“Alexandra Mae, get in the house.”
“Uh-oh,” Lexie said, then tucked her dog, ducked her head, and ran past her mother.
John moved to follow, but Georgeanne blocked his way. “I have told that child for five years now that she can’t have a pet until she is ten. You take her out for a few hours and she comes home with a hairless dawg.”
He raised his right hand. “I know, and I’m sorry. I promise I’ll buy all his food, and Lexie and I will take him to all of his puppy obedience classes.”
“I can pay for his darn food!” Georgeanne raised her palms and pressed her fingers to her brows. She felt as if her head were about to explode. “I’m so angry I can’t see straight.”
“Would it help if I told you that I bought a puppy book for you to read?”
“No, John,” she sighed, and dropped her hands. “It wouldn’t help.”
“I have a little kennel, too.” He took ahold of her wrist and pulled her after him. “I bought a bunch of stuff for him.”
Georgeanne tried to ignore the leap in her pulse as he towed her along. “What kind of stuff?”
He opened the back passenger door to the Range Rover and handed her a dog crate about the size of a deep dresser drawer.
“He’s supposed to stay in that at night so he doesn’t crap on the floor,” he told her, then reached inside the vehicle again. “Here’s a book on training, another on Chihuahuas, and one more”-he paused to read the title-“How to Raise a Dog You Can Live With. I have food, biscuits for his teeth, chew toys, a collar and leash, and a little sweater.”
“Sweater? Did you buy everything in the store?”
“Close.” He turned and ducked his head into the car.
Over the top of the kennel, Georgeanne glanced at John’s rear pockets pointed in her direction. His jeans were faded a light blue in places, and a woven leather belt was threaded though the loops.
“I know it’s here somewhere,” he said, and she quickly switched her gaze to the back of the four-wheel-drive vehicle. It was filled with huge toy-store bags and a big box labeled Ultimate Hockey.
“What’s all that?” she asked, motioning toward the back with her head.
John looked over his shoulder at her. “Just some things Lexie picked out. I don’t have anything for her to do when she comes over to my house, so we bought a few things. I can’t believe how much Barbies cost. I had no idea they were sixty dollars apiece.” He straightened and handed her a tube. “That’s Pongo’s toothpaste.”
Georgeanne was appalled. “You paid sixty dollars for a Barbie?”
He shrugged. “Well, when you figure that one came with a poodle, the other with a zebra-print jacket and matching beret, I don’t think I got soaked too badly.”
He’d been suckered. Within days of ripping open the box, Lexie would have those dolls naked and looking like she’d picked them up at a garage sale. Georgeanne rarely bought Lexie expensive toys. Her daughter didn’t treat them any better than she did her things that were less costly, but mostly, there were a lot of months when Georgeanne couldn’t afford to drop one hundred twenty dollars on two dolls.
She had a tendency to go a little crazy and spend a lot at Christmas and on birthdays, but she had to budget and set money aside for those occasions. John didn’t. Last month, as their lawyers had hammered out a custody agreement, she’d learned that he made six million a year playing hockey, plus half that much through investments and endorsements. She could never compete with that.
She looked into his smiling face and wondered what he was up to. If she wasn’t careful, he would take everything and leave her with nothing but that hairless dog.
Chapter Seventeen
“Did you want your latte skinny or mocha?”
Georgeanne asked Mae as she packed the metal filter with espresso.
“Skinny,” Mae answered without taking her attention from Pongo, who lay curled up crunching on a doggie biscuit. “Damn, that’s pathetic. My cat is bigger than your dog. Bootsie could kick his butt.”
“Lexie,” Georgeanne called out, “Mae is saying bad things about Pongo again.”
Lexie walked into the kitchen, shoving her arms through the sleeves of her raincoat. “Don’t say bad things about my dog.” She scowled and grabbed her backpack from the table. “He’s sensitive.” She dropped down on her knees and pushed her face next to the dog’s. “I have to go to school now, I’ll see you later.” The puppy stopped eating his biscuit long enough to lick Lexie’s mouth.
“Hey now, I’ve told you about that,” Georgeanne scolded as she took a carton of skim milk from the refrigerator. “He has bad habits.”
Lexie shrugged and stood. “I don’t care. I love him.”
“Well, I care. Now, you better get over to Amy’s or you’ll miss your ride.”
Lexie puckered her lips for a kiss good-bye.
Georgeanne shook her head and walked Lexie to the front door. “I don’t kiss girls who kiss dawgs who lick themselves.” From the entrance she watched Lexie cross the street, then she turned back to the kitchen. “She’s absolutely nuts about that puppy,” she told Mae as she headed toward the espresso machine. “She’s had him five days, and he’s taken over our lives. You should see the little denim vest she’s made for him.”
“I have something to tell you,” Mae blurted quickly.
Georgeanne looked over her shoulder at her friend. She’d suspected something was up with Mae. She usually didn’t come by so early for coffee, and she’d been acting a little distant for the past few days. “What is it?”
“I love Hugh.”
Georgeanne smiled and filled the espresso machine with two cups of water. “I love you, too.”
“No.” Mae shook her head. “You don’t understand. I love Hugh, the goalie.”
“What?” Her hands stilled and her brows lowered. “John’s friend?”
“Yes.”
Georgeanne set down the glass carafe but forgot to turn on the machine. “I thought you hated him.”
“I did, but I don’t now.”
“What happened?”
Mae looked as perplexed as Georgeanne felt. “I don’t know! He took me home from a club last Friday night, and he never left.”
“He’s been living with you for the past six days?” Georgeanne walked over to the kitchen table. She had to sit down.
“Well, for the past six nights mostly.”
“Is this a joke?”
“No, but I understand how you might think so. I don’t know how it happened. One minute I was telling him that he couldn’t come into my house, and then before I really realized what had happened, we were both naked and fighting over who got to be on top. He won and I fell in love with him.”
Georgeanne was numb with shock. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. He was on top.”
“I didn’t mean that!” If there was one thing that Georgeanne wished she could change about her relationship with Mae, it was Mae’s tendency to share details Georgeanne didn’t care to know. “Are you sure you’re in love with him?”
Mae nodded, and for the first time in their seven-year friendship, Georgeanne watched tears well up in her brown eyes. Mae was always so strong, it broke Georgeanne’s heart to see her cry. “Oh, honey,” she sighed, and moved to kneel by Mae’s chair. “I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around her friend and tried to comfort her. “Men are such jerks.”
“I know,” Mae sobbed. “Everything was wonderful, and then he had to do this.”