How to Heel a Wounded Heart (Must Love Dogs Book 4) Read online

  If Zandra could craft words and music like her husband did stone, she’d be Andrew Lloyd Weber.

  Stacie, the secretary, came into the showroom, smiled and said, “Hey, Zandra.”

  “Hi, Stacie. Love your top! It makes your gorgeous eyes look like sapphires.”

  Stacie grinned widely. She was really nice, and super attractive—like Barbie Doll hot—but she wasn’t the greatest secretary. On various occasions, Emmett had commented on it. Messages forgotten or mis-transcribed. People who called with questions often couldn’t get their basic questions answered unless Emmett or one of the foremen were around. And she spent as much time on social media as she did doing actual office work.

  Zandra had often wondered why he kept her around. It would be a different story if she was good at her job and super attractive—Zandra didn’t hold her drop dead gorgeousness against her—but the fact that she wasn’t very good at the job they paid her to do always made Zandra scratch her head. She hadn’t said anything to Emmett or asked about it, but he had volunteered at one point that people paying that much money on their home, expected a certain image for everyone in the company and that often started with the secretary.

  Canis Amare obviously believed in the same principle, if Cason was any indication of the other coaches.

  “Hey, is Emmett around?” asked Zandra. “Is he in a meeting, or can I grab him for a minute?” A thought came that she should have brought lunch or a snack, but she shook it off. She didn’t need an excuse to pop in and see her husband.

  All these nerves about her relationship grew heavier the longer the little things went unresolved.

  “I don’t think so,” said Stacie. “He told me he was taking off about half an hour ago.”

  “Oh,” answered Zandra, wondering if Stacie was confused or had misheard what he’d said. “Is anyone in meetings back in the consultation room?”

  “No. Door’s open. Emmett left and the guys are on installs all day. You can go take a peek if you want.”

  It was nice of Stacie to offer, even though Zandra didn’t need permission from anyone to go back to her husband’s office. She did say, “Thanks,” as she walked into the short hallway.

  Zandra pulled out her phone and opened the location app. Sure enough, Emmett was there in the office, but when she turned the corner she saw an empty chair in front of his Carrara marble desk. For the first time in that room, she didn’t feel like sprawling out on the desk and rubbing her hands along its luxuriousness; she was too perplexed.

  It didn’t make any sense. According to the app they were standing right next to each other.

  Hey, Studly, she texted. You in the workshop creating another unbelievable piece of art?

  Seconds after she sent it, something in the desk drawer buzzed.

  The bottom fell out of Zandra’s stomach.

  3

  Zandra felt like she was going to throw up.

  “Options,” she told herself quietly.

  In the past she’d had problems acting too impulsively at times, and grown to regret some of her rapid-fire choices. So, she’d learned to take two seconds and consider choices before jumping in.

  “Okay, I could … take the dogs to the dog park, act like this never happened. I could sit here and stare at his empty chair until he shows up so I can ask what’s up. I could get his freaking phone and find out where the hay he is!” Her voice was still quiet, but sharp with emotion.

  As frequently happened, the third option was the most appealing.

  Zandra forced herself to move in a controlled manner around the desk to pull out his phone. She entered the passcode 000317—their wedding date—and saw a notification of one message. Hers.

  In the messages section, the next message down was from a number with no name attached to it. There was only one text in the thread, an incoming text: Hey, your guys just finished. Come on over and try out these countertops.

  Zandra had no idea who it was from but as soon as she read it a dark weight settled onto her shoulders. A quick look up at the fluorescents told her the room hadn’t actually lost light. She didn’t spend a lot of time reading his other texts, but on the surface they all seemed on the up and up and maybe the one that settled on her was too. But he had lied about being in the office for hours, and he had left his phone behind, which he never did.

  “Options,” said Zandra in a forceful, flat tone, trying to keep her emotions from blowing up all potential for rational thought. “I could go home and eat Häagen-Dazs and cry. I could go home, pile all his stuff on the driveway, light it on fire, and cook marshmallows.” That was probably too rash. Probably. Considering that she hadn’t even given him a chance to explain himself yet.

