Season of Us

By Pamela Sanderson

Sunny. Sexy. Sweet.

Shelly Paige has never been one to take risks. Even less so since the loss of her husband. She's content to stay in the town she grew up in, surrounded by the safety of family. A lost dog leads her to a handsome young athlete and the possibility of new adventures. Can she put the past behind her and take a chance on love again?

Zach Carrey is a professional soccer player still finding his way in the high pressure sports world. Unfamiliar town. Tough coach. And he's had heartbreak of his own. The sweet and sexy widow is the calm presence he didn't know he needed. Can he convince her he's worth the risk?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pamela Sanderson
• Release date: Dec 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519921888

Book preview

Chapter 1

The first time Shelly saw the dog, she had just gotten home from work. The dog was hunkered down and taking a dump in the middle of her lawn.

Hey! she shouted. Do that at home.

The dog had short, dark-brown fur and had to be a mutt. She guessed lab, maybe mixed with pit bull. Cute, except for the pooping.

The dog startled and darted into the street, hanging its head. It trotted away but stopped and turned to give Shelly a sad look.

Don’t give me that look, bad dog, Shelly said. Do I do that at your house?

She went inside and found one of Getty’s poop sacks, still stored in the laundry room in a plastic bag stuffed with poop sacks. One more item she no longer used but couldn’t seem to throw away. A hint of a lump formed at the back of her throat, but she swallowed it down. These weren’t Getty’s poop sacks anymore. Just plastic bags with a purpose.

When she returned, the dog was sniffing the shrubs at the end of the driveway. As soon as Shelly stepped off the porch, it backed away.

Sorry, dog, Shelly said, as she picked up the mess, but we aren’t going to be friends. This is a ‘no dog’ house now. Understand?

The dog made a sound like a barking cough. Shelly took this more as a leave-me-alone bark rather than an I-am-a-mean-dog bark. It watched her tie a knot at the top of the bag of shame, then ducked its head and took off again, one back leg gingerly tapping the ground.

Great, you’re hurt, too, she muttered.

A couple of years earlier, she wouldn’t have thought twice about chasing after the dog. She would have checked for a collar. She wouldn’t have gone on with her day until she could bring it back to its people or at least know the dog was safe. Dogs were sweet and loyal and lovable but also mortal creatures that could save or break a person’s heart.

But she was dead tired. She’d opened the store and stuck around to close the store, like she did most days. You should keep busy, people were fond of saying. That was exactly what she did.

She went back in the house and changed out of her work clothes, the entire time thinking about the dog. It seemed like it knew what it was doing. Maybe it was on its way home. Or maybe not. Had she become the kind of person who would let a hurt and hungry dog wander around by itself?

No. She would worry about that sad dog all evening.

She dug through the refrigerator and threw together a turkey sandwich, and then went back outside. The dog was hanging out at the edge of the lawn, looking forlorn.

You recognized the soft heart under this hardened exterior, Shelly said.

The dog crawled forward, low to the ground, as if it didn’t want anyone to notice. Its fur was matted with mud and it eyed her sandwich with longing.

You look like I feel most days. Shelly held up the sandwich. You want to share? She tore the sandwich in half and put one half on the grass. The dog waited for her to move away, then crept forward and licked the edge. It came close enough to snatch the food, then backed away. The dog chomped it in one bite, eating everything except for the lettuce leaf.

Sorry about the green stuff, Shelly said.

The dog licked the ground, as if it might have missed a crumb. Shelly put the second half of the sandwich on the lawn.

I meant what I said, this is a ‘no dog’ house. However, I am willing to make a brief exception. I’m going to go back inside and make you another sandwich and get a water bowl. If you stay here, I’ll help you.

Shelly went into the house, wondering what she was doing. Getty’s water bowl was still in the house somewhere, but she wasn’t up for looking for it. She took a bowl from the kitchen and made another turkey sandwich, this one with no lettuce, and cut it into four pieces. She put a handful of animal crackers in her pocket.

Back outside, she put the bowl on the lawn and filled it from the hose.

The dog waited until she sat back down and then pounced on the water bowl, lapping up water in big sloppy scoops. Some of it sloshed out of the bowl. It stopped and lifted its head, water dripping from its snout.

New to drinking? Shelly asked.

The dog balanced on three legs, the fourth barely touching the ground. It waited for Shelly to refill the bowl and quickly finished it again.

Good dog, but I’ve got something better, she said. She set the dog’s sandwich next to her on the porch. The whole thing is for you.

The dog had moved closer but sniffed at the ground, as if it didn’t want Shelly to know it was paying attention.

