Home Is Where Your Bark Is

Chapter 9

As the dog dashed from spot to spot in Jenna’s backyard, sniffing along the fence line and swishing his bushy tail, Jake trailed after him. After they’d entered through a locked gate in the alley, Jenna headed inside through a back patio door to change clothes, disappearing up a flight of stairs that led to her apartment.

The yard was a good size for the area, maybe a third of an acre. Most of it was covered with winter-dormant grass, and there were just enough bare patches that, after last night’s rain, he was glad he’d put down the thick utility blanket to protect Sheila’s back seat on the ride home. As it was only March 1st, the surrounding garden and landscaping beds were predominantly bare or had been cut back from last year’s growth.

A quaint gardener’s shed stood in the corner, and Jake headed over. Judging by the thick width of the wooden board siding, it was nearly as old as the house. While the boards had likely been painted over a handful of times, they were currently a fresh shade of light moss and were lined by single-pane windows with off-white trim. Jake figured the windows were original too. No one bought single panes any longer.

The storm door at the front stood out in its newness. The top half was glass, and Jake walked up for a better look. A variety of house plants of all sizes lined shelves with grow lights hanging over the top. He recognized a few—African violets, aloe, and jade—but the rest were simply plants to him. Additional light streamed in through a solar window that had been cut into the peaked roof at one point. The shed was no bigger than eight by eight, but it was tidy and quaint, and a radiator lined the far floor, no doubt keeping the plants alive during Chicago winters.

Jake spotted a variety of empty painted pots stacked on one of the lowest shelves. Below that, lining the floor were long, sturdy benches with circular holes of varying sizes drilled along their length. They’d been designed for transport, no doubt. Jake thought of the older-model Tacoma Jenna had been driving and suspected they’d fit perfectly into the back—or would’ve. There was zero doubt in his mind that the truck had been totaled.

This was what Jenna did? Suddenly, he was in his Jeep next to her in the rain again at the light, watching her try not to cry and wanting to know more about her. He never would’ve guessed this.

“I brought a key to show you the inside, if you’d like.”

As he looked over, Jake clamped his jaw tight to lock down an expression of surprise, one that likely still lit his eyes. In the couple of minutes she’d been gone, Jenna had slipped on a pair of jeans that hugged her hips and thighs and a clingy gray V-neck sweater that accented her curves and breasts and brought out her remarkable blue-green eyes. She’d brought out a jacket, too, but had laid it over a chair before walking over to join him.

He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, but strangers didn’t do that anymore.

“This is what you do?” he asked with a nod toward the door.

“It is, though I can’t say I started out intending to do it,” she said with a shrug. “I wanted a dog but was having a terrible time keeping a plant alive, so the quest began. It’s just sort of evolved the last couple of years, and it’s been fun.”

“It’s awesome. Orders of magnitude better than boozy cakes.” He liked it when what he said made her smile or laugh, liked the way it lit her eyes too.

A smile lingered on her lips. “The last couple of minutes of the drive when you still hadn’t guessed, I thought it might be fun to tell you grow lights were involved, figuring you’d think I was growing the only thing most people are using grow lights for nowadays.”

“You’d have been right at that.”

She slipped off a coil wristband that held a single key and stepped around him to unlock the door. Jake caught a hint of something spa-like as she passed and resisted the temptation to lean in to better define it. She’d brushed through her thick, wavy hair while inside too. Aside from a hint of dark circles under her eyes and the crescent-moon-shaped stitching just visible at times arching from her temple, she looked no worse for wear from last night.

“Actually, that’s what the last tenant used this place for. He was in the apartment across from me when I moved in four years ago. Not too long after I got here, he moved to Oregon to grow it for a career. He left a mess in here, and if you know anything about growing weed, it’s that it smells. At the time, I was still mostly just figuring out how to keep a houseplant healthy, and I wanted to get into gardening.” She shrugged. “It’s evolved into this.”

Jenna pulled open the door and waved him in. Jake did a quick scan of the yard for the dog first. He was standing at the edge of the patio near where Jenna had placed her coat, watching them, head cocked. “Good boy, Seven.” The slightest flick of his tail told Jake he was listening.

“Seven?” Jenna asked as she stepped in behind him.

“Yeah, I meant to tell you that earlier. I don’t know how much of our conversation last night you remember given that bump on the head you got.”

