A Teaspoon of Trouble Read online

  So he retreated to his comfort zone. Animals. “Well, let’s start with the dog, and see where that goes. Okay?”

  She gave Roscoe a dubious glance. “You really think that dog is going to listen to me?”

  “He will, if he realizes it’s in his best interests to do so. And if you establish that you’re the boss.”

  She scoffed at that idea. “If I do that, can I fire him as a dog? Because he kinda stinks at the job.”

  Matt laughed. “It’ll be fine. I promise. Let’s go outside with Harley and Roscoe and work on some basic obedience.”

  At the sound of his name, Harley snapped to his feet and crossed to the back door, with Roscoe following along, hapless and joyed just to be going somewhere. Roscoe was a good dog, kinda dumb, kinda sweet, and still young enough to have the energy of a preschool class. Like all dogs, all Roscoe needed was a little structure to get him under control. Matt pulled on the winter coat he kept by the back door, grabbed a small bag from the counter, opened the door, let the dogs out, then held the door for Carolyn.

  She brushed past him and once again, he caught a whiff of her perfume. It sent his mind down winding paths that involved his bedroom and a long, lazy night.

  Damn.

  “Okay. Uh, let’s get to work with Roscoe.” He had to concentrate on why he was here, not on a woman who had broken his heart a decade ago. He unclipped the leash and the dog took off, circling the yard over and over again, pausing to sniff, then run again. Roscoe was a happy dog, busy and sweet-tempered. Undoubtedly he had been through a lot of changes with the new home and the new master, and that could account for some of his behavior. If Carolyn could establish some leadership, then a lot of the problems with the dog would go away. “Tell him to come.”

  Carolyn snorted. “Right. Like he’s going to listen.”

  “Use an authoritative voice. Keep the command short, but speak in a tone that says you’re the alpha.”

  “The alpha?”

  “Alpha dog.” He gave her a grin. “Or in your case, alpha girl.”

  She laughed. Her breath frosted in the cold air, and her cheeks pinked. She looked younger, cuter. “Is that even a thing?”

  “To a dog, it is. A dog wants to obey, wants to please his master. You just need to establish that you’re in charge, and he’ll fall into place.”

  Sort of like a teenaged boyfriend who had been so head over heels, he’d been blind to the fundamental differences between them.

  Carolyn gave him a dubious look, then bent down, and said to the dog, “Roscoe, come.”

  The dog ignored her. Started digging a hole to China in the back corner.

  “Roscoe, come.” She made a face, then raised her voice. “Roscoe, come!”

  Matt moved closer to her. “Women tend to end their sentences with the sound of a question. A dog can hear that, and figures you’re an unsure leader. So he ignores you. Try to say it again, but end the command on a flat, stern note.”

  Carolyn drew in a breath. “Roscoe. Come!”

  The dog perked his ears up, pivoted toward Carolyn, and hesitated. She repeated the command, and this time, he trotted across the yard like that had been his intention all along. Matt dug in the bag he’d brought outside and handed a dog treat to Carolyn. “Reward him, so he associates doing the right thing with good things happening.”

  Roscoe stopped before her, tail wagging, nose sniffing the air. “Good boy,” Carolyn said, then tossed him the treat. Roscoe caught it midair, swallowed the morsel in one bite, and ran across the yard. They repeated the exercise several times, with Roscoe responding faster each time. In between, Matt gave her some tips for keeping Roscoe under control at home.

  “He did it,” she said. “He really did it.” She turned toward Matt, her face bright and happy, filled with the smile he used to be able to draw in his sleep. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t do much. You did all the work.”

  “You gave me hope that maybe I can get this dog under control. And if I can do that…maybe the rest will fall into place, too.” She put a hand on his chest, her eyes wide and sincere. “Thank you.”

  Matt swallowed hard. From the day he met her, whenever Carolyn looked at him that way, he’d been putty in her hands. And right now, with her warm palm against his chest and the dark notes of her perfume drifting in the air, he couldn’t quite remember why it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with her.

  Damn. He still wanted her. Maybe it was the memories whispering through his mind, or the knowledge that they were both adults now, and anything they did together would be that much better, but desire started to simmer inside him all the same.

