The Bachelor Next Door

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo),

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

He didn’t have time for this.

Brendan Kane followed the path of destruction down the hall to the living room, where tiny pieces of white foam scattered across the hardwood floor made it look as if an early snowfall had swept across Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. The trail wound between the coffee table and leather recliner and disappeared behind the sofa.

Brendan knelt down for a better look. Sure enough, peering at him over a barricade of stolen goods was the perpetrator of the latest crime spree. A slightly overweight basset hound happily stripping the remaining leaves from the branch of a silk ficus his mother had rescued from the curb just moments before it was devoured by the steel jaws of the garbage truck.

Because rescuing things was part of Sunni’s M.O., which was how Brendan had ended up with Missy, a troublesome canine who preferred leather shoes, artificial plants and, yes, even the occasional sofa pillow, over rawhide chews.

“There are laws against vandalism, you know.” He scowled at the dog but she ignored him. It reminded Brendan of Sunni’s response when he’d told her that he was too busy to care for a pet.

A few months ago, his mother had started volunteering at the local animal shelter, and it had become her personal mission to find homes for all the stray dogs and cats that came in on her watch. Sunni was gaining quite a reputation in Castle Falls for her ability to match an animal with just the right owner. But so far, when it came to her oldest son, she was 0 for 3.

Brendan had been waiting for her to realize that he was the common denominator in all the failed relationships.

“This is strike three, you know.” And he was out. “You’re going to have to chew someone else out of house and—” Brendan paused as his cell phone began to blast the theme song from Mission: Impossible, signaling an incoming call from his youngest brother.

Brendan stabbed at the green circle on the screen. “What?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Aiden’s low chuckle rattled in his ear. “Are you busy?”

“I’m always busy.” Brendan narrowed his eyes at the basset hound. She’d dropped the ficus branch and was eyeing his shoelaces as if they were the next item on the buffet. “Don’t even think about it,” he muttered.

“Don’t think about what?”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Okay,” Aiden said mildly. “Then who are you talking to?”

Busted.

“No one.”

“Disturbing. And proof you need to get out more.”

“Fine. I was talking to…Missy.” Brendan was forced to be honest, although he hated giving his kid brother any ammunition that could potentially be used against him in the future.

“Are you kidding?” Aiden hooted. Obviously forgetting the fact that he was four years younger, two inches shorter and had yet to beat Brendan in hand-to-hand sibling combat. “Liam and I didn’t think she’d last a week.”

Brendan silently counted backward. “You were right.”

The statement was followed by a whistle that threatened to pierce his left eardrum. “Have you broken the news to Mom?”

“Not yet.”

“Can I watch?”

“Very funny.” Brendan swept up a handful of damp leaf debris. “I tried to tell her this was destined to fail.”

Missy cast a reproachful look in his direction, took a few waddling steps forward and leaped onto the couch. No easy feat for an animal roughly the size and shape of the pillow she’d recently shredded.

“You know Mom,” Aiden said. “She wants everyone to be happy.”

“Then why isn’t she leaving dogs on your doorstep?”

Brendan relocated an African violet from the windowsill to the stone ledge above the fireplace. Just in case.

“Maybe she thinks you need the practice,” his brother said cheerfully.

Brendan scowled. “What kind of practice?”

“Uh…the commitment kind?”

“I am committed.” To the business he’d poured his heart and soul into for the past fifteen years. At sixteen, Brendan had saved Castle Falls Outfitters from bankruptcy. Ten years later, he’d doubled its annual profit. And any day now, if everything went according to plan, he would be signing a contract with a large sporting-goods chain, making their custom-made canoes available throughout the Midwest.

No one seemed to realize that kind of responsibility didn’t leave a whole lot of time for anything else. Not that Brendan was complaining. It would take a lifetime to repay the debt he owed Sunni Mason, a woman who’d taken in three aspiring juvenile delinquents when they’d had nowhere else to go.

“Or…Mom knows you practically live in your office, and she doesn’t want you to be lonely.”

“Lonely.” When Brendan barely had a minute to himself? He worked out of an office at their mother’s house, and even though his two younger brothers had converted storage space above the garage into a spacious apartment, they spent more time hanging out at his place than they did their own.

“You’ve heard the word, right?” Aiden laughed. “It’s one of those pesky little things people sometimes refer to as emotions.”

Brendan rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for those, either.

A car door slammed, and he glanced at the clock. Five o’clock on the dot. Sonia, affectionately known as Sunni to the people who loved her, was always punctual.

“I have to go.”

“Wait—”

Brendan hung up the phone. A split second later, he heard Sunni humming the chorus of a familiar praise song as she made her way up the sidewalk.

Missy tipped her nose toward the ceiling and let out a mournful howl.

The humming stopped.

Great.

“Tattletale,” he grumbled.

The dog ignored him—naturally—and launched herself off the sofa. All four paws shot out in different directions on the hardwood floor like the points on a compass, and yet she still managed to beat him to the front door.