  “I could find him, talk to him, and fix things.” That one seemed like the best choice.

  “Hey, Stacie,” said Zandra, poking her head into the reception area. “Looks like my husband left his cell phone. He said something about looking at the install the guys were on this morning. Can you tell me where that’s at?”

  “Oh, yeah, let me see.” Stacie pulled her glasses down and went a little cross-eyed looking at the screen. “Oops, that’s the wrong program. Okay, let me get to calendar. Where did the calendar go now? Okay, here it is! Looks like they were at 1441 Mountainside.”

  “Thanks, Stacie. If you see him … tell him I have his phone.” Zandra held it up and showed it to Stacie.

  If Emmett did make it back to the office before she tracked him down, she wanted him to sweat. If there was anything to sweat about, of course.

  Maybe I’m being too suspicious. Then again, maybe not. Why had that gentle whisper come and poked her until she listened to it this morning?

  Zandra could not stand being lied to. She hoped, and prayed, that there was a simple explanation. The sooner she found him, and found out, the sooner she could find peace.

  4

  Zandra drove with white knuckles along the route her phone gave her.

  The entryways before even reaching the front door of most of the houses had to cost more than the Flint, Michigan home she had grown up in. With school work ramping up her final semester, it had been a while since she’d been out to see any of his jobs. She knew he was doing high-end stuff, but it still boggled the mind to see actual mansions like these places.

  Their own home and acreage was worth nearly a million dollars—a million dollars! she repeated to herself—but these made it look like a starter home.

  Addresses along Mountainside came and went and her breathing increased its rate as she got closer until finally seeing 1441 on a massive brick mailbox. No sign of Emmett’s truck on the street or in the driveway.

  Zandra breathed a heavy sigh of relief and drove up to the end of the cul de sac.

  There were a million explanations. She just needed to find Emmett and let him explain. At least his car wasn’t parked in another woman’s driveway. Just the thought of it made Zandra burn with anger. And a little bit of sadness, and a little bit of inexplicable shame. If there was something scandalous going on, what had she done to deserve it?

  Knock it off, Z. That was good advice. She should go home and have that Häagen-Dazs and catch up with him later. His truck was not parked in someone else’s driveway.

  A more sinister thought occurred to her and Zandra zipped over to the curb to park in front of the next-door neighbors.

  “Keep it quiet for just a minute,” she told the dogs, then walked up the driveway and to the garage doors of the address Stacie had given her. The garage windows were too high to see into, so Zandra went around to the side and saw a people-sized door. She opened the door, which was unlocked, and peeked inside.

  Emmett’s truck.

  “Son of a mother’s son,” muttered Zandra. It was too much.

  In. the. garage.

  Zandra stared at the truck, as if looking at it hard enough would make it disappear and make it reappear out on the driveway, or in her own garage.

  A rough growl escaped her throat and
her fists clenched until they hurt. She was completely incapable of explaining the emotions she was feeling. Anger, that was the fuel. Disbelief accounted for the bulk of it. And hurting—raw like a hundred of Fiyero’s wounds, but not on her leg—in her core. And a little bit of something else. Hope, that was it. Hope that she might be all wrong. That there was a perfectly good explanation.

  She had married a good man. She was a good wife. Things like this did not happen to people who loved each other and cared for their marriage, at least not in her 23 years of life experience.

  Things hadn’t changed that much between them, had they? Well they certainly weren’t the same, or Zandra wouldn’t be feeling like this.

  Zandra stepped into the garage, walked between Emmett’s truck and a Jaguar, and up to the door that led into the house. Slowly, quietly, she tried the door. Locked.

  “Okay.” A breath. “Options. I could ring the doorbell. I could sit outside in the driveway and wait for him to come out. I could …” she glanced around the garage and her eyes fell on a sledgehammer in the corner next to some shovels and rakes. The handle was almost as long as her leg, made out of rough plastic, and the head was big heavy metal. Oh yes, option three this time was a sledgehammer. Zandra picked it up.

