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The muggy atmosphere and dark clouds turned the day claustrophobic. Lia unzipped her light windbreaker to relieve the feeling of constriction but left on her shin guards and leg pads even after she settled Karma and her littermates in their own kennel. The client might want a demo after the temperament test.
She didn’t like the bizarre weather. Her phone alarms kept her updated on the storm’s progress and she still couldn’t believe the warnings. Most February weather brought ice storms that downed power lines and shattered creaky trees. At that thought, she eyeballed the nearby bois d’arc when the wind made the claw-limbs scrabble against the kennel’s tin roof. The nails-on-blackboard sound made her teeth ache. Luckily, her two Pit Bull boarders were used to the noise and remained silent. She’d inherited their owner Sunny Babcock from Abe’s clientele, but now the woman could afford to go somewhere else for luxury digs since landing a role on a reality TV show.
The noise was an invitation the litter accepted. One puppy started, then the whole group raised the doggy alarm with each thump, scrape, or blustery breath of wind. She sighed.
The building needed refurbishing she couldn’t afford without more paying clients. But unless she spiffed up the facilities, Corazon Kennels couldn’t attract the high-end boarders she needed. Chicken-and-egg syndrome.
It all came down to the puppies. If Derek Williams approved of the Rottie litter’s progress, his recommendation could put her on the map—and clients like Sunny would come in droves.
Derek’s parents ran in the same circles as Grammy and Grandfather, and they all came from old money. His folks bragged on him and indulged his hobby-du-jour while they groomed him to take over the family business.
Lia had hoped her own family connections would bring referrals to her new venture. Instead, Grammy apologized for Lia, and got a pinched look like she’d stepped in something with any mention of the kennel.
Whatever. She’d make a success of this, no matter what. She owed it to Abe to keep his legacy alive.
A black extended cab truck appeared in the distance, bumping far too fast down the narrow road. Lia held her breath, fearing the driver would slide off into the rushing water on either side. Rain over the past two weeks had overflowed ditches, and there was more in the forecast. At least so far her kennel roof had passed the leak test. Replacing the roof would cost more than the property was worth.
Lia stood with her hands on her hips as Derek arrived. She stood in the doorway of the main building that doubled as her office and apartment. His truck tossed mud against the office window when he skidded to a stop. He was late. But she couldn’t afford to piss him off, and besides, it wasn’t as if she had anything better to do.
When Derek had dropped off Dolly and her litter of two-week-old pups after Christmas, Lia hadn’t yet closed on what was then called Pesquiera Board & Train. She’d grown close to Abe during high school and college while working at his kennel, and bought the business after he got an offer to go home and manage the cattle dogs in Waimea, Hawaii. But before he could return to his beloved Islands, Abe died from a sudden heart attack.
The papers had been signed, but Abe’s death left a number of issues unresolved. Lia’s inherited clients had reservations for spring break vacation next month. But that income wouldn’t arrive for weeks, and the seasonal after-Christmas slump was a killer. Derek’s much needed fees would bridge the income gap.
Today, Derek wore jeans with fashionable rips in all the right places, custom running shoes, and a silk tee shirt that outlined his muscles and exposed a full sleeve tattoo of some mythical beast. His outfit cost more than her ramshackle truck. A second man, someone she didn’t know and hadn’t been expecting, climbed more slowly out the passenger side.
“You have everything set up?” Derek hooked a thumb at the older man. “I got a buyer interested, and some others long distance, so let’s get this started. I want out of here before the next wave of storms hit.”
She nodded, conjured a tentative smile and offered her hand to shake. Derek ignored the gesture, brushing by to reach the office. Her shoulders tightened, but she followed without a word. Lia held open the door and waited for Derek’s guest to precede her into the tiny room.
A large dog roused from his foam bed beside the desk. Lia stooped to stroke Thor’s neck. She showed him her palm with an emphatic gesture signaling him to stay and not move from his place.
“That’s not a Rottweiler, Derek.” The older man hesitated, his double chins quivering with concern. “It looks sick.”
Lia smiled. “Thor is a Bouvier. He’s not sick, he’s just old. He came with the kennel.” The old dog had belonged to Abe. How do you tell a dog his special human would never come home? Thor deserved a happy time during his golden years. “I’m Lia, by the way. And you are? . . .”
“Samuel Cooper. Call me Coop.” He nodded, tugged his sweater vest down over his ample girth, and wiped the soles of his alligator boots on the doormat before stepping into the room proper. He sniffed the air. His lip curled.
