The Billionaire's Matchmaker(45)

It was nice to come home to someone. Memories of opening her door to find Gid already inside crowded her mind. On days when she worked late at the flower shop, he often let himself in with the key she’d given him and started dinner. Of the two of them, he was the better cook, which wasn’t saying much. Scrambled eggs and one-pot meals were his specialties. The food might not have caused her mouth to water, but the man always had.

“I’m not going to miss him,” she told Charlie. The dog looked as convinced as she felt.

If she were home more, Mia would have considered getting a pet of her own, but it wasn’t practical to take an animal to work with her all the time as she’d been doing with Charlie. Nor would it be a good idea to leave one home alone—even for shorter stretches, she decided, looking past the dog to the mess scattered across the living room floor. In the two hours since she’d dropped Charlie at home to meet up with Jenny, it looked like a tornado had touched down. Neither Gabby nor Marney had mentioned Charlie‘s predilection for home destruction. Then again, they’d rarely—if ever—left him unattended.

“What have you been into?” she murmured.

Garbage was the obvious guess, since she spotted an empty egg carton amid the debris. But there was a plastic milk jug from the recycling bin, too and…was that black lace? She moved closer to inspect, eyes widening in disbelief. Indeed it was black lace, and some of it still clung to the mauled remnant of what she deduced to be an underwire.

“You ate my bra?” she asked incredulously.

Mia had hand-washed the undergarment that very morning and hung it over the shower curtain rod in the bathroom to dry. She should have known that for a dog with as much spring in his hind legs as Charlie it wouldn’t be out of the way.

He belched in response and then threw up on the toes of her shoes. Afterward, he moaned pitifully and plopped down on the floor. Garbage and a side helping of lingerie had taken their toll.

“Oh, Charlie.”

In the time it took her to clean up the mess, Charlie continued to whine and hadn’t moved. More than anything, his lethargy had her concerned, especially since she’d never found the bra’s other underwire. Even though it was nearly ten o’clock at night, Mia debated for only a moment before dialing Gid’s home number.

“I’m sorry to bother you at this late hour,” she said when he answered.

“Mia?” He sounded surprised, and her traitorous heart kicked out an extra beat when he asked in a voice laced with concern, “Are you okay?”

If she said no, even after everything that had passed between them, would he still get in his Jeep and be over right away? She didn’t have the courage to find out.

“I’m fine. It’s Charlie. He ate my…um, some stuff he shouldn’t have, and now he doesn’t look so good.” She cast a glance at the dog. Upon hearing his name, not even his tail twitched.

“Has he regurgitated any of it?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t seem to have made him feel much better.”

“I’ll meet you at the clinic in fifteen minutes,” Gid offered without hesitation.

“Thanks, Gid. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s all in a day’s work,” he replied.

…

Was that all it was? Gid wondered as he tugged on a pair of jeans and, after giving it the sniff test, pulled over his head the T-shirt he’d found on the floor of his bedroom. He didn’t want to see Mia. He wasn’t a glutton for punishment. But he knew he wouldn’t be dashing up to the clinic after hours to attend another emergency with such a sense of anticipation.

Mia’s older model blue Chevy was in the parking lot in the spot closest to the door. She was out of the car, a limp Charlie in her arms, even before he had shifted the Jeep into park. Worry caused her features to pinch.

“Has he thrown up again?” he asked as he unlocked the main door and deactivated the alarm system.

“No, but he was making heaving sounds all the way over here.”

In the examining room, she placed Charlie on the table. He whined pathetically and the look he shot Gid said, “Help me,” as clearly as if he’d spoken the words aloud.

“Hey, fella.” He put a stethoscope against a few places on Charlie’s belly and listened. The rumbling he heard was music to his ears. “Things are moving around, which is a good sign.” He glanced up at Mia. “What exactly did he eat?”

“What didn’t he eat might be the better question,” she replied wryly. “He got into the garbage can in the kitchen. I think there might have been some chicken bones in there from last night’s dinner. And he hit the recycling bin. He chewed up a plastic milk jug pretty good. And…” She glanced away before mumbling, “He ate one of my bras.”

Gid wasn’t sure he heard her right. “Excuse me?”

“He ate one of my bras.”

“Ah. I see. Which one?”

“An underwire,” she mumbled.

“The black lacey one from Victoria’s Secret?”

She folded her arms. “That would be the one.”

Well, no one could fault the dog’s taste, Gid thought. That stingy bit of lace had always looked plenty appetizing to him, too. He forced his mind back to the matter at hand.

“How much of it did he eat?”