  “We have a winner.”

  5

  “Options,” said Zandra, drumming her fingers on the handle of the sledgehammer and scanning the garage. The hood ornament on the Jaguar was practically teed up just waiting for her to swing. She could probably send it straight through the wall if she caught it just right.

  “Or, I could show Emmett what I think of his truck being parked in someone else’s garage.” He loved that truck. Three years ago he had splurged on it way before they could afford it. She kept expecting him to trade it in once he started making real money. Option two might just win this time.

  “Option three.” As her eyes went side to side Zandra didn’t see any other good options. Then her eyes went up and caught a sprinkler head right above her. She smiled an evil grin. Then swung.

  Just shy. She’d have to grip the end of the handle and give it all the reach she could. She swung again, this time on her tiptoes, and connected with the metal spout sticking out of the ceiling. Water drenched her immediately, coming out like a dozen garden hoses. Inside the house an alarm blared. Zandra hit the button to open the garage door and walked out to get a view of the garage and the front door.

  After less than a second, the door from the house to the garage flew open and Emmett burst out, frantically pulling his shirt over his tan, muscular chest. Zandra tried to tighten her grip on the sledgehammer, but luckily she’d left it behind when the drenching started.

  Behind Emmett, a woman in a miniskirt, spaghetti-strap top, and a ridiculous amount of makeup including false eyelashes skulked behind him, using him as a shield, like he could protect her from the water coming from overhead.

  With the deluge coming from above, Emmett didn’t notice Zandra standing in the driveway. Not at first. When he cleared the garage and turned away from the spewing sprinkler head, he saw her. His fingers froze on the button they were working on, his eyes froze in the headlights of her glare and his jaw dropped just enough to look guilty.

  “What, in the name of everything, were you doing in there?”

  “Zandra, it’s not what it looks like.”

  Could his objection be more trite?

  “Well what is it, Emmett!”

  In their four years of marriage they never really fought and the heat in her voice was surprising, and soooo appropriate.

  “The guys finished installing this morning. I just came over to inspect the work.” Before she could ask about his shirt, he explained, “Dawn bought a cheesecake and offered me a slice at the new deluxe bar of the counter. I spilled raspberry on my shirt, took it off, and rinsed it out. Then all of a sudden alarms are blaring, sprinklers are activated, and you’re here.”

  Zandra marched the three feet over to him. The other woman was still standing partially behind him, still using him as a shield. Dawn obviously realized she was safer there.

  Who was Zandra kidding? She didn’t have a violent bone in her body. It would be all Zandra could do to keep from complimenting the girl on her incredible long legs in that miniskirt.

  “Zandra, I—”

  Attention back on Emmett. “This is what is going to happen.” She counted off on her fingers. “You are going to get in your truck and drive it home. You are going to tell me everything that happened, and no more lies or so help me. We, the two of us, together are going to fix whatever is wrong. Whatever it takes, we are going to get back on the right track.” Zandra turned to the other woman, who was stunning, despite being so overdone. She resisted the urge to tell her how freaking beautiful her hair was even when it was soaked and how perfect her cheekbones were. “And you. You and your phony eyelashes are never going to see my husband again.”

  Dawn sneered and her lovely face became sharp and vicious.

  Zandra turned away and marched to her Avalanche with hands clenched in fists at her sides.

  6

  Zandra parked her car alongside Emmett’s work stuff, gripping the steering wheel almost hard enough to crush it in her fingers. Why the garage thing was such a big deal to her, she didn't know for sure but she understood now the meaning of being so mad that her blood boiled.

  "We are going to fix this." She pushed open the door and stumbled blindly to the back to drop the tailgate.

  Elfie hopped down but Fiyero came over and stuck his soggy jowls into Zandra’s face.

