“Would you like me to do that for you? No charge of course. I feel horrible about what happened.”
Mrs. Bernard got quiet. Why would this woman trust Lucie with her dogs again? Mr. Darcy hadn’t. Why should anyone trust her with their dogs? She flopped on the bed and absorbed the screeching sound of her backup job careening to a halt.
“Oh, well—” Yep, here it comes, the kick to the curb. “—if you wouldn’t mind, that would actually help me out. We’re not blaming you for what happened. We know you love the girls.”
Maybe the backup job had a chance. “Absolutely.”
How the hell she’d get the other dogs walked and take the girls to the vet, Lucie had no idea. “Do you know what time?”
“No. The vet doesn’t open until eight. I’ll let you know.”
Lucie disconnected and smacked the phone against her lips. Suddenly she needed an assistant dog walker. Unfortunately for her—or him, depending on how they looked at it—the only other person who knew the route, because he’d done it with her yesterday, was Joey. Asking him would require that she not only swallow her pride, but also digest it. Ugh.
Coco Barknell .
The little voice, Frankie’s voice, tickled her thoughts and warmed her. This dog walking thing might have been a small side job, but it provided income. Plus, she had to protect her reputation. Mrs. Bernard could have easily blamed Lucie for the loss of her dogs, yet she chose to trust her.
A good businesswoman would cherish that trust. Even if it meant dealing with Joey.
An hour later, she heard the toilet flush through two closed doors and, assuming it was Joey, cornered him. At least he’d thrown a pair of shorts on his otherwise naked body. Well, she assumed he was naked beneath the shorts. All he ever talked about was how he slept naked because he turned into an inferno in pajamas. As if she wanted to know that. Ew.
“Are you out of your flippin’ mind?” Joey asked from the bathroom doorway.
“You owe me.”
“For what?”
“For every rotten thing you ever did to me. And, if you don’t help, I’ll tell Dad when I visit him this weekend.”
Talk about hitting a man where he lives, but their father finding out Joey wasn’t doing right by his family would give her brother loose bowel movements. Lucie shook her head. “And you know Dad. He’ll hold his two fingers together and say ‘this is you, this is your brother. These fingers better never come apart.’”
Total blackmail. It should have sickened her. Should have made her feel like pond scum.
Eh, she didn’t mind so much. For once, she held the power.
Joey put her in a headlock and gave her a noogie that would scar her scalp. “You are a sneaky little witch.”
“Ow. That hurts. Knock it off.”
He pushed her away. “I’m not riding that butt-ugly scooter. You’ll have to pay my parking.”
Parking wouldn’t be cheap, but she supposed that was fair. She held out her hand to seal the deal. “Agreed.”
Joey clasped her hand, gave it a hard pump. “Deal.”
She wanted to think the angels were singing because she and Joey had actually agreed on something—without screaming—but the only feeling was a warm blood rush. Maybe her brother was human.
“By the way,” Lucie said. “Did you find a spreadsheet of mine? I had handwritten notes on it.”
Joey twisted his mouth. “Why would I care about some spreadsheet?”
“I can’t find it. And Mom hasn’t seen it.”
“Sorry, kid.” He went back to his room and shut the door.
“You need to walk Otis at ten o’clock.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m serious.”
No answer. Clearly, he understood. She smacked her hands together. Now all she had to do was figure out what happened to that damned spreadsheet.
* * *
Lucie arrived at the Bernards’ just after nine o’clock and found Mrs. B. talking with Detective O’Brien. Him again. Great. The detective wore a black suit with a crisp white shirt and Mrs. B. looked equally polished in a
Mrs. Bernard got quiet. Why would this woman trust Lucie with her dogs again? Mr. Darcy hadn’t. Why should anyone trust her with their dogs? She flopped on the bed and absorbed the screeching sound of her backup job careening to a halt.
“Oh, well—” Yep, here it comes, the kick to the curb. “—if you wouldn’t mind, that would actually help me out. We’re not blaming you for what happened. We know you love the girls.”
Maybe the backup job had a chance. “Absolutely.”
How the hell she’d get the other dogs walked and take the girls to the vet, Lucie had no idea. “Do you know what time?”
“No. The vet doesn’t open until eight. I’ll let you know.”
Lucie disconnected and smacked the phone against her lips. Suddenly she needed an assistant dog walker. Unfortunately for her—or him, depending on how they looked at it—the only other person who knew the route, because he’d done it with her yesterday, was Joey. Asking him would require that she not only swallow her pride, but also digest it. Ugh.
Coco Barknell .
The little voice, Frankie’s voice, tickled her thoughts and warmed her. This dog walking thing might have been a small side job, but it provided income. Plus, she had to protect her reputation. Mrs. Bernard could have easily blamed Lucie for the loss of her dogs, yet she chose to trust her.
A good businesswoman would cherish that trust. Even if it meant dealing with Joey.
An hour later, she heard the toilet flush through two closed doors and, assuming it was Joey, cornered him. At least he’d thrown a pair of shorts on his otherwise naked body. Well, she assumed he was naked beneath the shorts. All he ever talked about was how he slept naked because he turned into an inferno in pajamas. As if she wanted to know that. Ew.
“Are you out of your flippin’ mind?” Joey asked from the bathroom doorway.
“You owe me.”
“For what?”
“For every rotten thing you ever did to me. And, if you don’t help, I’ll tell Dad when I visit him this weekend.”
Talk about hitting a man where he lives, but their father finding out Joey wasn’t doing right by his family would give her brother loose bowel movements. Lucie shook her head. “And you know Dad. He’ll hold his two fingers together and say ‘this is you, this is your brother. These fingers better never come apart.’”
Total blackmail. It should have sickened her. Should have made her feel like pond scum.
Eh, she didn’t mind so much. For once, she held the power.
Joey put her in a headlock and gave her a noogie that would scar her scalp. “You are a sneaky little witch.”
“Ow. That hurts. Knock it off.”
He pushed her away. “I’m not riding that butt-ugly scooter. You’ll have to pay my parking.”
Parking wouldn’t be cheap, but she supposed that was fair. She held out her hand to seal the deal. “Agreed.”
Joey clasped her hand, gave it a hard pump. “Deal.”
She wanted to think the angels were singing because she and Joey had actually agreed on something—without screaming—but the only feeling was a warm blood rush. Maybe her brother was human.
“By the way,” Lucie said. “Did you find a spreadsheet of mine? I had handwritten notes on it.”
Joey twisted his mouth. “Why would I care about some spreadsheet?”
“I can’t find it. And Mom hasn’t seen it.”
“Sorry, kid.” He went back to his room and shut the door.
“You need to walk Otis at ten o’clock.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m serious.”
No answer. Clearly, he understood. She smacked her hands together. Now all she had to do was figure out what happened to that damned spreadsheet.
* * *
Lucie arrived at the Bernards’ just after nine o’clock and found Mrs. B. talking with Detective O’Brien. Him again. Great. The detective wore a black suit with a crisp white shirt and Mrs. B. looked equally polished in a
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