A New Leash On Love

She’d never put much stock in checklists, since she could rattle off a list of adjectives, like kind, and nonnegotiables, like doesn’t rip apart his exes or his mother on the date, but everything came down to chemistry. How you felt with someone. How someone made you feel. If your head and heart were engaged. She’d never experienced chemistry the way she had with Matt Fielding. But her motto ever since she’d started volunteering for Furever Paws was: Everything is possible. The most timid dog, the hissiest cat, could become someone’s dearest treasure. Everything is possible. Including Claire finding love again. At thirty-five.

She peeled off her waterproof gloves and tossed them in the used-gloves bin, then headed toward the door to start filling bowls with kibble and sneaking in medicines where needed.

“Oh, Claire,” Birdie said. “Some advice. In the first five minutes, ask your date if he likes dogs. If he says no, you’ll know he’s not for you.”

Bunny tilted her head. “Now, Birdie. Not everyone loves animals like we do.”

Apparently, the entire Whitaker family loved animals to the point that all their nicknames were inspired by animals. Birdie’s real name was Bernadette. Bunny’s was Gwendolyn. There was a Moose—Doug—who’d sadly died long ago. And a Gator, aka Greg, who advised the sisters on financial matters.

“The man of Claire’s dreams will love dogs,” Birdie said. “That’s nonnegotiable. If her blind date says dogs slobber and bark and are a pain in the neck, she can tune him out the rest of the night.”

Claire smiled. As usual, Birdie Whitaker was right.

Chapter Two (#u26648ece-d95a-541d-815a-7087705a8363)

Matt held his niece’s hand as they entered the Main Street Grille later that night, the smell of burgers and fish and chips reminding him how hungry he was. His sister, Laura, and her husband, Kurt, had insisted on taking him out to dinner to celebrate his homecoming.

“His homestaying!” Ellie had said, squeezing him into one of her famous hugs.

He adored the eight-year-old. He barely knew her—had rarely seen her since she’d been born because of his tours—but the moment he’d arrived yesterday, she’d latched on to him like he was the fun, exciting uncle she’d missed out on, and of course, he couldn’t let her down. He’d played soccer with her. He’d read her two bedtime stories last night, then she’d read him one, and he’d almost fallen asleep right there in her pink-and-purple room. This morning, he’d played Hiker Barbie with her in the backyard, his Barbie falling into a ravine, and her Barbie saving her with her search-and-rescue skills and the help of Barbie’s golden retriever, Tanner. She’d spent a good hour talking to Matt about dogs, after she’d instructed Tanner to grab his Barbie’s jeans cuff and pull her up to safety. The girl was dog-crazy. And he was Ellie-crazy. He was determined to help her find just the right pooch to love.

With Claire Asher’s help. Amazing.

“We love this restaurant,” Laura said as the hostess led them through the dimly lit space to a table for four near a window. “During the day, it’s more of a diner, but at night it transforms into a pub. Apparently, it’s quite the nostalgic place to get engaged.”

Matt glanced around the restaurant. There were quite a few obvious dates.

And, oh hell, was that Claire?

On an obvious date.

He turned away so that his staring wouldn’t draw her attention. Then, as he sat down, he took another glance. Dammit. Yes, it was. Four tables away, diagonally. She was sitting with her own sister, Della, and two men were across from them. The one across from Claire looked slick. He had gelled hair and trendy eyeglasses and was holding court, making Claire laugh.

Crud. He used to make Claire Asher laugh.

At least she’s happy, he told himself.

“What are you having, Uncle Matt?” Ellie asked. “I’m getting the mac and cheese. No, the cowabunga burger. No, the mac and cheese. Or should I have the spaghetti and meatballs?”

He focused his attention on his niece. The poor thing had an incredibly crooked strawberry-blond braid with weird tufts sticking out. Ellie had asked him to do the honors for tonight’s “special dinner,” and Laura had given the tutorial as he went. When he was done, his sister had had to leave the room to keep herself from bursting into laughter. But Ellie, checking out his handiwork with a hand mirror and her back to the hall mirror, declared her braid just perfect!

“Well, I know your favorite is mac and cheese,” he said, “and since this is a special night, I think you should get your favorite.” Matt forced himself to look at the menu and not Claire.

But she looked so damned pretty. The candle on the table just slightly illuminated her. She’d dolled up a bit since her shift at the shelter. Her pink-red lips were glossy, and her light blond hair was sleek to her shoulders. She wore an off-white V-neck sweater, and a delicate gold chain around her neck.

“That’s right,” his sister said, smiling at Ellie. “This is a special night—celebrating Uncle Matt’s long-awaited homecoming.”

“Homestaying!” Ellie said with a grin.

That got his attention. Because was this something to celebrate? Thirty-six and living in his sister’s guest room? No clue where he was headed, what he’d do. Visiting his family while he figured things out made sense, he reminded himself. He had ideas, of course. And skills. But he felt wrong in his skin, suddenly adrift in this different life.

You’re an American hero and don’t you forget it,his sister had said when he’d mentioned that earlier. You’ll adapt and build a new life—hopefully here in town.

With Claire Asher to run into everywhere he went? No, sir. He was two for two on his first full day in Spring Forest. He couldn’t do that to himself on a daily basis. But until he decided where to go and what to do, Spring Forest, it was.

He took one more look at Claire out the side of his menu. Oh please. Her date was offering her a bite of something. As Claire smiled and leaned forward to accept the fork—with her hand, thank God, and not with those luscious lips—Matt felt his gut tighten and his appetite disappear.

