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Chapter One
As usual, I’m in trouble because of a dog.
It’s not the worst dog-related trouble I’ve ever been in. Being the self-appointed dog rescue squad of Reindeer Falls, I’ve had to crawl under plenty of houses to coax out a terrier, or a lab, or any number of -oodles—that last one being goldendoodles, shepadoodles, and more. As a dog lover, there is nothing that could keep me from helping a dog in need. And so, when Joe passed away with no one to care for Rudy, I didn’t even need to be asked. I welcomed Rudy into my home without a second thought.
As far as dogs go, Rudy’s actually one of the easier ones. Aside from an overexcitement around squirrels, he’s pretty chill and easygoing. I can take him with me to the library, and he’ll sit in my office all day, relaxing on the pouf that I got him until it’s time for lunch. He’s even somewhat of a draw, bringing folks into the library to meet the library dog, because he’s so cute. Which, if it gets people reading, I’ll take it.
Rudy and I? We’re bonded. You know that scene in 101 Dalmatians where all the people look like their dog? Well, I think Rudy and I have already started to look alike. We both have brown eyes. Some might even call them warm brown with a touch of sweetness. That’s what I say about Rudy, anyway. No one’s ever said that about me—yet.
But that’s not all. Rudy has spots. I have freckles.
See? And… well, sure, that may be where the similarities end, but like I said, we’re a package deal now. Better together.
But now, Rudy and I have to be separated. It’s criminal, especially because I’m fairly convinced that if Rudy had a say, he’d choose me as his forever human now that sweet Joe has passed on.
But do I get to keep Rudy? No. Because as it turns out, Joe made provisions for Rudy in his will. And now I have to hand Rudy over to Carter Sheppard, the guy who inherited him. The guy who will be all wrong for Rudy. Utterly, perfectly wrong.
It’s not that Carter Sheppard is a bad guy, not necessarily. He was a nice guy, even back in high school. And sure, I might have crushed on him back in said days. And of course I’ve Googled him since, as one does out of general curiosity, and by most accounts, he’s a decent guy.
But as a grown woman I can tell you he’s just not the right fit for Rudy. Because Carter Sheppard’s life revolves around one thing and one thing only: baseball.
Actually, maybe it’s two things. Baseball and women.
Both of those things keep Carter very busy. And they keep him away from home. According to my research, Carter was pretty busy hitting home runs at every stadium across America. And when he wasn’t hitting home runs, he was hopscotching across the globe with a bevy of women by his side. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, so many… home runs.
It doesn’t take a genius to realize that kind of lifestyle is not conducive to proper dog ownership. Not at all.
Why, why, why didn’t Joe leave Rudy to me? I was always over there with Joe, exchanging Reindeer Falls gossip while Rudy lounged under the table beneath us. Joe was my coffee buddy. He loved to tell me stories about his “illustrious nephews” while I slipped Rudy a biscuit or gave him a scratch on the head.
But none of it matters because today is the day where I have to give up my dog, all because Carter Sheppard has finally decided to arrive in Reindeer Falls with his perfectly chiseled jawbone.
I sigh. Living next to Joe all these years, I’ve rung his doorbell a thousand times. But I haven’t been inside since he passed away. I haven’t even seen Ryan, the Sheppard brother who inherited the house, yet. The house has been dark and sad for months until now.
I look down at Rudy, sitting beside my feet like the perfect angel that he is. He blinks up at me, cocking his head so that one of his ears flops to the side.
“Ugh, don’t give me those eyes!” I plead, shifting so that I can better hold onto the bag of dog food in my other arm. “You know I don’t want to do this.”
It’s not a lie or even an understatement. I really, really don’t want to do this. And if it weren’t in Joe’s will, I’d probably just’ve flat-out refused to give up this dog.
So I sigh again and ring the doorbell. Inside, I hear the sound of someone talking loudly on the phone. Maybe I should come back. In a year. Or never.
But no, this is the time that the executor told me to come. And I need to rip this Band-Aid off. It’s going to be hard enough as it is.
