Melissa Mcclone - The Man Behind the Pinstripes

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.

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 … people.

“Come sit with us,” Gertie said.

Us .

A sheen of sweat covered Becca’s skin from the warm temperature, but she shivered.

Caleb had multi-millions. Gertie had hundreds of millions. Becca had $8,428.

She didn’t want much—a roof over her head, a dog to call her own and the chance to prove herself as a professional handler. Not a lot to ask.

But those dreams had imploded thanks to Caleb Fairchild.

Becca didn’t want to spend another minute with the man.

She glanced back at her boss.

“Please, Becca.” Gertie’s words were drawn out with an undertone of a plea. Gertie might be more upset about Fair Face not wanting to take on her new products than she acted.

Becca whipped around. Forced a smile. Took a step onto the patio. “Sure, I’ll sit for a few minutes.”

Caleb was still standing, a tall, dream-crushing force she did not want to reckon with ever again.

Walking to the table, she didn’t acknowledge his presence. He didn’t deserve a second look or an “excuse me” as she passed.

Gertie had to be reeling, the same as Becca, after what he’d said.

I still wouldn’t manufacture them .

Becca’s blood boiled. But she couldn’t lose it.

She touched Gertie’s thin shoulder, not knowing how else to comfort her employer, her friend. The luxurious feel of silk beneath Becca’s palm would soon be a thing of the past. But it wasn’t the trappings of wealth she would miss. It was this amazing woman, the one who had almost made Becca believe anything was possible. Almost …

“I’m so sorry.” A lump burned in her throat. Her eyes stung. She blinked. “You’ve worked so hard and wasted so much time for nothing.”

Gertie waved her hand as if her arm were an enchanted wand that could make everything better. Diamonds sparkled beneath the sun. Prisms of lights danced. If only magic did exist …

“None of this has been a waste, dear.” Gertie smiled up at Becca. Not the trying-hard-to-smile-and-not-cry of someone disappointed and reeling, but a smile full of light and hope. “The products are top-notch. You said so yourself. Nothing has changed, in spite of what Caleb thinks.”

He gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Obviously he didn’t agree with his grandmother. But Gertie didn’t seem deterred.