  He shifted a little closer, inches away from her. “I really didn’t do anything.”

  “You did a lot,” she said, but the words were a whisper. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then moved back to his eyes. “Are you going to kiss me?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “I think it would be…” her gaze dropped to his lips again and held there for one long, hot second “…an exceedingly bad idea.”

  “Because…”

  “Because we broke up years ago and I’m not staying here and we have to work together and…” She shook her head and backed up, shifting into serious Carolyn as easily as changing her shirt. “And I’m not getting wrapped up in this fairy tale again. We both know that’s not real life.”

  Then she called the dog to her again, snapped on his leash, and said goodbye to Matt. He watched her go, and cursed himself for getting wrapped up in her spell.

  Lesson learned. Again.

  *

  No matter how much roast beef she ate, or how many mashed potatoes she consumed, the anxious, restless flutter in Carolyn’s stomach remained throughout dinner. The encounter with Matt—the moment she had almost kissed him and opened a door she’d shut long ago—had left her shaken. How had they gone from teaching the dog to obey to being inches away? To her wanting nothing more than to kiss him?

  She’d sat through a dinner with her parents and Emma that consisted of Emma talking almost nonstop. Dad, still grieving, still broken, stared at his food and pushed it around on his plate. Mom fretted over him, and didn’t eat a bite. Carolyn sat between them, at a loss for how to mend the hole torn in the Hanson world.

  The entire meal was painful and stiff. After the dishes were cleared and washed, Dad went out to the garage, Mom went into her room to watch television, and a suffocating silence fell over the house. Carolyn set up the baby gates Matt had recommended she get to keep Roscoe in the kitchen—and away from her shoes—then grabbed Emma and got in the car to head downtown.

  They pulled up in front of the Marietta ice cream shop with its bright pink and white awning and bistro-style chairs and tables. As soon as Carolyn lifted her out of the booster seat and set her on the sidewalk, Emma started dancing from foot to foot. “Are we getting ice cream? I love ice cream, Aunt Carolyn.”

  Carolyn could see Sandy in Emma’s excitement. She had so much of her mother’s personality, along with Sandy’s eyes and her smile. The similarities caused an ache in Carolyn’s chest. How she wished Sandy was here to indulge in some ice cream and a night in downtown Marietta. “Me too,” Carolyn said, forcing a smile to her face and pushing the grief to the back of her mind. “I’d eat it every day if I could.”

  “You would?” Emma looked up at her. “I wanna eat ice cream every day, too.”

  Carolyn laughed. “Well, it’s not healthy to do that. And if you had it every day, it wouldn’t be special anymore, would it?” She opened the door and ushered Emma inside the warm building. It was a nice night for late January in Marietta, with temperatures in the low fifties, a quick anomaly that would be gone in a blink. Not quite ice cream weather but as close as she could get in a Montana winter.

  Over the last few days, Emma had had long stretches where she had been quiet and sad, but she usually bounced back pretty easily. Carolyn wondered if maybe Emma hadn’t accepted the death of her parents yet, b
ut Carolyn didn’t bring it up. What could she say? How could she break this kid’s heart? So she bought her toys and took her to the park and out for ice cream.

  They stopped at the glass-fronted counter. A rainbow of flavors of ice cream filled the five-gallon tubs inside the freezer chest. A teenage girl with her hair in a ponytail, a ball cap, and a bright pink uniform waited for their order, a ready scoop in her hand.

  Carolyn bent down to Emma’s level. “So, what flavor is your favorite?”

  “Cookie dough!” Emma pointed at the tub filled with vanilla ice cream and chunks of chocolate chip cookie dough.

  Something they had in common. It wasn’t much, but it was a start, and maybe from there, she could find some way to fill the giant shoes Sandy and Bob had left behind.

  “That’s my favorite, too,” Carolyn said. “Two single scoops of cookie dough, please. And a cup of water.” The girl filled their order, Carolyn paid, then she and Emma went over to one of the outdoor tables to eat their melting treats.

