“I guess he is really allergic to dogs, huh?”
Becca was the last to leave the vehicle, followed by three huge Dobermans. The dogs were sleek and muscled, black-and-tan, with alert but wary expressions. Stacey watched her sister stare at her daughter, then at the dogs.
“No,” Harper breathed. “She didn’t.”
“Mom, it’s not what you think!”
All the Bloom women had dark hair and blue eyes, with heart-shaped faces. Stacey was the tallest at five-seven. Bunny and Harper were both a few inches shorter, and Becca was in the middle. Seeing them together, no one could miss the family resemblance.
Alicia sighed. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Harper. Great-Grandmother Cheryl or whatever she was to you didn’t leave you the dogs.” The blonde woman’s expression turned smug. “She left them to Becca. All three of them. Good luck.”
Harper took a step toward her daughter. “She left you the dogs and you never thought to give me a heads-up?”
Her daughter’s chin rose. “I knew you’d overreact and tell me I couldn’t bring them home.”
Terence continued to choke and cough. Becca looked at him.
“Dad is allergic to dogs, like you said. He took all kinds of meds but he still had a hard time. I guess it was being in the car and everything.”
Harper barely glanced at her ex, instead keeping her attention on Becca. “We cannot have three dogs.”
“They’re huge and dangerous,” Bunny piped in. “And that one’s pregnant.”
“Her name is Bay,” Becca said, still sounding defiant. “And they’re mine. Great-Aunt Cheryl wanted me to have them and you can’t take them away from me.”
Kit put his arm around Stacey. “To think we almost named our daughter Bay,” he murmured. “Awkward.”
She appreciated his attempt at humor but was more concerned about Becca and Harper fighting. If her sister couldn’t get along with her daughter, what chance did Stacey have with her child? Harper was the perfect mother. She knew how to do everything.
“Becca, be reasonable,” Harper said. “They’re huge dogs. We don’t have enough room for them. Plus, they’re specially trained. Shouldn’t the government take them?”
Becca’s eyes filled with tears. “I knew you’d be like this. You never want me to have what I want.”
Alicia had opened the trunk. She started pulling out bags and boxes. “No one needs to help me,” she said sarcastically. “I’m fine.”
Both Kit and Lucas walked over and finished emptying the trunk. Terence stumbled into the car while Alicia got behind the wheel. They drove off without saying a word.
Lucas glanced at the dogs. “What’s the boy’s name?” he asked.
“Thor and the other one is Jazz.”
“Thor, come.”
Lucas’s voice was firm. The male Doberman trotted over and sat in front of him. Lucas held out his hand. Thor sniffed, then looked at him.
“Good boy.” Lucas patted him on the head. “I’ll take him.”
Harper spun to face him. “You’ll what?”
“I’ll take him. I have a yard and I’ve always wanted a dog. It’ll be great.”
Becca sniffed. “That would be okay, if you promise to be a good puppy dad.”
“I do promise.”
Stacey met the gaze of the pregnant dog. The animal looked calm and kind of sweet, in a very large, I could eat you in a hot minute kind of way.
“We’ll take, um, Bay,” she said without thinking. Maybe she could learn something when the dog had her puppies. If nothing else, it would be nice to have another pregnant female around.
“Stacey,” Bunny said disapprovingly. “You can’t just blurt out things like that. You have to talk to your husband first. What if Kit doesn’t want a dog?”
Kit met Stacey’s gaze. She saw the understanding in his eyes and knew he got what she’d been thinking. Still, she should have asked him—a dog was a big responsibility and she spent her days at the lab.
Kit smiled at her, then he called Bay. The Doberman hurried to sit in front of him.
“Want to come home with us?” he asked.
She tilted her head as if considering the offer.
Persimmon clapped her hands together. “This is so wonderful. Like a Hallmark movie. The whole family pulled together.” She smiled at Harper. “Now you have to let your daughter keep the dog because it’s just one. I could so cry right now.”
“Me, too,” Harper muttered. “Becca, the only way we’re keeping a dog is if you take responsibility for it. I mean that. You have to do everything. If you don’t, it goes. Am I clear?”
“I’ll do it, Mom. You’ll see. I’ll handle it all.”
“I want to believe you,” Harper began, then stopped herself. “All right. Let’s sort through all this stuff and figure out what goes where. Did Great-Aunt Cheryl leave an instruction sheet or something?”
“There’s a whole book,” Becca said eagerly as she wiped away tears. “They know some really cool stuff, Mom. You’ll see.”
“I’ll do research on pregnant dogs,” Kit said. “We’re going to have puppies.”
And a baby, Stacey thought, knowing there was no way she could tell her mother the truth today. As Harper said, Stacey either had the best or worst luck in the world. She just couldn’t decide which.
BECCA SZYMANSKI CARRIED her suitcase and backpack into the living room and let both fall to the carpeted floor. She was happy, sad, mad, annoyed and relieved all at once, and her chest wasn’t big enough for that much emotion.
She’d known her mom was totally going to overreact to the dogs and she hadn’t been wrong. Just once, just one single time, she would really appreciate it if her mother would listen and respond like a thoughtful person instead of always jumping to the conclusion that not only would it go badly but it would all be Becca’s fault because she wasn’t responsible enough.
Becca was responsible. She’d gotten through her parents’ divorce without letting either of them know how devastated she was. She’d gotten through her best friend’s moving away without anyone seeing how shattered she was inside. She lived a thousand emotions her mother knew nothing about...and never would.
Becca collapsed to the floor and started to cover her face with her hands only to hear a faint whimper. She looked up and saw Jazz standing just inside the front door, her expression worried, her brown eyes questioning.
“Oh, Jazz, I’m sorry. I forgot you were there.” Becca bit her bottom lip. Did saying that make her mother right?
No, she told herself quickly. Of course not. She’d been home five seconds—it would take a while for them all to adjust to a pet.
She shifted onto her knees, then held out her arms and said softly, “Jazz, come here.”
The black-and-tan Doberman approached, then sat obediently. Becca threw her arms around the dog and hung on. “It’s okay,” she whispered against the dog’s warm body. “You’re going to be safe now, I promise. I’m going to be here for you.”
She