Her Last Best Fling. Candace Havens

Didn’t matter that she’d just turned eighty-five and Mr. G had to be nearing a hundred.

      “She has that huge house, darn near a mansion,” Lady Smith chimed in. Her name was Lady, and for some reason everyone in town called her Lady Smith. Out of respect, and the fact that she was a friend of his mother’s, Blake had once called her Mrs. Smith when he was about ten. She’d scolded him and told him she was a Lady, and he’d do well to remember that in the future.

      The town was full of oddballs, and he’d been one of them. As a kid, he’d run around dressed like Davy Crockett for two years and no one had said a word. Apart from his brother, who was more a Spider-Man fan.

      “She’s got more money than she knows what to do with. Imagine, putting the paper on the inter—whatever those kids use nowadays,” Lady had complained. “People here like to hold a newspaper in their hands. And she doesn’t seem to understand that there are some stories that just aren’t fit to tell. I’ve written countless letters to the editor, but she never prints or listens to them.” Lady waved her hand in the air dismissively.

      “Darn Yankee.”

      How dare she tell the truth about Tranquil Waters. The nerve of the woman. Blake found himself chuckling as he rinsed his cup in the sink.

      His mother probably didn’t need his help at the feed store. But he didn’t want to sit around stewing. It almost always sent him in the wrong direction.

      He wondered where Macy—he’d finally learned her name—might be. Likely still in bed, if she were smart. Any sane person would be at this hour of the morning. Pulling the truck out of the drive, he saw something run past.

      Blake blinked a few times and followed the blur.

      “It can’t be.”

      The monster dog he’d recently stuffed into a car sat on the porch of a white-framed house with a for-sale sign in the yard. The spot was about five blocks from his mom’s house.

      The way Harley stared at the door, as if willing it to open, broke his heart. Blake had seen a lot of awful things through the years, but kids and animals in distress were his weaknesses. He’d do anything to protect them.

      Macy was right. Unlike a human, the dog couldn’t understand her master was gone.

      Exiting the truck slowly, he stepped up the stone path. She glanced back at him, with the saddest puppy eyes. One of the eyes was blue, the other green.

      He hadn’t seen her eyes when he’d been dealing with the hindquarters.

      “Hey, pretty girl, what’s up?”

      He held out his hand, but she turned away from him. Lifting a large paw, she hit the doorknob.

      Damn dog. His heart lurched. Not sure what he should do, he sat down on the top step next to her. He could drag her to the truck, but he didn’t have the nerve. If he gained her trust, maybe she’d go willingly. He had a feeling being at the house was about more than just returning to where she felt safe.

      “I’ll sit here with you until you decide what you want to do next,” he said softly. He didn’t have anything better to do.

      The dog pawed at the door again and growled.

      Blake leaned back against the railing. He could have sworn the dog said, “Let me in.”

      I am losing it. Now dogs are talking to me.

      “Did you just say, let me in?”

      The dog pawed his shoulder.

      Yep, he was crazy.

      “Oh, girl, sorry, I don’t have a key. I’d let you in if I could, but I don’t have one. And I have a code I live by. Breaking and entering isn’t an option.”

      She barked and then leaped off the porch.

      As quick as his sore leg allowed him, he got up and followed her around the side of the house.

      When they reached the back porch, she pawed at the door handle and attempted to open it with her mouth. She snarled when it didn’t budge.

      “Well, we tried,” he said.

      She cocked her head, and he swore she rolled her eyes.

      Taking off to a chipped birdbath in the middle of the lawn, covered with dirt, she pawed the rocks surrounding the base of the concrete fixture and barked. Blake limped out to the fountain, more to appease her than anything.

      There on the ground was a key.

      “Okay, dog. Now you’re freaking me out.” If she had had two legs instead of four, she could pass for human. And she had to be one brilliant pup to relate the key to the door.

      As he unlocked the door, he noticed someone peeking over the fence.

      He pointed an accusatory finger at the dog. “Fine, but if we get arrested you’re taking the rap.” He patted her on the head. Before he could turn the knob and open the door himself, she nosed it open and stood in the small kitchen, as if waiting for him to come inside. Once he was in, she closed the door with her nose.

      Blake had never seen such a thing. The few dogs he’d had when he was a boy could sit and lie down, but that was about it.

      Harley woofed and trotted to the living room, where she sat in front of a wingback chair. She nodded at him, as if she wanted him to sit down in it. More out of curiosity than anything, he did. A paw shot out and pushed so hard on the chair he worried he’d go head over heels.

      But he didn’t fall.

      The dog ducked beneath the chair and tossed out several stuffed animals, a ball and chew bones that had seen better days. Once she had her stash from under the chair, she moved the items one at a time to the charcoal-gray sofa. The booty soon became a pillow as she lay atop her toys, sighing as if she’d been on a long journey.

      “Poor girl,” Blake whispered. The sight of her relaxing choked him up.

      “That’s the first time I’ve seen her sleep since he passed,” a feminine voice whispered.

      Head snapping around, he took in Macy Reynolds’s tight jeans, pink hoodie and those furry boots women wore when the thermometer dipped below seventy. The town was having an unusually cool October, and the temperature hung around the fifty-degree mark. A sleepy angel with no makeup, and more beautiful than she’d been the day before.

      “I saw her running past my mom’s house when I left this morning and I decided to follow.” He held up a hand. “I swear she made me unlock the door. She showed me where the key was.”

      “I believe it. Evidently the drama was about her missing toys. I don’t blame her,” Macy continued to whisper. “I’m kind of fond of my stuff. I don’t have that much, but what I do have is precious to me.”

      Odd since he’d learned she inherited her uncle’s house. He assumed she had tons of stuff.

      “What?” She checked her clothing as if she might have missed a button.

      “Nothing. I...heard last night that you inherited your uncle’s new mansion.”

      She scrunched her face. “Yes, he— Yes.”

      “For the record, I haven’t been stalking you. Some of the gossips at the party were talking about it.”

      She smirked and moved to the sofa to sit beside Harley.

      “Is there an expiration date or something on being the subject of town gossip? I’ve never lived in a place where other people were so in your business. Usually, as a reporter, I’m the nosy one. It’s disconcerting. And I don’t think they like me very much, although I’m doing my best to turn their local into a paper that resembles more than tractor reports.”

      He laughed, and the dog opened an eye and glared at him.

      “Unfortunately, until the next interesting person moves to town,