  “Wait, Emma. Let me clean the seat off—”

  But Emma had already scrambled into one of the wrought-iron chairs and wrangled her plastic spoon into the ice cream. Hopefully the usual cold temperatures would have killed off any germs on the table and seat.

  “Don’t take too big of bites,” Carolyn said. “You can get an ice cream headache because it’s cold.”

  Emma smiled when she swallowed, as if the dessert was the best thing she’d ever had. “This is so yummy, Aunt Carolyn.”

  “I agree.” Carolyn wondered if her face had that same smile when she ate her first bite. She rarely ate ice cream, and when she did, she savored every last morsel. The ice cream from the Creamery was some of the best she’d ever tasted.

  “Let me guess. Cookie dough.”

  Carolyn turned at the sound of Matt’s voice. She hadn’t even noticed him arrive. His coat was open and she could see he had changed his shirt. Now he had on a faded Springsteen concert T-shirt with his jeans. The T-shirt outlined the muscles in his shoulders, his arms, and the way his waist tapered down to the jeans. Carolyn realized the ice cream wasn’t the only thing that made her smile. “Hey, Matt. I can’t believe you remember that.” And the way she took her iced tea and how to get close enough to drive her wild.

  “I remember a lot of things, Carolyn.” Before Carolyn could decide what Matt meant by that, he turned to Emma. Harley had wandered over to Emma, nosing at her for a pat on the head. “Seems Harley wants you to share. He’s forgetting he’s a dog and dogs don’t get to eat ice cream.”

  Emma giggled. “His nose is cold.”

  “Do you know why?” He bent down beside Emma’s seat, and she leaned toward him, eager to hear the secret. “Legend has it that when Noah was on the ark with all the animals, one of the dogs found a hole that was letting water in. If lots of water got in, then the ark could sink. So the dog plugged the hole with his nose, even though the ocean was cold and wet, until Noah could fix it. After that, God gave dogs cold, wet noses to help them cool off when they get too hot.”

  She patted Harley’s nose and giggled again. “Harley would save the ark, too. Harley’s a nice dog.”

  “Best dog I’ve ever had. I rescued him five years ago, and he’s been my buddy ever since.”

  “Are you gonna get ice cream too?” Emma asked. “Cuz me and Aunt Carolyn have cookie dough and it’s our favorite.”

  “In fact, I was stopping in to get an ice cream.” He swiveled his attention to Carolyn. “Maybe I could come back and join you after I do?”

  She should say no. She should put as much distance between them as possible, keep everything business-only. “Sure. That would be great.”

  Maybe she’d start doing that tomorrow.

  She told herself she’d agreed because this was the happiest she’d seen Emma in a while. Matt seemed to have a natural rapport with her, instead of the stilted conversations Carolyn had with her niece. He made it look so easy, and a part of her envied that.

  Matt went inside the shop and emerged a couple minutes later with a dish of strawberry ice cream. He sat down in the third seat. Harley padded over to his master and lay at his feet. “My favorite is strawberry,” he told Emma, showing her his dish.

  I remember, Carolyn thought. She remembered a lot of things, too. How he’d loved it when she kissed his neck, how he loved sunrises, and how he liked his coffee dark and strong. She remembered how it felt to kiss him, to be held by him, to lie on a blanket and watch the stars dance over their heads.

  “Aunt Carolyn.” Emma tugged on Carolyn’s sleeve. “You didn’t share.”

  She jerked her attention back to the present. To the conversation going on between Matt and Emma while she’d zoned out. “Uh, share what?”

  “Your favorite animal. Dr. Matt’s is a giraffe. And my favorite is a elephant. What’s yours?”

  Well, it sure wasn’t dogs. “Um…horses I guess. When I was a little girl, I wanted my parents to buy me a horse for my birthday.”

  Emma’s eyes widened. “Did they?”

  “Nope. But that’s okay. I go out and ride horses on my day off.”

  “You still do that?” Matt said softly.

  She met his gaze, held it. A memory whispered between them, of a lazy summer afternoon when he’d taken her horseback riding. They had ridden all over the vast Montana landscape surrounding Marietta, stopping by a pond for a picnic lunch, and a sweet moment of privacy under the shade of an oak tree. “Yeah, though my days off are few and far between. I guess you never outgrow some things.”