For a minute she thought it was all for nothing. The dog sniffed the air and seemed to consider the yard next door. Shelly took one piece of the sandwich and set it down on the grass. After a moment the dog came over and gulped it up.

You don’t want me to think you’re easy, Shelly said. I get it. Come on, there’s more. She put a piece near her feet. The dog lurched forward and didn’t eat so much as it inhaled the food. The dog waited where it was.

Shelly set the last two pieces next to her on the porch. The dog stared at the sandwich.

I can see now that you’re a lady dog, Shelly said. You’re very pretty. I bet someone is looking for you. The dog dipped her head, like she couldn’t make up her mind.

Do you want some help finding your people? she asked. The dog crept closer. I could look at your bum leg, too. Shelly could reach out and scratch the dog’s head if she wanted. She folded her hands in her lap. The dog came over and grabbed the last bites of the sandwich and chomped away as if it were the last meal on earth. Her tail waved back and forth while she checked the ground for crumbs.

Shelly held out an animal cracker. Friends?

The dog licked Shelly’s fingers and then gently took it from her hand.

I wish my turkey sandwiches had that effect on everyone, Shelly said, scratching around the dog’s ears.

And of course there is no collar. Now you are my project.

The dog wagged her tail. Shelly could picture the dog’s owners. Probably kids, maybe a young boy and a little sister, their worried faces searching out the car window while Mom and Dad took turns driving around the neighborhood. They would have made signs: Lost Dog, and posted them around the school and at the grocery store.

Shelly wanted to make sure those kids got their dog back.

Poor lost dog, I’ll take care of you for now. Shelly took her time alternating between petting the dog and giving her cookies, using a comforting voice. At last the dog flopped down and put her head in Shelly’s lap.

***

One of Getty’s collars and a leash still hung next to the side door that led outside. Sometimes Todd would mess with the dog and jangle the leash when he had no intention of taking him for a walk. Next thing, Getty would leap around the house like a nut, bringing their sneakers over or nudging them toward the door. That’s what Shelly loved about dogs. They were so easy to make happy. Often she would end up taking Getty out because how could you disappoint such a happy creature?

Normally, seeing Getty’s leash nudged a sad memory. More than once she had taken it down, and one time she’d actually dropped it in the trash. But she always pulled it out, unwilling to put the past so completely behind her.

Today it seemed smart, prescient, even, to be prepared for this situation. The lost dog licked her cheek when she leaned down to fit the collar around her neck. The dog waited patiently while she clipped on the leash.

Let’s go, dog, Shelly said and led her out to the car.

Nora’s truck was still in the parking lot when she pulled up to the veterinarian’s office. Nora was a brisk, no-nonsense woman who had done Getty’s checkups from the time he was a puppy getting his first shots. Her office was in a big, old house. The front walk was lined with colorful tiles decorated by kids, and planter boxes with pink geraniums.

Lost dog wasn’t fooled. She trembled in the back seat, her sad eyes appealing for mercy.

Nora is a nice lady, Shelly said. She can fix your foot and, if you’re good, she will give you a treat.

Lost dog let Shelly drag her from the car. The dog took her time going up the walk, thoroughly sniffing each planter.

Can’t avoid it, dog, Shelly said, nudging her toward the entrance.

The clinic was supposed to be closed, but the front door was unlocked. The front desk was empty.

Hello?

Hang on. There was no mistaking the irritation in the voice. Nora was well-loved by her patients and their people. Todd’s nickname for her was The Robot because he said she was emotionless, but Shelly figured you needed to have a calm exterior if you were going to be dealing with people and their hurt pets.

Nora broke into a smile when she saw Shelly had a dog. Who’s your new friend? Nora scratched the dog’s head and had a closer look. This poor dog has been through a tough time.

This is a lost dog, Shelly said. No collar. I thought you could look at her foot. She holds it up and keeps licking it. She got cranky when I tried to examine it.

We can do that, Nora said. And if she’s chipped, we can get her back home. If not, perhaps you have a new pet.

Nora smiled knowingly.

Shelly was surprised to find her resistance already fading. How nice would it be to come home to a friendly face after work? But how could she have a dog when she was spending so much time at the store?

Nora brought them back and coaxed the dog up on the examination table. The dog began to tremble again.

You’re okay, Shelly said, rubbing around the dog’s ears. She kept the dog’s attention while Nora did her examination. I think she’s been lost for some time. She was hungry and thirsty and worn out by the time she ended up in my front yard.

Lost. Or dognapped. Sometimes people will steal a dog to try to get a reward.

That’s terrible.

Could be abandoned, too, Nora said. It’s sad how often people leave their pets. Their circumstances change, they can’t keep it. Can’t find another home.

