"C'mon, Rigby."
Garrett had discovered that Rigby loved television and as soon as they'd entered the house, the dog went to the set and barked. Garrett laughed and flipped on the switch. "Let's see if we can find you K-9 Cop or maybe a romantic movie starring a poodle?"
Rigby wagged his tail, his big red tongue lolling out. Garrett found a show with a dog in it and left Rigby happily sitting on the couch. He entered his workshop and sat down. He'd been avoiding any thoughts about what had happened at the studio, but now he had to face facts.
He'd goaded Natalie Hanover into a contest in which neither of them wanted to participate.
Why had he done that? Maybe her little perky nose and sparkling green eyes had something to do with it. It wasn't like him to want to get involved in other people's lives. He'd become a veterinarian because he'd learned long ago that animals were much better companions than people.
He'd committed himself to an uncertain project. Perhaps he should back out now, while he still had time. Garrett shook his head. He didn't know how he'd ended up on the show. One minute, he was chomping down on a hamburger at the Mirror Falls Grill, and the next Susan McMillan was purring in his ear about her show. "It's a way to get exposure for your shelter—let the public know about your cause." So, in the name of Free Publicity and five hundred bucks, he'd gone on television and made a damned fool of himself.
Yet he'd made a promise—a deal. He always kept his word. Besides, the $25,000 would help with the cost of building and supplying the shelter. All he had to do was discipline Mrs. Hanover's children. She had how many? Three?
He grimaced. He didn't have any experience with children, but he knew they weren't any different from dogs. He'd seen mothers in grocery stores arguing with their red-faced children over buying toys and candy. How different was that from a puppy growling over a toy taken?
He felt his confidence return. This would be a piece of cake. He had years of experience working with animals that had behavior problems. He knew lot about misbehavior. He also knew anything was better than his father's discipline techniques. Hitting a kid for screwing up was wrong. Hitting a kid for any reason was wrong. Out of habit, Garrett rubbed his shoulder. His father had dislocated it when he threw Garrett against the wall in one of many drunken rages. He pushed the memories away. Those days were long gone. He wasn't a scared kid anymore. And his father had died. There wasn't anyone who could hurt him now.
Garrett grabbed his sketch pad and a few pencils. He would go to the barn and sketch the sunset. Working with a picture always made him feel centered.
He left Rigby contentedly watching a re-run of Lassie and walked to the sagging barn.
He sat in the damp grass and watched dusk settle across the land. In the orange glow of ending day, he started to sketch. But it wasn't the sun's crimson fingers stroking the ground that flowed from his pencil, but the profile of a woman with a freckled nose and rosy lips. He was adding a light, feathery eyebrow when he realized he was sketching Natalie Hanover.
***|***|***|***|***
GARRETT HART
Garrett stood on Natalie's porch with Susan and two men who held filming equipment. Susan had already punched the doorbell several times and now pounded on the door.
No one answered.
"Natalie wouldn't back out," she said brightly. Then she muttered, "Or I'll kill her."
He watched as Susan tried the doorknob. The door swung inward with a creaking protest. She smiled triumphantly and gestured for Garrett to enter. He knew if he crossed the threshold there was no going back, yet he didn't hesitate to step into the foyer.
Susan and the crew crowded in behind him. A series of loud thumps and shrieks from above made everyone glance at the ceiling. Susan gave Garrett a gentle push towards the living room.
He surveyed the spacious area. A light tan couch and matching recliners made the space warm and welcoming. Shelves overflowing with all kinds of books lined the walls around the bricked fireplace. Something moved on the top left shelf, but when he looked again, he only saw a brown turtle about the size of an apple.
Probably a statue.
From the living room, Garrett saw the entrance to a large kitchen. He frowned when he saw toys and clothes scattered everywhere. He put neatness on his mental list of things to teach the children. More thuds and shouting made him turn toward the carpeted staircase on his left.
His mouth dropped open.
Five wildly screeching cats bolted toward him followed by the largest, blackest, muddiest dog he'd ever laid eyes on. Behind the dog ran Natalie and three disheveled, yelling kids. The cats scattered pell-mell when they reached the bottom and the dog—Garrett threw his arms up in a protective gesture as the animal launched from the stairs like a hurtling black rocket—straight into his chest.
All the air left his lungs in a big whoosh. Garrett landed flat on his backside. The dog licked Garrett's nose with a big, slobbery tongue, giving him a pungent whiff of doggie breath reminiscent of dirty socks and spoiled lima beans. The animal then stood on Garrett, and shook his wet fur furiously.
Garrett tried to inhale, but the heavy monster on top of him literally crushed any hopes of breathing. He closed his eyes against the mud splattering him. Wet globs plopped on his cheeks and chin, and then the mutt raced off, barking loudly. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw five concerned faces hovering over him.
"Are you all right?" Mrs. Hanover asked. He couldn't answer because air hadn't yet returned to his body. Her green eyes sparkled as she grinned at him. He noticed a smudge of dirt on her cheek and wondered why it made her look so cute.
His gaze moved from Mrs. Hanover to a red-faced Susan. Then he noticed a teenaged-girl smiling widely at him with a mouthful of braces. Colored, snaky things hung in her dark hair, making her look like a grinning Medusa. Next to her, a young blonde-haired boy with green eyes just like his mother's frowned down at him. As he considered whether or not to get up, a little girl with eyes bluer than the sky knelt next to him.
"Hello, Mister Doctor Hart," she said. "My turtle's missing. Are you sure you're not a private detector?"