  Emma squirmed between them. “I finished my ice cream. Can I go play with Harley?”

  “Sure,” Matt said before Carolyn could decide if that was a good idea or not. The moment between them broke.

  “Come on, Harley,” Emma said. “We’re gonna go play!”

  “Put your trash away first,” Carolyn said. She nodded toward a metal can a few feet away. The three of them tossed their empty containers inside it, then Carolyn put a halting hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Wait, Emma. Don’t move yet.”

  Carolyn wet an extra napkin with her water, then scrubbed the sticky ice cream from Emma’s hands. Emma twisted and turned, anxious to be gone. “Let me straighten your coat and—”

  “I wanna go play, Aunt Carolyn!”

  “She’s just going to get messy in the park,” Matt said. “It’ll be fine.”

  “I think I should—”

  Matt covered her hand with his. “It’ll be fine. Kids get messy. Just relax, Carolyn.”

  She couldn’t tell him that relaxing was the one thing she had yet to do since she arrived in Marietta. Every time Emma went anywhere or did anything, Carolyn worried. “I just want to make sure she’s safe and healthy.”

  The unspoken words—because I can’t lose her, too, and I can’t let Sandy down.

  “It’ll be fine. Come on, let’s get to the park before it’s dark. Crawford Park is really close by.” They walked down the street to the large park: a lush, green space filled with a playground for kids, benches for enjoying the day, and trees older than the town itself. The sun had begun to go down while they were eating their ice cream, casting the park in hues of purple and dark pink.

  Emma broke into a run, barreling across the grassy space. Harley let out a bark and galloped after her. “Wait, Emma, don’t—”

  “She’ll be fine,” Matt said again.

  “But the dog—”

  “Harley’s good with kids. He knows better than to jump on them, and he’s pretty protective. Let her run off some energy. She’ll sleep better tonight.”

  They fell into an easy stroll, trailing the dog and Emma. Carolyn’s heart hammered with worry and a thousand potential worries about germs and falls and anything that could go wrong with a kid in a park with an energetic dog.

  “Emma sleeping tonight would be a godsend,” Carolyn said. “It seems like she has extra energy just before she’s supposed to go to bed.”

  Matt chuckled.
“I bet it’s been tough stepping into Sandy’s shoes.”

  Carolyn knew she was barely functioning as Emma’s mom. Handing her off to Gramma for storytime at night wasn’t the same as being there to answer the hard questions, or figuring out a life that would accommodate both raising a child and having a career. Plenty of women did that every day, so surely there was a way Carolyn could make it work, too.

  “I’m not a mom. I’m not maternal,” Carolyn said. “Ask me to whip up a seven-course meal for thirty people, and I’m in my element. But when it comes to grieving four-year-old girls, I have no idea what to do. I worry about everything—if she’s wearing a sweater, if she ate her vegetables, if she slept enough, if she’s…” She cursed. “Heading for the sandpit. Isn’t that a box full of germs?”

  “Number one, kids are resilient. Emma’s tougher than you give her credit for. They’re designed to get a little rough and tumble and dirty, and be totally okay.”

  Emma sat on the bench that ringed the sandpit. A panting Harley sat down beside her. Emma draped her arm around the Lab and gave him a big hug, the two of them with their heads together, shadowed by the dim light of dusk. If she’d been a painter, Carolyn would have captured that tender moment on canvas.

  “I just don’t want to let Sandy down,” Carolyn said. “I still have no idea how I’m going to raise Emma. In a week, I’m going back to New York, back to my job.”

  “Your mom told me you’re a chef at a fancy restaurant in Manhattan.”

  “Sous chef. Up for promotion to head chef. Which won’t happen if I can’t put in the hours the restaurant needs.” She sighed. “I don’t see how I’m going to balance it all.”

  “You’re strong and smart, Carolyn. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

  She scoffed. He had no idea the hours she worked, the days when she got to bed in the wee hours of the morning, grabbed a few hours of sleep, then started all over again. That was no way to raise a child—Emma would spend more time with nannies and babysitters than anyone else. “You have more faith than I do.”