Who could abandon a dog like this? I yelled at her to go home, Shelly said. Sorry, dog. The dog licked her hand and nuzzled her as if to say it was time to go.

She seems in good health other than the rough and tumble of being out on her own, Nora said. The foot’s not bad. It’s a minor laceration. We can clean her up and we’ll see if we can find the owner.

By the way, I plan to pay for the service, Nora, Shelly said. If that’s an issue.

I wasn’t worried about that, Nora said. She carefully avoided eye contact and said, You look good. I like your hair longer like that. How have you been doing?

Shelly recognized that particular question, the phrasing, the tone. This was Nora asking what happened without asking what happened.

Some days are better than others. But most of them are better. It’s been almost two years. I regained the weight I lost. Some women might complain about that, but it was like I was disappearing. I like having my curves back. Shelly shrugged. Sometimes it feels like it’s all I can do to get through the day. Other days I feel like a regular person, whatever that means. But I’m turning a corner. Kind of. I can see the corner up ahead and I will get there, hopefully soon. Todd’s family has been everything to me. I don’t know what I would do without them. Plus I’m busy at the store.

The store, Nora said. I need to come over. I need a swimsuit but hate shopping for them.

You are Sassy Swim Shop’s favorite kind of customer, Shelly said. Come by. I’ll take care of you.

I will pep myself up for it, Nora said.

The dog tried to pull her paw from Nora’s hand, but Nora had a good grip. The dog licked Shelly’s face again.

I’m so sorry for what happened, Nora said slowly. Shouldn’t have happened to good people like you. Having a pet can be an incredible comfort.

Shelly was tired of well-meaning people telling her what they thought would be a comfort.

How does the chip work? she asked.

Didn’t Getty have one?

Yeah, but I forget how it works. They kept sending me emails to keep my registry updated. I unsubscribed. Blocked it out.

Oh, sorry, Nora said. I could have taken care of that. It never occurred to me.

I could have taken care of it, too, Shelly said. I just didn’t want to.

I understand. Nora pulled the reader out of a drawer. Let’s see if it is this lost dog’s lucky day.

Nora ran the device along the dog’s back. I like to call this the magic wand, she said. I wish it looked like a magic wand.

After a few seconds, the device beeped.

We call that the happy beep. Nora scratched the dog’s head. You’re going to be able to go home.

On the way out, Nora handed Shelly a card. This is Dewey.

Someone named a dog Dewey?

You would be amazed at what people name their pets. Here’s the owner’s information from the registry. When you change your mind and want a dog, let me know. I always know of a sweet-tempered pet that needs a good home.

Thanks, Nora.

Out in the parking lot, Shelly took out her phone. She was surprised to find she was a little bit disappointed. She was happy to help the dog get home. No doubt the owners were worried and would be happy to be reunited with their pet. But the dog was such a sweetie and she already felt a little attached. Maybe she was ready for a pet.

She scratched the dog’s head. Dewey, let’s get you home. Her heart was pounding when she dialed the number. The line clicked, but nothing happened. Hello? The line clicked again and a recorded voice told her the number was no longer in service.

Well, that’s disappointing, Shelly said, unable to suppress a smile. I guess we’re stuck with each other for now.

Chapter 2

Shelly took Dewey home. She used to make Getty’s food and she already had most of the ingredients to make some for Dewey. She updated her grocery list. If she was going to have a dog, she needed to be prepared.

Dewey circled the kitchen a few times, ensuring that the floor was completely crumb free, then plunked herself down in the middle of the floor.

Really? That spot? Shelly said, as she stepped over the dog. There’s no other place where you would be more comfortable?

Dewey rested her head on her paws. Shelly hung up the leash and filled the water bowl. How quickly one fell back into old habits.

Her phone rang. Shelly had to step back over the dog to get it off the counter.

If I break my neck, I’ll make you sorry, she told the dog.

It’s me, Gina said. You won’t believe it, but our mother-in-law dropped off the books. She said maybe we can talk about the future of the store. Gina gave a theatrical sigh. "Finally."

Don’t be too hard on Peggy—

I don’t mean to be hard on her, Gina said. I get frustrated at not being able to make any business decisions.

Maybe this means she’s moving forward, Shelly said. Inching forward. We work through stuff differently.

I hope so. Speaking of moving forward, I know this is a sensitive topic, but I’ve been charged with passing along a message.

Shelly groaned into the phone. Gina was going to tell her about a guy.

Just listen. Do you remember Nick? That buddy of Todd’s from school who moved to Washington, DC?

Nick the Dick?

