A low growl sounded. Kate was pretty sure it hadn’t come from Matt, and she was almost certain it hadn’t come from her. She nudged the pillow that Stella had to be occupying and got an angry grunt in response.
Matt moved on to kiss Kate’s throat. She arched her neck and asked for more while she tried to work his shirt free of his jeans. She wanted to touch skin.
Matt knelt above her and pulled off his shirt. Kate wished she had the patience to focus on his body’s details but she was too far gone. She pulled him back down.
“We’ve got all night,” he said.
“Not good enough.”
“Trust me, it’s gonna be good,” he said in a low voice that made Kate’s body hum in excitement.
Kate fumbled with his belt, thinking the damn thing was like some sort of Mensa brain challenge.
Stella let loose a series of high-pitched yips. Someone in the next room added a couple of firm raps against the wall.
Kate gave up on the belt. Her dog was going to ruin everything. “Stella, no!”
The poodle brought it down to a whine.
“Ignore Stella,” Matt said, his lips skimming along Kate’s neck, her ear. “Focus on me. Would it help if I howled?”
Stella went back to barking. The neighbor slammed on the wall, and the poodle amped it up to the point that Kate’s ears rang.
Matt lifted his head and gave Stella a glare. “Stop!”
The poodle curled her lip, but obeyed.
“Now where were we?” Matt asked as he opened the top four buttons on Kate’s chambray Depot shirt, his last word ending on a sharp breath of pleasure as he settled his mouth between her breasts. Kate murmured encouragement and Matt cruised on, making quick work of the rest of Kate’s buttons.
“Gotta admire a man who’s talented with his hands,?s h9;sD; she managed to say.
When Kate’s shirt went flying, Stella let loose a snarl that sounded like it came from a Rottweiler.
Matt paused in his body exploration. “That wasn’t a good sound.”
Kate’s poodle stared at them from one pillow over. The dog’s eyes glowed in the dim light. And it wasn’t an
“Settle down,” she told Stella, but the poodle was focused on Matt.
“I’m sensing a turf war,” Matt said.
Kate kissed him and popped the top button on his jeans. “No way.”
“No doubt about it. Your dog doesn’t want me touching you,” Matt said.
“She doesn’t get a vote. Give me a second.”
Kate unwrapped herself from Matt, corralled Stella, and tucked her into her travel crate, which sat beside the brocade love seat.
“Be good,” she said to Stella.
Matt yanked a burgundy-colored throw from the love seat and dropped it over the crate.
The guy in the next room pounded the wall as though he planned to hammer his way through.
“Sorry,” Kate called. “We’re trying to get her to stop.”
But Stella kept on in howl mode.
“I’m calling the front desk,” the guy shouted through the wall.
Kate had a vision of security at the door. With the police. And the ASPCA. And just like her last legal run-in, she’d be only half-dressed.
Matt rolled to his feet. “This isn’t going to work.”
“I’m sorry. She’s really a great dog.”
“No problem. I understand where she’s coming from. I feel exactly the same way about you as she does.” He gave Kate a quick kiss over Stella’s warning growl. “Lesson learned. Beware the overly protective poodle.”
SATURDAY MORNING, Matt did his best to put Friday night behind him. He’d never seen a dog smirk, but damned if the poodle hadn’t been doing just that as he’d left Kate’s room. During a mind-clearing, wake-up run, he’d decided on9;d› a plan to win Stella over and clear the way for him to Kate’s heart. Plus, he was far better off than Harley and Junior, who’d shown up for breakfast visibly and brutally hungover. Junior had turned gray at the sight of Kate’s wheatgrass-and-mango smoothie, and had left the hotel dining room without ordering.
While Matt could stomach the idea of a wheatgrass smoothie, he couldn’t deal with Kate’s total silence now that they were on the road and headed for the beer fest. Stella was stowed in her crate, on the backseat, but probably still shooting him death rays.
“You’re mighty quiet,” Matt said.
“What would you like to talk about?”
“Last night.”
“I didn’t think guys talked about stuff like that.”
“It’s true. It’s rule number five in the Code of Manliness handbook. I’m making a one-time exception.”
Kate sighed. “Okay, so here goes. I’m kind of glad for the poodle alarm last night. I made myself a promise not to get involved with anyone until I figured out my life. For the first time, I feel like I might actually be making progress with that.”
He had to give Kate credit. Not only did she have an impressive amount of willpower, she was also tenacious, passionate, and forthright. It was all he could do not to pull the car over and kiss her. But patience and planning had helped him succeed in business, and it would help him succeed with Kate. First things first. Win over the dog.
“I understand completely.”
“You do?”
“Sure. I was lucky to be able to find my calling in a hobby I loved, but it was hard work figuring out how to build and run a business. It took all the energy I had. Right now, your business is your life. There’s no reason to rush things between us.”
Kate’s body relaxed, and when she smiled up at him, Matt once again had to fight not to pull over to the side of the road. Sooner or later, Kate would come around, but how he’d help her get there was a more complicated proposition than charming the poodle. All he needed for Stella was a lamb chop in each pocket. Kate would take finesse.
They pulled into the parking lot at Farmers’ Market a few minutes later and noticed a police cruiser was parked in front of the main entry door.
“What do you suppose that’s about?” Kate asked, looking at the cruiser.
“I suppose it’s just life in the big city.”
They entered the building and made their way back toward the Depot Brewing booth, stopping in the middle of the aisle, grimly gaping at the Depot Brewing Company banner hanging in tatters.
Harley, Junior, and Torvald Mortensen stood in front of Matt’s booth with two police officers. A scarecrow manned therow Compa booth, dressed in a Depot Brewery T-shirt and hat. A huge jagged hunting knife was stuck in its belly and a corkscrew protruded from its right eye.
“The leftover beer from last night is gone,” Junior said. “We set up the tables again, though. They were all wrecked.”
Matt clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Thanks, pal. I appreciate the help.”
Matt, Harley, Junior, and Torvald answered the officers’ questions while Kate sat on the floor, sorting through upended boxes. Matt was handing one of the officers his card when Kate joined them.
She held out a vintage lighter decorated with a black-and-white enamel eagle. “Sorry to interrupt, but I found this with the merchandise. I thought maybe it was Harley’s?”
Harley barely glanced at it. “Nope.”
“Are you sure?” Kate asked. “It looks like one from your collection.”
