The Parent Trap(35)

All week she had done her best to avoid him, and aside from that brief encounter at the grocery store, she had succeeded. In spite of her initial reaction to the way he talked about his daughter, she had to admit that her impression of the man was starting to soften.

According to Casey, he was already one of the favorite teachers at Serenity Bay High, and the best soccer coach ever. Granted, Casey’s views might be somewhat skewed since he’d named her as the team’s first-string forward and her teammates had voted her assistant captain. But the man also had some serious cooking skills. The pasta sauce and garlic bread he’d sent over with Kate had been to-die-for delicious, and Casey hadn’t been able to say enough good things about the raisin bread he’d baked. Clearly there was more to the man than a pretty face and killer abs. So had she misjudged him? Caught him on a bad day? Could someone so well-rounded really be the hopeless parent she’d taken him for?

Maybe she’d find out tonight, she thought, tucking a bundle of envelopes into her briefcase. She would drop those at the post office on her way to the store. She was turning off her computer when the front door was flung open and banged shut.

“Mom? I’m home!”

“Up here, sweetie. In my office.”

Casey pounded up the stairs, more energetic and even more excited than usual after putting in a shift at the animal shelter.

“You’ll never guess!” She burst into the room, breathless, face flushed, eyes wide.

“You’re probably right.”

“A water main broke and there’s water everywhere. The shelter has to close for a couple of days, maybe longer. They have to dig up the parking lot and everything.”

“That’s too bad. What will they do with all those animals?” Sarah zipped her laptop into its protective sleeve and tucked it into her briefcase along with her paperwork.

“Well, that’s the thing. I was hoping—”

“Oh, no. Casey. No. We’ve talked about this. We’re in no position to leave an animal alone all day while I’m at the shop and you’re at school.”

Her daughter went quiet and looked sheepishly down at her shoes.

Uh-oh. “Casey? What have you done? Please tell me you didn’t make a promise we can’t deliver on.”

Her daughter’s guilty shuffle told her that’s exactly what she had done.

“You did.” Sarah strengthened her resolve. A dog was simply out of the question.

“I didn’t actually make a promise,” Casey confessed. “I sort of made a decision.”

“You decided we would take one of those animals?”

Casey’s nod was barely perceptible. “I decided, and then I sort of...brought him home.”

“You...what? Where—?”

“Mom, I didn’t have a choice! The animals had to go right away and I couldn’t leave him there.”

Him? Let me guess. “Petey.”

This time the nod was more vigorous.

“Where is he?”

“Ah...” She looked up and finally made eye contact. “In his crate. On the front porch.”

“Oh, sweetie. You brought him home? Without checking with me?”

“I had to, Mom. It was crazy. There was water everywhere. They called Dr. Jacobson at the vet clinic and she came and took three of the bigger dogs to her place.”

Sarah’s sigh was heavier than intended. “Okay, let’s meet this guy who has stolen your heart.”

Casey’s eyes filled with unchecked emotion.

“No promises,” Sarah said. “Seriously. No. Promises.”

Undaunted, Casey whipped around, ponytail flying, and dashed down the stairs. Sarah followed, unable to match her enthusiasm.

“Wait’ll you see him, Mom. He’s so cute, so adorable, I know you’re going to love him.”

And I know nothing of the sort.

Casey flung the door open and held it, waiting for Sarah to join her. She knelt in front of a pet crate that seemed impossibly small for a dog, that’s for sure, and pulled a red canvas leash from the plastic bag sitting next to it. She opened the crate, snagged the little dog’s red collar as he wriggled his way out, belly to the porch floorboards, and clipped on the leash.

“Good boy,” she crooned. “Good boy, Petey. You’re going to live with me now.” She shot Sarah a look. “For this week, anyway. Yeah, you are. That’s a good boy.”

Petey’s little pink tongue darted across the back of Casey’s hand that gripped the leash. Her other hand stroked the smoke-gray ears. The rest of him resembled a shaggy white dust mop.

“They gave me everything he’ll need for a week. Food, treats, his food and water bowls, a ball, his squeaker toy...” She produced a yellow plush duck and squeezed it, producing a high-pitched squeak from the toy and an even higher-pitched one from the dog. “His tennis ball squeaks, too.” Her demonstration had the same effect as the squeaky duck.