The insistence in Prissy’s voice brought her back to the moment. “Heavens, no. Why are you whispering?”
“Because he’s in the next room. Come on up here.”
“Why would I do that, Prissy?”
“Because when I told you he was here you stopped breathing, I mean you stopped breathing. I could hear it. I remember feeling that way when I was your age. I ended up married to him.”
Sandi gave a little grunt of impatience. “I don’t know why you think that. Trust me, I’m still breathing. I don’t like him, Prissy. Have you forgotten I have a boyfriend? I’m not coming up there. Gotta run—”
“If you’re not gonna come up here, I’m gonna send him down—”
“Prissy, no. That isn’t necessary.”
“Yes, it is. I’m sending him and Randy down to your shop for some treats.”
“Who’s Randy?”
“He named the puppy Randy. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Randy, the cow dog? Wow. That has a real poetic ring to it.”
Sandi heaved a sigh, accepting the inevitable. “Well I’m here and I’m open and I want to sell my stuff. He can come shopping any time just like any of my customers. But, I warn you, Prissy. He’d better not waste my time. He’d better buy something.”
The minute she hung up, Sandi dashed to her tiny bathroom, ran a brush through her hair, checked her eye makeup and touched up her lipstick. The last time Nick had seen her, she had been a bawling, makeup-smeared mess. She intended for him to see her as the bank’s customers used to see her—an attractive, well-put-together professional woman who had control of her circumstances.
She was bothered that a cowboy with whom she had nothing in common caused such a reaction within her. Not because there was a possibility of anything developing between them, but because a woman with a boyfriend shouldn’t have those thoughts about another man.
Even if her ex-husbands hadn’t been fully vested, in their relationships, she had been. If you truly cared about someone, another person couldn’t make you feel things. Sexual things you should share only with your steady beau. Was it just John Wilson’s trial that had cooled her attraction to Richard? Or was it a total lack of chemistry between them. God, she wished she had some answers.
Next, she grabbed a leash from the hook beside the phone. “Come on, Waff. You need to go outside and potty.”
Once outside, Sandi led Waffle to a grassy area in the vacant lot behind the strip center where he could relieve himself.
A deep male voice came from inside her store. “Hellooo? Anybody here?”
Damn that Prissy. “Hold on,” she shouted back. “I’ll be right there.”
Sandi walked briskly through the back doorway, unhooked Waffle’s leash and closed him in the back room. Then she entered her showroom. She recognized the customer immediately. It was him, all right. Damn it all to hell, it was him. Hard body, tight jeans, cowboy hat and boots. And cradled in his arms was the golden puppy and it was sound asleep.
She mustered her composure and tried to speak as if her heart weren’t pounding. “Hi. Can I help you? I was out back with my dog. I see you have your baby, uh, I mean puppy.”
She had momentarily forgotten the sweet loveable puppy was only a dog to him.
“Yep,” he said, looking down at the sleeping puppy. “He’s taking a nap. The lady at that grooming shop told me you might have some stuff I’ll need. You weren’t feeling well the last time I saw you. You okay now?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I was just upset that day. I get attached to all of the animals I care for.”
He looked around. “So this is your store, huh?”
“Indeed it is.” She gestured around the showroom. “What would you like?”
“Maybe we could try some of that homemade dog food you were bragging about.”
“Absolutely.” She whisked a menu and price list from a holder on the wall. “LaBarkery pet food has no chemical additives. It’s good for puppies as well as adult dogs. I also sell treats. Very healthy, easily digested—”
He pointed at her refrigerated display cases and the layer cakes that looked to be frosted with chocolate. “This looks like human food. Is that cake really for an animal?”
“Sure is. But you could eat it, too, if you were so inclined. We can discuss what it’s made of if you’re interested.”
“All homemade, huh?”
“Every day. By me and my two employees.” Sandi couldn’t tell if he was impressed or making fun. “The decorations are more for the owners than the pets. Not to eat themselves. I mean, they could, but they like them for their dogs and cats. Some of my customers have a special bond with their pets and they get a kick out of spoiling them.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, looking around the store again. “And I guess all these clothes and hats and such are the owners’ idea too.”
He wasn’t the first customer to come into her store and scoff at the costumes on the shelves, some adorned with ruffles and bling. In this part of the country, some men in particular saw dogs as ranch hands or guard dogs and cats as barn cats. Others enjoyed dressing their pets in costumes. She usually took the mocking in stride, but this guy was yanking her chain.
“Tell you what,” she said schooling her voice to be steady and laying the menu aside. “Let’s look at some plain leashes for this little guy. You don’t want to lose him. He’ll be in the running away stage until you get him trained.”
“I already got a leash. How about a muzzle? I forgot to get one when I was in PetSmart the other day.”
Muzzle! Had he said muzzle? Surely she had heard wrong. Sandi steadied herself. “Why would you need a muzzle? He’s only a puppy.”
“And he’ll be a dead puppy if he gets around horses or cows and starts barking and raising hell. I’ve got to train him not to bark around the pens that have livestock in them.