Lia hid a smile. Thor had always been gassy. It seemed to go with Bouviers.
“Mr. Cooper owns a slew of car dealerships in Dallas.” Derek looked at Lia. “He needs some furry protection.”
Derek planned to sell the puppies to him, untrained? Unprepared?
Derek caught her expression. “You said it’d take years to properly train up a police dog. And I don’t have the time. Besides, not all will be a fit for K9 work. What am I supposed to do with the rest?”
True enough. Temperament evaluations at eight weeks changed as puppies matured. Today’s test would be a better gauge of future potential. With Dolly’s sketchy personality, they’d be lucky if any of the nine pups made the grade.
Lia hadn’t considered what would happen to those that washed out. Derek owned the dogs and made the decisions, even though he hadn’t a clue about breeding. Or training. She’d need more than boarding income to make a go of the business. Offering Derek basic puppy training classes could be the opportunity she needed. That could help build her reputation.
Derek pulled the office door shut, glancing around the shabby room, and Lia could almost hear his thoughts. But never mind his opinion. Once Derek settled his account, Lia could pay the overdue insurance premium, with enough left over for office face lifting. She waved both men toward the interior door. “I’ve got everything set up for the temperament test through there, in the last run on your right.” She hurried to open the door. “Derek, I put Dolly up in the first run with the pups across from her in a separate space, so she wouldn’t be a distraction.” She hadn’t expected this second temperament test to be a sales pitch, too. Derek hadn’t attended the first test; she’d just sent him the video results and her report. Her shoulders bunched, unsettled by the notion. She’d grown attached to the pups, especially Karma.
“Coop, wait until you see the litter.” Derek grinned. “Nine weeks old and already game as hell. Exactly what you want for your, uhm,” his eyes cut to Lia and away, “your purposes.” He clapped the older man on the shoulder and continued to boast about the attributes of the puppies.
Hiding her disquiet, Lia preceded the two men. She wondered why Derek even bothered. There wasn’t a lot of money to be made breeding dogs, not that he needed the income. Couldn’t be that he liked dogs. This was the first time he’d visited Dolly and her litter since dropping them off. On top of that, Dolly was at best a marginal example of the heroic Rottweiler breed.
Descended from ancient Roman cattle dogs interbred with Swiss and German mastiffs, the versatile athletic breed excelled at everything from hunting bears and guarding cattle to pulling kiddie carts or sharing a beloved human’s pillow. Only the elite with the best temperament and physique were suited for the rigors of protection, military or police work. Poor Dolly didn’t come close. It had taken Lia weeks to earn the mother dog’s trust, and that told Lia volumes about Dolly’s short life. The bitch was just a year old, far too young for a litter. Lia didn’t want to know how Derek got so many pups out of her first litter. If Dolly was her dog...
But then, Derek hadn’t asked for her opinion. And Dolly didn’t belong to her. Neither did the puppies. Based on the potential she’d seen in several of the pups, their sire must have been magnificent, though. Her fists clenched. If she handled this puppy temperament test the right way, she could do some good. Make things turn out better for the dogs. Still, she had a bad feeling.
Lia stared down the long line of immaculate but empty kennels. The office might look shabby, but she kept the boarding area pristine. Dogs away from the comfort of home deserved to feel safe, and Lia couldn’t wait to turn Corazon Boarding Kennels into a state of the art facility. Meanwhile, just keeping them clean was a point of pride with her.
She paused to greet Dolly in the first kennel on the left. The big black dog snuffled her palm through the chain link gate, rubbing her rust color muzzle against the barrier as she slicked her ears back and wriggled a hello. But when the men followed too close, Dolly’s hackles rose and she backed away with stiff legs. A bass rumble started deep in the dog’s wide, muscular chest.
“There she is! That’s Dolly-Danger, the baddest Rottweiler in North Texas.” Derek beamed, his expression vulpine. “I guarantee, her pups will be just as ferocious, Coop.” He pulled Lia away from the door. “You better not have babied her and let her get all soft. I brought her training collar if she needs a refresher.” He banged the wire with his fist. “Go on, Dolly, get fired up. Show us what you’ve got!”
Dolly bounced forward, mixing snarls with barks, trying to get at Derek through the barrier.
Coop jumped backwards with a frightened cry, and then punched Derek on the shoulder with a shit-eating grin of satisfaction. “If the pups are halfway that badass, you’ve got a deal.”
Lia’s stomach clenched and her cheeks heated. Training collar refresher? That explained Dolly’s sketchy personality. Derek meant a shock collar.