Todd and his nicknames, Gina said. I guess. He moved back. I ran into him at the bank and he asked about you. He’s single and great-looking. He was driving a nice car so he’s probably doing all right.

Yes, and I’m definitely the type who cares about what’s in a man’s wallet before everything else, Shelly said.

You might care about other things in his pants, Gina said.

Of course. I am the kind of person yearning for all the things that can be found in a man’s pants.

I told him I would pass along the message, Gina said. It wouldn’t kill you to go on a date. Eat a meal and talk to a person. You should do something besides work.

So, boss, you complaining that I spend too much time at the store?

Never. Just a friendly suggestion. It’s good to have a life outside of business.

I have a life outside of business, thanks. I can do things without having to go on a date.

I’m going to remind you, almost a year ago you told me if you were still moping around, that I should nudge you.

Nudge acknowledged, Shelly said. If I’m still moping in another year, try again.

Putting it on the calendar. Meanwhile, are you still going tonight? The offer to join you stands.

You mean the offer to come over here and pick me up and make sure I actually go?

She’d had this conversation with her sister-in-law at least twenty times since Shelly mentioned she still had the tickets. Shelly pulled open the junk drawer in the kitchen. One packet of season tickets sat in the drawer, tucked in with the packet from last season, never touched. Every time Shelly opened that drawer looking for a rubber band, or a screwdriver, or a piece of tape, she would see those tickets. Last year she pretended she didn’t see them. They were something that belonged to someone else. Someone who would have loved to use them if he could, but unfortunately, he could not.

I know you don’t like it when people tell you something will be good for you, Gina said. So I’m not saying it.

Gee, so kind of you. But, as it turns out, I have a real excuse. I found a dog. I don’t want to leave it alone.

You found a dog? Gina said. What were you doing?

Nothing. She was in my yard. Her name is Dewey. She has a bum foot.

What happened? Did it fall out of a tree?

Possibly. She does look like one of those tree-climbing dogs.

Your new friend, Dewey, will be fine if you leave the house for a few hours. Aren’t you always telling me that one of the great things about soccer is a match is only ninety minutes? Will this dog of yours expire if left alone for such a short time?

Probably not, but it wouldn’t be nice.

Gina sighed. Why did you even renew the tickets if you don’t want to go?

Shelly wasn’t sure herself. After the first year, she promised herself she wouldn’t renew. Let someone else who actually wanted to go to the matches take the tickets. But when the form arrived, she found herself on the phone, reading off the numbers on her credit card. She wasn’t ready to let them go. She needed to have them, just in case. In her head, she understood he wasn’t coming back but, in her heart, she couldn’t completely close the door on the idea.

I do want to go, Shelly said slowly. But when it comes to actually getting in the car and driving over there and walking through the gate, I get nervous.

Nervous never hurt anyone, Gina said, exasperated. You should go to the game. If you hate it you can get rid of the tickets and put the whole thing behind you.

After a pause, Shelly said, Maybe I don’t want to put the whole thing behind me.

You know what I mean. Do you like the games?

I love the games.

Okay, then. I won’t bug you anymore. Enjoy your evening.

After she hung up, Shelly took a picture of Dewey and texted it to Gina with the note, I DID find a dog.

Shelly crouched down on the floor next to Dewey. I’m going to need you to hang out on your own this evening. I have to do this stupid thing. It’s for personal growth reasons. I hope you understand. Dewey’s tail thumped against the floor. No having boys over. I’ll put the match on and you can watch it on TV.

Chapter 3

Shelly was doing it. She was going to the match. All by herself and filled with dread about going into a big crowd alone. She didn’t mind being at home alone, or at the store, or even going to the lake. But what would it be like to be alone at the stadium? An uncomfortable chill bloomed in her stomach every time she thought about it. But she kept moving. Put on her Condors jersey and a pair of jeans. Laced up her shoes. Reassured the dog. Marched out to the car. The entire time, she was thinking: I can’t believe I’m doing this. What would Todd think? She kept moving, and soon the car was out of the driveway and she was driving around Black Lake.

The stadium was in Chesterfield, outside of downtown. Shelly pulled into the

Reviews for Season of Us

[A · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I loved this book! emotionally fluent characters who use their words! The conflict feels real and rooted in the story, the dialogue is natural and the jokes are funny. I just read this book in a day- notable because I’ve been in the kind of reading slump where I was half convinced that reading is work and I hadn’t had the attention span for anything longer than a novella in weeks. Now I’m off to read everything else Pamela Sanderson has ever published. My only disappointment with this book is that it doesn’t seem to be part of a series- I’m ready to read about Chad and the weird dog-walking neighbor!