He’d help Ellie find her dog. Which meant seeing Claire one more time tomorrow. And then maybe he’d leave town. There was no way he could figure out what the hell he was going to do with his life if he was going to constantly run into her—and be unable to stop thinking about her.

Dammit.

Now she was laughing at something Slick had said. Great. Tonight was a real celebration.

Claire’s date liked dogs. Loved them, in fact. He—Andrew, thirty-five, divorced, two children of whom he shared joint custody—even had a dog, a yellow Lab named Sully.

And Andrew was very attractive. Her sister hadn’t been kidding about him looking like Matt, to a degree. They had the same coloring, the dark hair—though Matt’s was more military-short—the blue eyes, the strong nose and square jawline, both men managing to look both refined and rugged at the same time. Andrew was in a suit and tie, but Claire had seen Matt Fielding in a suit only once—on prom night, the black tuxedo he’d paired with a skinny white silk tie and black Converse high-tops. That night, she’d thought there was nothing sexier on the planet than her boyfriend.

Her date for tonight was charming and kind and attentive, asking all kinds of questions about her job as a teacher. He showed her photos of his kids and beamed with pride about them, which Claire found sweet and touching. Over the past few years, when she’d started worrying that she wouldn’t find Mr. Right-Part-Two, she’d thought about marrying a man with kids and becoming a great stepmother. And there was adoption, of course. Her single friend Sally had adopted a little girl from foster care, and though there were challenges, she’d never seen her friend so happy, so fulfilled.

Another of Claire’s mottoes over the past few years had been: If you want to find your life partner, if you want to have a child, however that child may come into your life, you have to keep your mind and heart open.

And now here was seemingly perfect Andrew. Even clear-eyed, hard-nosed Birdie Whitaker would be impressed by him and the prospects of a second date. She could just hear romantic Bunny running down how things would go: And then a third date at that revolving restaurant on the zillionth floor in the fancy hotel in Raleigh. Then amazing sex in your suite for the night. Then exclusivity. Then a proposal on your six-month-iversary. You’ll be married to a wonderful man and have stepchildren to dote on and love by summer—you could be a June bride if you’re only engaged four months! Oh God, sometimes Claire thought it would be wonderful to be Bunny.

Problem was, though, that despite how wonderful Andrew seemed, Claire felt zero chemistry. Zero pull. The thought of getting to know him better didn’t really interest her. The idea of kissing him left her cold.

No fair! And she knew exactly why this man who loved dogs, who’d even showed her a slew of photos of handsome Sully on his phone, wasn’t having any effect on any part of her at all.

Because for the past few hours, as she’d been getting ready for the date, Matt had been on her mind. How could he not be? She hadn’t seen him in almost twenty years and then, whammo, there he was today, at her sanctuary, the place where she always felt at home, at peace. Matt Fielding suddenly kneeling in front of a dog’s kennel at Furever Paws. Unbelievable.

She’d started out the evening thinking she would not let being all verklempt at seeing her first love derail this date. And so she’d put a little more effort than she otherwise might have into her hair and makeup and outfit, as if trying to force herself to give the date a real shot instead of knowing her heart just wouldn’t be in it.

And now, as Andrew signaled their waiter for their check, which he insisted on paying for the table, all she wanted was to be back home, sipping this excellent chardonnay in a hot bath to soothe her muscles after the long day at the shelter. And to deal with being flooded by memories of Matt. The first time they’d met. Kissed. When he’d opened up about his older brother, who hadn’t come home from Afghanistan. His parents’ pride and worry that Matt had enlisted in his brother’s honor. That they may lose another son. Matt had promised his mother he’d email every night to say good-night, to let her know he was okay. And he had for years; his sister, Laura, had shared that with her when they’d run into each other a few years back.

Matt had ended up outliving his parents, and when Laura had let Claire know when they’d run into each other another time, she’d said that Matt got through it only because he wouldn’t have to worry about shattering their hearts a second time, after all.

All these memories had come rushing back while she’d been applying mascara and stepping into a gentle spray of Chanel Nº 19. Her date with Andrew Haverman, attorney-at-law, never stood a chance.

Claire shook her head at herself.

“So, I hope we can go for a drink,” Andrew said as he signed the credit card slip. He slid a hopeful, very-interested smile at Claire.

Claire’s sister stood up, prompting her husband to do the same. “We have to get up pretty early tomorrow. You two go, though,” she added with her own hopeful smile, glancing from Claire to Andrew and back to Claire.

Don’t you dare mess this up! Claire could hear Della shouting telepathically to her. Get Matt Fielding out of your head this instant! I know you! GET. HIM. OUT! Andrew has a dog named Sully!

Despite the dog, despite everything, she couldn’t get Matt out of her head. As her date was pocketing his shiny gold credit card and receipt, she glanced around the restaurant, trying to think of an excuse. She didn’t want to go for a drink, extend the date. She didn’t want to see this man again, despite, despite, despite. Avoiding her sister’s narrowed stare, Claire kept looking around the restaurant, sending a smile to a former student at a table with her parents, another smile to a couple who’d adopted two kittens from Furever Paws a few weeks ago—and then her smile froze.

Claire felt her eyes widen as her gaze was caught on a very crooked strawberry-blond braid halfway down a little girl’s back. She’d seen a similarly hued braid—though a very tidy one—on Matt’s niece when she’d run into his sister and the girl a couple of months ago in the supermarket.