“Bits and pieces only.”

“I figured.” Judging by the blush warming her cheeks, Jake suspected that one of those bits and pieces was the unexpected intimacy of that shared wait for the ambulance. “At one point, we were talking about him, and you couldn’t remember his name. From what you said, your sister’s family had been trying out different names, like six or seven of them, you said. Then this morning, I found out he’s been dropped six times at shelters already.”

Her jaw dropped. “Six! Oh, poor guy. That explains so much.”

“I bet. Had I left him there today, it would’ve been drop-off number seven. Felt a bit like serendipity since all night last night I called him Number Seven. This morning, I’ve been sticking with just Seven, and I think it works. Assuming there’s no objection to that from you or your sister.”

“You’re the one taking him in. You get to call him whatever you’d like.” She fell quiet a second. “Seven. I like it. It fits him a lot better than the Thomas the Tank Engine names my nephews were trying to stick him with.”

Jake chuckled. “The thing I need to remember is that I’m only fostering. Like you, I’m busy with work, and I have to travel here and there. I’d hate to leave a dog alone that much. Taking him on for a couple months and hopefully helping calm him down a bit seems like the project I’ve been wanting.” He jutted his thumb toward the plants. “Nothing like this, but it’s a start.”

Jenna brushed her fingers over his arm for the quickest second. “Yeah, it is.”

It seemed they both became aware of the small, enclosed space they were sharing at the same time. It was warm and bright in here and smelled of the earth, but it was also completely shut off from the busyness of the Logan Square neighborhood, and their two bodies took up most of the space not taken up by plants. Jenna stepped back and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, but doing so made her wince.

He reached out but was quick to pull his hand back. Less than twelve hours ago, he’d been in a committed relationship with someone entirely different. If he had one hard-and-fast rule, it was taking enough of a breather between relationships, no matter how long he’d been considering getting out of the last one. Maybe romance was off the table with her, but it didn’t stop him from caring. “You hurting much?”

“Not too bad. The stitches only hurt when I forget and touch my hair. My head’s a little worse. Bright lights, the sun, even the dancing shadows from the trees on the way here—it’s a lot to process. Those sunglasses you lent me really helped.”

“I bet, and if you’ve had enough conversation, I can head out. You don’t want to overdo it.”

“I’m okay for now. The pain meds they have me on should last another hour or so, then I’ll close every blind I have and bury myself under the covers for a bit,” she said with a smile.

Because he was too drawn in by that smile of hers, he turned back to the plants. “So, you buy wholesale, then resell them or grow them from seeds or what?”

“Both, depending on the plant. Some are easier to start from seeds or cuttings than others.”

He sank onto his heels in front of the lower shelf of terra-cotta pots and picked up a brightly painted one. It was a stunning mandala of teals and oranges painted into the shape of a flower. Other mandala-painted pots had animal or whimsical shapes. Some pots were simpler in design, a variety of bright dots or crisp, wavy lines. A few had sayings instead of pictures. He smiled at one that read “Breathe, Release, Reciprocate.” Perfect phrase for a potted plant. “What about these? Where do you get them? They’re great.”

“That’s the other half of it. I paint them.”

“You painted these?” he asked, standing up with the one in his hand. “Then you are an artist! They’re incredible.” At one point on the ride here, he’d thrown the label out there, but then he’d glanced over and noticed how she was keeping her eyes closed because of the brightness of the day and fished out Sheila’s spare sunglasses from the console for her.

“I paint terra-cotta pots mostly from pictures I find online.” His answering look must’ve said “So what?” because she was quick to add, “I majored in premed and haven’t had an art class since high school. I’m hardly an artist.”

“You really aren’t about to tell me that it’s the class that makes the artist, are you? Certainly, history proves otherwise.”

“That’s different,” she said with a wave of her hand.

Jake pulled back from debating with her, given her concussion. “Then we’ll agree to disagree. So, you match the plants with pots and sell them where?”

“In season, at the farmers market off Milwaukee or at pop-up craft fairs and events. Offseason, through Instagram when I can, though that’s hard because I can’t ship the plants, but I do sell a decent number of pots that way.”

“I’m not surprised.” He set the pot down on the shelf, careful not to bump it against any others. “I’m impressed though. Very. Mind if I ask if you’re running this as an LLC or as a sole proprietorship?”

