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saw reflected in his gaze. If she had thick, dark lashes like his she would never need to buy mascara again.

      She wiped her hand on her shorts then extended her arm. “I’m Becca Taylor.”

      His grip was strong, his skin warm.

      A burst of heat shot up her arm and pulsed through her veins.

      “Caleb Fairchild.” His rich voice reminded her of melted dark chocolate, rich and smooth and tasty.

      Wait a minute. Fairchild. That meant he was …

      “My grandson,” Gertie said.

      The man who could make Becca’s dream of working as a full-time dog handler come true. If the dog products sold as well as Gertie expected, Becca would have the means to travel the dog show circuit without needing to work extra part-time jobs to cover living expenses.

      Caleb Fairchild. She couldn’t believe he was here. That had to mean good news about the dog products.

      Uh-oh. Ogling him was the last thing she should be doing. He was the CEO of Fair Face and wealthy. Wealthy, as in she could win the lottery twice and not come close to his net worth.

      “Nice to meet you.” Becca realized she was still holding his hand. She released it. “I’ve heard lots about you.”

      Caleb’s gaze slid over her as if he’d reviewed the evidence, passed judgment and sentenced her to the not-worth-his-time crowd. “I haven’t heard about you until today.”

      His formal demeanor made Jane Austen’s Mr. Darcy seem downright provincial. No doubt Mr. Fairchild thought he was too good for her.

      Maybe he was.

      But she wouldn’t let it bother her.

      Her career was not only at stake, but also in his hands.

      “Tell me about yourself,” he said.

      His stiff tone irritated her like a flea infestation in the middle of winter. But she couldn’t let her annoyance show.

      She met his gaze straight on, making sure she didn’t blink or show any signs of weakness. “I’m a dog person.”

      “I thought you were a consultant.”

      A what? Becca struggled for something to say, struggled and came up empty. Still she had to try. “I … I—”

      “Becca is a dog consultant,” Gertie said. “She’s a true dog whisperer. Her veterinary knowledge has been invaluable with product development. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

      If Becca wasn’t already indebted to Gertie Fairchild, she was now.

      Gertie shot a pointed look at Caleb. “Perhaps if you dropped by more often you’d know what’s going on.”

      Caleb directed a smile at his grandmother that redefined the word charming.

      Not that Becca was about to be charmed. The dogs might like him, but she was … reserving judgment.

      “I see you every Sunday for brunch at the club.” Caleb’s affection for his grandmother wrapped around Becca like a thick, warm comforter, weighing the scales in his favor. “But you never talk about yourself.”

      Gertie shrugged, but hurt flashed in her eyes so fast Becca doubted if Caleb noticed. “Oh, it just seems like we end up talking about you and Courtney.”

      “Well, I’m here now,” he said.

      Gertie placed her hand over her heart and closed her eyes. “To dash all my hopes and dreams.”

      Becca’s gaze bounced between the two. “What do you mean?”

      Caleb touched Gertie’s arm. “My grandmother is being melodramatic.”

      Opening her eyes, Gertie pursed her lips. “I’m entitled to be a drama queen. You don’t want our pet products.”

      No. No. No. If that was true, it would ruin … everything. Gertie wouldn’t go forward with the dog products without her company backing them. Becca forced herself to breathe. “I don’t understand.”

      Gertie shook her head. “My grandson, the CEO, and his closed-minded cronies at my company believe our dog skin care line will devalue their brand.”

      “That’s stupid and shortsighted,” Becca said.

      Caleb eyed her as if she were the bounty, a half-eaten mouse or bird, left on the porch by an outdoor cat. “That’s quite an opinion for a … consultant.”

      “Not for a dog consultant.” The words came out more harshly than Becca intended, but if she couldn’t change his mind she would be back to living in a singlewide behind Otto. Otto, her parents’ longtime trailer park manager, wore stiletto heels with his camouflage, and skinned squirrels for fun. “Do you know how much money is spent annually on pets?”

      “Billions.”

      “Over fifty billion dollars. Food and vet costs are the largest portion, but analysts project over four billion dollars are spent on pet services. That includes grooming. Gertie’s products are amazing. Better than anything on the market.”

      Gertie nodded. “If only my dear husband were still around. He’d jump on this opportunity.”

      “Gramps would agree with me.” Caleb frowned, not a sad one, more of a do-we-have-to-go-through-this-again frown. “Fair Face is not being shortsighted. We have a strategic plan.”

      Becca forced herself not to slump. “So change your plan.”

      “Where’d you get your MBA?” he asked.

      Try AA degree. “I didn’t study business. I’m a certified veterinary technician, but my most valuable education came from The School of Hard Knocks.”

      Aka the Idaho Women’s Correctional Center.

      “As I explained to my grandmother, the decision about manufacturing the dog skin care line is out of my hands.”

      Caleb’s polite tone surprised Becca, but provided no comfort. Not after she’d poured her heart and soul into the dog products. “If the decision was all yours?”

      His hard, cold gaze locked on hers. “I still wouldn’t manufacture them.”

      The words slammed into Becca like a fist to her jaw. She took a step back. But she couldn’t retreat. “How could you do this to your grandmother?”

      Caleb opened his mouth to speak.

      Gertie placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll help Becca understand.”

      He muttered a thank-you.

      “This decision is in the best interest of Fair Face.” Gertie sounded surprisingly calm. “It’s okay.”

      But it wasn’t.

      Becca had thought that things would be different this time. That she could be a part of something, something big and successful and special. That maybe, just maybe, dreams could come true.

      She should have known better.

      Things never worked out for girls—women—like Becca.

      And never would.

      CHAPTER TWO

      A FEW MINUTES LATER, Becca stood where the grass met the patio, her heart in her throat and her back to Gertie and Caleb. Dogs panted with eagerness, waiting for the ball to be thrown again.

      And again. And again.

      Playing fetch kept Becca’s shoulders from sagging. She would much rather curl up in the kennel with the dogs than be here. Dogs gave her so much. Loyalty, companionship and most importantly love. Dogs loved unconditionally. They cared, no matter what. They accepted her for who she was without any explanations.

      Unlike

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