Free Double Dog Dare (The Raine Stockton Dog Mystery Series) by Donna Ball Page A

firm as she shook my hand.
    “You’re Alex Barry’s sister,” I said, puzzled by what she was doing here.
    “Also,” she said with a faintly apologetic smile, “Miles’s ex wife.”
     
    ~*~
     

 
     
    FIVE
     
     
    M elanie put down the croissant she had been about to bite into and stared at the woman with renewed interest.  “Whoa,” she said.  “I didn’t see that coming.”
    Ditto that.
    “I was just apologizing to Rita for barging in on your breakfast,” she said while I just stood there feeling, and probably looking, like an idiot.  “I hoped to catch Miles for just a minute before he left on his run. I should have called first.”
    I was finally able to move my gaze away from her and toward Rita, who looked just as uncomfortable, and probably even more confused, than I was.  She said, “Coffee, Raine?”
    I managed to find my way to a chair at the table without tripping over my own feet, and I sat down, accepting the cup of coffee Rita passed to me.  Melanie said to Susan curiously, “So which one are you?”
    Susan responded politely, “I’m sorry?”
    “Wife,” Melanie clarified.  “Which wife?”
    “Second,” Susan replied.
    Melanie nodded sagely.  “I’m his only child.  He doesn’t talk much about the other wives.”
    Susan took a breath, and got to her feet.  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t have come.  It’s been a dreadful few days.  Tell Miles I was by, will you?  She reached into her tiny clutch purse and took out a card.  “Here’s my number.”
    Rita reached for the card uncertainly, clearly torn between curiosity, the good manners that should insist Susan join us for breakfast, and relief that she was leaving.  I had an uneasy feeling that good manners were about to win out when the day was saved by the sound of scrabbling claws on teak. A wet golden retriever bounded around the corner, tongue lolling happily, leaving a trail of damp sand and paw prints behind.  I drew a breath for another one of those magical emergency “halt!” commands before his excitement over seeing a stranger ruined Susan’s designer jeans—not to mention our breakfast—but before I could get the syllable out, Susan exclaimed, “Cocoa!”
    For a moment she looked oddly nonplussed, even disbelieving, then s he bent to greet him, arms open.  Of course Cisco galloped right to her, grinning with delight at the prospect of being showered with the affection he so richly deserved.  The next words, even though they were accompanied by affectionate pats and ear rubs, were probably not what he expected.  “Cocoa, you bad dog!  Where have you been?  Do you know how worried we were? How did you get here, anyway?”
    I stood up, scraping my chair on the deck. “Um, that’s not Cocoa,” I said.
    She looked at me as though she wanted to argue, but by this time I had discovered that Rita had also made sausages, and I commanded clearly, “Cisco, come.”
    Never in his life had that command not been followed, at some point, by a treat, so for Cisco the choice between the pleasant stranger with nice pats and the woman who held the sausage was a no -brainer.  He raced toward me and skidded to a sit with his toes touching mine.  Then, because I couldn’t resist showing off, I said simply, “Finish.” And Cisco flipped his rear quarters around in a semi-circle to sit at my left side.  I fed Cisco the sausage, piece by piece.
    Melanie grinned.  There was definitely a note of superiority in her tone as she said to Susan, “I’ll bet Cocoa can’t do that .”
    But our moment of triumph was short-lived.  Miles came around the corner then, his shoulders and short, spiky hair still gleaming with droplets of water, a towel around his neck.  He was wearing running shorts but no shoes, and I presumed he had stopped at the beach shower to rinse off before coming to greet us , sending Cisco ahead.  He stopped when he saw Susan, and the confusion on her face melted into relief