“No, thank you. The best owners are the ones who care about their pets as much as we do. I can tell your boy was loved.”
“Oh, yes! He was the sweetest tabby—just a stray, you know. My gardener couldn’t keep him away, and one day I told him to just let the poor thing in for some water. I was so miserable, moping around after my youngest went east for college. That’s the way it is with cats, isn’t it? They come when they’re called—just not with words.” Her smile trembles. “My name’s Sandra Hageman, but call me Sandy, dear.”
“Lena.”
“A pleasure. Even more because you’ve won over the most creative member of the Pruitt clan.” She beams at me, and I nod before she looks at my father. “Alec, I’m still surprised. You and Kerrigan never mentioned your son being involved with this lovely creature.”
Dad coughs into his hand and inhales, his lungs giving that harsh rattle that’s become too familiar. He waves his hand at Freddy behind him, declining the oxygen the nurse always has ready.
When he looks at us again, I’m expecting daggers in his eyes, but he just looks oddly relaxed.
“That’s the way it is with our Brady. Always surprising us. Sandra, if we knew, you never would’ve had a minute’s rest from my wife with the wedding planning.” He clears his throat again. “My sincerest condolences on your cat. Was he old?”
What. The. Hell.
My old man has never so much as acknowledged pets exist unless they’re in his personal space, like Charlie.
Maybe it’s the environment getting to him. He hasn’t been to an event this big for over a year, and I wonder if it shakes something loose in his miserable brain.
There’s no denying Lena looks like a damn knockout.
Chestnut hair swept up in a loose updo, tendrils framing her face. Minimal makeup, the classy touch pretty women carry when they’re trying to accent their natural beauty without pinning on a whole new face.
Another contrast with Nancy Loomer and most of the women I’ve dated before.
I watched in awe this morning as she was getting ready and she only used about ten cosmetic products. It would’ve been thirty with other women.
With a little color on her lips and winged eyeliner, plus the barest hint of smoky eye, she looks as good as every other woman in here.
Better, because she’s authentic.
My attention flicks back to Dad as Sandra wanders away after a few more quiet words with him.
“You can take the lady out of the vet,” he says, “but apparently, you can’t take the vet out of the lady.”
“What’s your point, Dad?” I growl.
“Her timing, that’s what. She just helped us impress the heiress to the largest grocery chain in this quadrant of the country just as our contracts are coming up for renegotiation. The damn cat, I never would’ve thought of that,” he mutters, barely under his breath.
I want to roll my eyes and say something shitty. God forbid he have a beating heart.
Yet the way he smiles at Lena and nods tells me the ice is broken.
Mission accomplished, I guess, even if it had to happen in the most annoying, selfish way possible.
“Um, glad I could help?” Lena smiles uncertainly.
I squeeze her hand firmly. She might not know it yet, but she’s done the impossible.
“Hey, there’s Brian Millstable! He finished buying up every midsize chain pet store last year. I should introduce you,” I say, naming one of the most influential people in the Seattle business world—at least when it comes to the wildlife side of things, with the large nonprofit he owns. “Catch you later, Dad.”
Lena smiles, looking like an old-fashioned debutante.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Pruitt,” she says, holding out her hand again.
“Alec.” Dad shakes it with a ghost of a smile.
For once, what the hell does his selfishness matter?
