With a playful snort, the animal’s entire body was wiggling as if so excited by the idea of making a friend she couldn’t hold in the glee. Darcy reached out to ruffle her ears, and Fancy, confusing Darcy’s movement for time to play, snatched up the pillow and gave it a good shake.
“No!” Darcy cried, halting in her tracks while little bits of stuffing leached into the air, causing perspiration to bead on her forehead.
Fancy, on the other hand, wasn’t worried in the slightest. Nope, she gave another rambunctious whip of the head before jumping up and down with the pillow as if this were all fun and games.
Sadly, this situation was about as close to fun and games as natural child birthing. Not only was the vintage silk pillow, a family heirloom passed down from the bride’s great-grandmother, in danger of becoming a chew-toy, but the bride’s ring was swinging dangerously from the aged ribbon.
And this wasn’t just any bride. Candice Covington was the former Miss Oregon, a Portland mover and shaker, and the first bride to be wed at the newly renovated Belle Mont House. Candice was already in the bridal suite, her beloved in the tower room, and two hundred of their closest friends and family were set to start arriving in just over an hour—and the dog looked content to nuzzle the pillow all afternoon.
With its teeth.
“Stop!” she said in her most authoritative tone, putting her hand out.
To Darcy’s surprise, the dog stopped. Her snout going into hypersniffer mode, she dropped the pillow to the grass and rose up to smell the air. Seemed Fancy had caught the scent of the prosciutto-wrapped figs sitting on a chair that Darcy had been tasting, and she stood up on her hind legs, then walked around in three perfect circles.
“Someone’s got moves,” she said. “Not bad, but mine are better.”
A decade of planning events for Portland’s pickiest clients and four years in the trenches as a single mother had taught Darcy the art of positive redirection. She’d lasted through potty training, teething, and chickenpox. This stubborn ball of fluff didn’t stand a chance.
Eying the flower arrangement on the closest table, Darcy grabbed a decorative stick and gave it a little shake. “Want to play with the stick for a while?” The dog sat, eyes wide, head cocked to the side in an explosion of cuteness. “We can switch toys before you destroy the pillow, okay?”
“Yip!”
Tail up like a heat-seeking radar, the dog hit the fetch-and-retrieve position, pointing her nose toward one of the open fields.
“Ready?” Darcy wiggled the stick again for show. “Go get ‘em!”
The stick flew through the air, going as far in the opposite direction as it could. Darcy released a sigh of relief when it cleared the fountain and landed in the middle of the field.
A low growl sounded, followed by a blur of white fur that bolted past.
Those little legs working for the prize. A position Darcy could relate to.
Located in the prestigious West Hills, Belle Mont House was three stories of Portland history with extensive manicured gardens, six bedrooms, a grand salon, and captivating views of the city and Mount Hood—all of which needed to be meticulously cared for. And Darcy was the sole caretaker.
She had driven by the old property a thousand times over the years. But she hadn’t really recognized its potential until after her world had fallen apart and a heartbreaking betrayal had left her life in tatters—much like the foundation of this forgotten house. Unable to watch something so beautiful and full of history crumble, she’d saved it from demolition, then spent every penny and waking moment renovating it back to its original grandeur. In return, Belle Mont had given her something even more precious—a future for her and her daughter.
Today marked Belle Mont’s first day in operation as the year’s “Most Romantic” wedding destination in the Pacific Northwest and Darcy as its planner extraordinaire—according to the editor at Wedding Magazine, who’d left a message earlier about sending a high-profile couple to check out the location.
A couple so hush-hush, the editor refused to give the name for fear that the press would show. But if they decided that Belle Mont was their dream wedding venue, and Darcy could accommodate them with the last Sunday in July, the only date that worked around the couple’s hectic schedule, then Belle Mont would land a huge spread in the August issue.
The endorsement alone was enough to make her say yes on the spot. Not to mention the profit for hosting such a lavish event would go a long way toward helping pay back all the money she’d invested into the renovation—and secure her future in Portland.
A future that now resided in the jaws of a dog that could fit in her pocket.
Fancy snatched the stick and darted across the lawn toward the twinkle-lit and peony-covered gazebo in record time—all with the pillow still in its jowls.
“Hey,” she called out, “we had a deal!”
The dog’s tail went up as if flipping the bird at their deal before she ran beneath a row of chairs and struck a different kind of pose altogether. A move that showed enough doggie bits to prove that under that pink bling, Fancy was all male. And about to shit all over Candice’s perfect day.
A situation Darcy knew all too well.
“Had I known you had a stupid stick down there, I wouldn’t have bothered trying to reason with you.”
In Darcy’s experience, men loved the forbidden almost as much as they loved their stick. So she fumbled with her skirt, pulling it above her thighs, and gave chase.
Fancy took off, and man, those toothpick legs could fly. Ears flapping behind him, butt moving like lightning bugs in a jar, the pooch headed straight for the rose garden, which lay directly across from the aisle runner that had Candice and Carter spelled out in the palest of pink peony petals.