  "Oh, hi, Fiyero!" She ruffled his ample cheeks for a few seconds then pulled him to the edge and helped to lower him to the ground. It had only been the last couple of weeks that he’d needed help getting in and out of the truck.

  No sign of Emmett in the driveway. She didn't want to go inside and be all cooped up for the conversation that was coming, so she led the dogs to the front yard and plopped down on the grass beneath the huge oak tree in the center of their yard.

  Fiyero went to water the bushes briefly, then plopped himself down alongside Zandra while Elfie sniffed the entire front yard to see if anything had changed since she'd done her inspection earlier that morning. Fiyero automatically began licking the wound on his front ankle, so Zandra distracted him with some good petting. She wasn’t imagining it, that wound was worse than it had been.

  How did this happen? Wasn't Zandra a good wife and a good woman? She took care of the house – cleaned it, did laundry, even worked in the yard keeping everything looking nice. The meals she cooked for Emmett and herself weren't always her favorite but they were what Emmett loved for the most part. There was no problem in the bedroom, as far as she knew. No couple was 100% compatible, right? Emmett’s appetites and tastes in that department were sometimes a little bit more out there than what Zandra would choose, but she thought they had it figured out and had a pretty darn good compromise going.

  Sure, there wasn't as much cuddling and kissing as there had been early on, but that had to happen to every couple. Emmett did seem to get bored with kissing if things didn't escalate quickly enough, but wasn't that the difference between men and women?

  Elfie, content with her scan of the yard, came and sat on the grass near Zandra. She didn't slump down and surrender to the day like Fiyero had. She never really did. It was as if she had to keep an eye on things, just to make sure everything was safe and, Zandra tried to put a name on it – organized? Even now she looked around with her head high in the air, eyes going to her son, who appeared to have fallen asleep again, as often as they went anywhere else.

  Like the sheepdogs in the cartoons but with a much sleeker coat and regal bearing, she was the sentinel and she took her job seriously.

  "Relax." Zandra's voice must not have been very convincing because Elfie pushed herself up to do a lap around Zandra and sniff Fiyero like a mother who was checking to see if a diaper needed to be changed. Zandra couldn't fault her for her stress
today; she had to be picking up on some of what Zandra was feeling.

  If Emmett took much longer to get home, she'd have to come up with some options that didn't include sitting here and waiting for him.

  No sooner had the thought made it through her mind than Emmett’s tires on the gravel of their driveway reached her ears. Both dogs’ ears perked up but they obviously recognized the tune of his tires and the hum of his diesel because neither of them chuffed like they did when any other car encroached on their driveway.

  "Don't worry, pups. Things are going to get better. Watch this, I suspect you're going to see a human looking like a beaten dog in just a sec."

  Emmett positioned his truck in the accustomed spot just outside of the garage. After a very loaded pause, the door flew open and Emmett popped out of the truck. His head was high and his shoulders and back were straight as he walked over to Zandra and the dogs. Man, he was good-looking, with his dark hair, dark eyes, two-day stubble and designer work clothes that fit him oh so nice.

  Maybe the stubble was the problem. She couldn’t take the sandpaper kisses for nearly as long as she’d like. A clean shave would be a good place to start, after they got through this talk.

  There was no beaten dog to his walk as Zandra had expected and she got the feeling there was more work ahead of her than she'd thought.

  7

  Zandra watched her husband walking confidently toward her and the dogs. Fiyero pushed himself up to a sitting position and Elfie woofed quietly at her son. Zandra didn't understand everything that passed between the dogs, she just knew that even three years after he'd been born, Elfie still watched out for her baby every single day.

  Emmett came to a stop in front of her and looked down, still not speaking. Zandra wasn't about to stand up or even start the dialogue: let him come to her. A few seconds later Emmett sat facing her on the grass. Both dogs went to say hi to him and Emmett pulled both of them in and took his slobber bath like a man. Before work, getting all slimy wasn’t his favorite thing, same for middle of the day on most days. He reserved doggie affection like this for the end of the day. Maybe he was home for the day at this point.