Home Is Where the Bark Is Read Free

She widened her eyes. “But, Mr. Whalen, uh, Nick, thousands—maybe millions—of dogs have their own blogs. Trust me.”
    He had trouble sorting his words. “Bessie will never have a blog. Uh . . . that is, I will never write a blog for her.That is . . .”
    “Yes?”
    His jaw set in a stubborn line. “The dog is a dog. I am her master, not her father.”
    Serena put her index finger to her mouth. “Shh. Don’t say that too loudly. Mustn’t risk offending people who find it unacceptable to claim ownership of a species of companion animals.”
    Nick Whalen paused. “You lost me at the dog blog.” He crossed his arms on his substantial chest. “I get it.” He nodded slowly. “You do have a test for owners. And I’m being set up to fail.”
    Serena shook her head and smiled, properly this time. “There is no test.” She had to quit teasing him, irresistible as it was when he reacted so marvelously. It wasn’t worth the risk he might take offense and walk out. She needed every dollar of every day-care fee. And she loved running Paws-A-While even more than she had imagined. Finally she had found the right career. “Lots of our guests have Facebook pages and blogs. We link to them on our website if you’re interested.”
    He put up his hand in a halt sign. “Thank you. I’ll pass.”
    “But you’re okay to have your dog registered with us as Bessie Whalen?”
    “If you must.” He followed his words with a heavy sigh of resignation.
    Again Serena was puzzled. Surely Bessie’s vet used a similar filing system. “Nick, is Bessie your wife’s dog?”
    “No wife.”
    “Girlfriend?”
    “No girlfriend.”
    No girlfriend. Her pulse gave a disconcerting little flutter. “Ookaay. Do you have a shared custody agreement with an ex?”
    “No.” He frowned. “Is this line of questioning necessary?”
    “I’m sorry if that seemed a little personal. But joint custody can get tricky so it’s best we’re forewarned.”
    “I have full, uh, custody of Bessie,” he said, tight-lipped.
    “I’m glad to hear that. It’s just I wondered . . .”
    He seemed so dog clueless. Why would a guy like this book into an establishment like hers that specialized in luxury beauty treatments for dogs? She suspected he didn’t know the difference between a flea treatment and a fur extension.
    His frown deepened. “Have you got a problem with a big guy and a little dog? Is that it?”
    “Not at all. I’m sorry if I gave that impression.”
    This big-guy-and-little-dog combo didn’t seem right. Her other client, the shaven-head, muscle-bound leather man and his miniature Chihuahua in matching studded harness were perfect together. But a Yorki-poo and this man?
    She didn’t have time to waste puzzling about the discrepancy. She schooled her face to look very serious. “We’re inclusive here at Paws-A-While. Dogs of all sizes are welcome, so long as they’re suited to day care.”
    “Right,” he said.
    “Personally, I adore little dogs. In fact, meeting my Maltese, Snowball, will be the first stage of Bessie’s temperament test. Then if we accept her as a guest, he’ll be her first puppy pal and help her settle in.”
    “That’s reassuring.” The word was edged with irony but Serena refused to bite.
    “The first day of school can be scary for a kid if she doesn’t know anyone,” she said. “I figure it’s the same for a dog.”
    The word “dog-kid” hung unspoken in the air. She knew it. Nick Whalen knew she knew it. But neither of them was going to utter it.
    “So Snowball is your canine customer-relations contact?” he asked, a hint of levity lifting the corners of that so-sexy mouth.
    Again, she couldn’t be sure if he were serious or not. You never knew with dog people. Not that he seemed like a fully fledged dog person.
    She nodded. “Exactly. That’s what it says on his job description. His treat supply is linked to his performance. Unhappy client dog, no dog biscuit.”
    At her words, Nick