“That’s a little out of left field, but a sole proprietorship. Why?”

“Sorry. That’s the lawyer in me.” When her eyebrows lifted in surprise, he added, “Not the type of lawyer whose face you’re going to see on billboards and at bus stops. I’m in corporate law. Patents actually. And as to why I asked, that’s a conversation for another day, assuming you’d like to have it, and believe me, I wouldn’t be trying to sell you anything.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. But you being a lawyer, I can see that.”

“How so?”

“Well, you’re pretty to the point for starters.” She laughed at something in his expression. “In a good way.”

“I’m not sure my ex-girlfriend would agree with that last bit, but with what I do for a living, I’ve made a habit of getting to the point. I’m not surprised that it spills over into my personal life.”

When a short silence fell between them, Jenna glanced toward the door. “We should probably check on Seven before he digs a zillion holes.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

When they stepped out, Seven was still in the same spot on the patio, but he was stretched out on the stone, licking his jowls. They both spotted Jenna’s jacket at the same time. It was on the ground, and part of it was locked under his front paws.

“Any chance you had food in one of those jacket pockets?”

Seven jumped to his feet, hackles raising, and dashed off to the far side of the yard.

Jenna made a face. “Now that I think about it, yeah.”

As she hung back long enough to lock the storm door, Jake jogged over and picked the fleece jacket off the ground. One front pocket had been turned inside out, but other than that and a half-dozen muddy paw prints, it was unharmed. “He didn’t eat through the material, at least.”

“I wouldn’t have lost sleep over it if he had. It’s what I wear while I’m out here,” she said, joining him. “The last thing I remember putting in one of the pockets are the treats from when he was running around out here in the snow, and we couldn’t catch him for anything. I guess there were still a couple in there.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “And he helped himself.”

“That’s him for you. He’s a counter surfer too. I’ve heard border collies manage their weight well, but he’s all stomach and pent-up energy, that one.”

He offered the jacket her way, and their fingers brushed. A jolt shot through Jake, one he didn’t want to acknowledge. “Looks like other than needing to be laundered, no harm was done.”

“Well, after last night, I have the perfect heavy-soil load to add to it. And he’s quick like that. Training opportunities are there and gone before you can blink.”

On the far side of the yard, Seven was watching intently. When Jake looked his way, the dog dipped his head. “Looks like he realizes he did something he shouldn’t have, at least. But yeah, I noticed that about training opportunities last night when he gnawed my table during the ten minutes I was in the shower.”

Jenna clicked her tongue. “Sometimes it’s like he’s casing us.”

“I hope that calculating mind of his will work in my favor eventually, but maybe that’s pie-in-the-sky hope.” Jake shoved his hands in his pockets. “I should go. Let you rest. Once you confirm it with your landlord, so long as your offer stands for me to use the yard, I’d appreciate it. It’s perfect for what I’ll be doing with him.”

“Of course. You’re doing a good thing for a good dog. I meant it when I said I’d like to help however I can, use of the yard included.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “I fully expect to take you up on it.” He glanced over at Seven who was still observing them with a cautious air that made Jake wonder if he was braced for a beating and not yet aware that was something Jake would never give.

“Want me to run up and get a hunk of cheese or something to help you catch him? He loves cheese, and he isn’t caught easily, especially when he’s on the defensive like this.”

Jake shook his head. “Nah, if you don’t mind, I’ll wait him out for a bit. Let him come to me when he’s ready. I’ll lock the gate when I step out.”

“Sure. Take as long as you need. I’ll head upstairs.” Her expression seemed to fall the tiniest bit, and he could only guess that maybe she didn’t want this to end either.

“Thanks, Jenna. Rest well, and text me later. Let me know how you’re doing.”

“I will. Once I get my phone back from my sister, that is.” She held out a hand, and he had no choice but to take it. As soon as his hand closed over hers, the feeling of intimacy he’d experienced last night flooded in—just as he expected—and he didn’t want to let go. Maybe she’d been looking for a handshake, but they stood there unmoving, hands grasped, as one second slipped into the next, and Jake contemplated the complete inadequacy of words, even to a man who relied on them for a living.

He was the first to break the connection, letting go and shoving his hand back into his pocket. She headed inside, and the door fell shut behind her. He listened, unmoving, as she headed up the steps until her footsteps became inaudible.

