Free The Lucky Dog Matchmaking Service by Beth Kendrick Page A

problems.”
    “Is this about paying for Linus’s surgery? Because all his blood work came back negative and Jason said—”
    Evan shook his head. “The phone’s been ringing off the hook with people asking about ‘the dog matchmaker.’ When I got home from work, we had six voice mails.”
    “What the hell?” Lara really started to get annoyed. “The TV station gave out the Web site for the rescue group. How is everyone tracking down my personal contact information?”
    “There’s no such thing as privacy in the digital age.”
    Lara kicked off her flip-flops and tried to look on the bright side. “Well, it’s pretty pushy to call me at home, but I’m glad people are interested in adopting the dogs.”
    Evan’s laugh was hollow. “No, no, they don’t want to adopt—they want to dump the dogs they already have. I got home half an hour ago, and I’ve already fielded requests from random strangers wanting to unload a neurotic Anatolian shepherd, a dog-aggressive Pembroke Welsh corgi, and a litter of pit bull puppies. They want you to use your matchmaking magic to re-home everyone.”
    “Did you tell them we can’t take any more in right now?”
    “Yeah, and then they started with the guilt trips: ‘Well, if you can’t take them, then I’ll have no choice but to take them to the shelter.’”
    “So what did you say to that?”
    Evan shrugged. “I said that there was a good chance their dogs would get euthanized at the pound, but they have to do what they have to do.”
    “Evan!”
    “What?” He crossed his arms. “ They called me . I’m under no obligation to make them feel good about their crappy choices. Someone has to be the hard-ass.”
    Lara sighed. “Better you than me.”
    “Exactly. That’s why you’re not allowed to answer the phone for the next few days.”
    “Probably for the best.” She put down her work bag and opened the refrigerator to forage for dinner ideas.
    The phone rang.
    Evan and Lara exchanged a look of mock horror, clutching each other’s forearms as the dogs ran in figure eights around their knees.
    “It’s them ,” Evan whispered. “We’re under siege.”
    Lara laughed, but as the phone rang a second time, and a third, her resolve wavered.
    He sensed her uncertainty and gave her a squeeze. “Don’t do it.” He reached over and switched off the ringer.
    She knew he was right—there was no way they could take in every owner surrender in Phoenix, and in a few days the publicity would blow over—but she still felt bad about it. The dogs didn’t have the luxury of turning off a phone and ignoring everything. The dogs would end up . . . where?
    “Don’t think about it,” Evan commanded. “We’re going to go get pizza at the place you love on Greenway. And when we get home, we’ll take everyone for a nice long walk by the lake.”
    “You’ll come, too?” Lara pressed. Evan usually preferred to stay home and sack out on the sofa while she exercised the dogs.
    “I’ll come, too,” he promised. “And tomorrow morning I’ll call the phone company and change our number.”
    * * *
    Early the next morning, Lara awoke to the sound of Raggs and Zsa Zsa whining as they ran laps between the bedroom door and the window next to the bed. They usually did this when the garbage truck rumbled down the alley, but today wasn’t trash day.
    She raised her head, squinted at the clock, and gave Raggs a reassuring pat on the head. “What’s up, buddy?”
    The little spotted spaniel whined louder, placed his front paws up on the windowsill, and rattled the white wooden blinds with his nose.
    “This better be good.” Lara rolled out of bed, opened the blinds, and peered out into the backyard. A little squeak of dismay escaped her lips. “Oh no.”
    Evan sat up. “What’s wrong?”
    “There’s a litter of pit bull puppies in our backyard.”
    * * *
    “They look like they’re about eight weeks old.” Lara inspected the trio of wriggly black-and-white puppies