Swallowing hard, Jake turned to Seven, who was still watching him intently, and made an obvious show of picking up the leash and walking out into the center of the yard. There, he sank into a squat and waited, leash clip in plain sight. “Come on, Seven, time to go home.”

***

Jenna closed her apartment door behind her and leaned against it, collecting herself. The trip up the steep flight of stairs that she shared with her neighbor had her head pounding, but this didn’t account for the blood rushing through her veins or explain the smile on her face.

Aside from the plant business, life had been milling along at a steady pace for so long now. Then bam, last night’s accident had been a lightning strike, and nothing since promised the same easy predictability.

Stepping away from the door, Jenna flattened one hand against her heart. The happy, bubbly feeling pressing back wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, but she’d be a liar to pretend it hadn’t been a long time since she’d caught herself crushing on someone the way she was on Jake.

Since dropping out of med school six years ago, Jenna had dated a whopping total of three guys, all of whom she’d met online. She still remembered how, despite their relatively accurate online profiles, her heart had sunk at least a little with each first in-person meeting. Convincing herself it was more about her own expectations than chemistry, she’d continued on to date each of them, Kyle for a month, Ben for five months, and Anu for just over a year.

Yet, if she were being entirely truthful, Jenna remembered exactly the last time she’d gotten butterflies like this. When she’d first met Stuart. Those early months of med school when it was mostly just the two of them, studying or grabbing a bite after class, before Monica walked into the picture or, more aptly, the bar where they were hanging out to celebrate the end of exam week. By the end of the night, Jenna’s world split into a thousand fragments.

The part of her that never wanted to hurt like that again shot up a warning flare. Not only did she know very little about the man in her backyard, but it was safer being single. Easier to manage her two jobs, friendships, and last but not least, the space Monica and her nephews took up in her life.

Jenna kicked out of her shoes and treaded as lightly as possible to the sunroom at the back of her apartment where she did all her painting. As bright as it was outside, it would be difficult for Jake to see inside through the glass should he glance this way. Even so, Jenna hung back a few feet as she gazed down on the yard.

Jake was in the center of it, resting on his heels, leash in hand. The dog was trotting in a wide arc around him, his bushy tail lifted and his full attention on Jake. At this angle, Jenna could see that Jake was talking to him—softly, she was betting, but with enough inflection to hold the dog’s attention.

Twenty bucks right now that’s never going to work. There was only one thing her sister and Stuart had gotten that dog to get leashed up over this last month, and it was food.

But with this new information, it made more sense. Jenna would never fault Seven for anything ever again. Six shelters. In less than two years! It hardly seemed possible. To have family after family give up on him. No wonder he counter-surfed and battled being kenneled the way he did. Thinking of how good he’d been with Sam and Joseph despite all this had tears stinging her eyes.

Down in the yard, Jake rolled his neck slowly from side to side and lingered on the right side, making Jenna wonder if it had anything to do with the accident. On the car ride here, after he’d handed Jenna the sunglasses, they’d talked about it some. Turns out, Jenna’s truck had been flung into the grill of Jake’s Jeep hard enough that his airbags had deployed too. He’d insisted the damage seemed minimal and that he’d been unhurt, and hopefully this was all true.

No question, it warmed her toward him even more than the way he was taking on the dog like this, but the flutterflies—Sam’s word for butterflies—had been stirring even before she’d spotted Seven in the back of the car. And now, Jenna’s insides were at war, shooting off reminders of what it had felt like to fall after experiencing stirrings like this and still stirring just as wildly all the same.

Jenna was about to back away and leave them to it when Jake gave a little nod and a flick of the wrist, sending the leash clip in a tight circle. So abruptly it seemed like a trick of the eye, Seven changed course and trotted straight to him, stopping a few feet away. With a measured assuredness, Jake reached out and clipped the leash onto his collar.

As soon as he was hooked, Seven dashed to the far end of the leash and dropped into a play bow, barking at Jake and wagging his tail. Jake’s face lit with happiness as he stood up. “Good boy! Good boy, Seven!” was audible through the glass.

Jenna watched them leave, Seven bucking alongside Jake like a rodeo horse along the way to the gate, and Jake letting him do it.

“What do you know?” she mumbled. “I owe someone twenty bucks over that, that’s for sure.” Maybe, Jenna realized, it was time to bet on possibility over probability.