When Lorenzo Dalton inherited his Grandma Mabel’s BMW Coupe, he was a twenty-two-year-old kid without a care in the world. Now, two years later, his inheritance has lost its luster, and so has his life, until an old friend rolls through the doors of the Little Ivywood Humane Society.
Catalina Chavéz, a successful artist, has spent fifteen years hiding her personal demons by hiding her heart. Now, staring thirty in the face, she’s ready to relinquish her recluse status and reconnect with old friends. She just wasn’t expecting one of them to be a tall, dark, and handsome Lorenzo Dalton.
Cat and Lorenzo find they share the same taste in food, music, and dreams for their future. They also share a mutual enemy, Xavier Carrellton. Threats, lies, murder, and betrayal swirl through the air of Little Ivywood, California, and neither knows friend from foe. Someone wants them dead, and they must find the killer, before the killer finds them.
Chapter One
Twenty months later
I wiped my brow and grabbed my tape, measuring the distance of the latches to make sure they were in the right place before I installed the gate. The stalls lining both sides of the wall resembled the ones you see in a barn for horses. These stalls were much smaller though, and the gates would hold the pooches in during rest and feeding time. The rest of the day, while their owners worked or enjoyed their vacation, the dogs could expect serious spoiling. The dogs boarded here at Dalton’s Doggie Daycare would enjoy trips to the dog park and outdoor kennel time as well as grooming and bathing. The small, separate building behind the humane society had a new doggie salon and self-serve dog washing station. I promised to have it finished by next month, just in time to reveal it at the annual humane society carnival.
Dr. Foster Kern, my brother-in-law and director of the humane society, took me out for a beer one night about a year ago, and asked me what I envisioned when he said doggie daycare and salon. Luckily, I’d been in the habit of carrying a small notebook in my back pocket for when inspiration hit. I used the notebook to draw a rough layout of what I pictured for the project. He liked my idea of making the salon a separate building. It allowed easier access to the self-serve dog wash for the public, and if I moved the laundry facility to the salon there was room for two extra daycare stalls.
In the end, Foster declined all the professional contracted bids for the project and hired me to do the job. It’s been a lot of trial by fire for a young carpenter, but I couldn't be prouder of the results. Not only would I have it done in the time frame he gave me, but unless something untoward occurs, the project will come in under budget as well. I took great pride in this build as it would be a huge résumé booster for me, whether I decide to work with a company or go it on my own. Since working here at the shelter, I’ve taken a liking to working for myself, and I’m tossing around continuing the trend when I finish here. There’s something to be said for being twenty-four and having the freedom to do what you want while making good money doing it.
Since Mabel, my grandmother who didn’t allow us to call her grandma, died, the humane society has become a second home for our whole family. Because of Mabel and her Saint Bernard, Brutus, my sister Cinn met Foster Kern. Unlike her ex-husband, Foster understood her illness and did everything in his power to convince her he would always love her. They had a beautiful ceremony about a year ago at Trigger’s Dog Park, the place they first met. The acre of land Mabel had donated to the shelter was now a bustling park for all of Little Ivywood’s canines to romp in safely. If it weren’t for Mabel’s death, the park, and Brutus, who knows what path our lives would have taken.
Tabitha found herself in some hot water right after Mabel passed, but even she has joined in. To get herself out of hot water she agreed to one hundred hours of community service at the shelter. She teamed up with Foster and together they organized a public service directive about dogs and antifreeze poisoning. Even when she finished the project, and had her service hours approved by the judge, Tabby didn’t leave her role as a volunteer at the shelter. The truth is, she has been the driving force behind this doggie daycare and salon. She has organized, advertised, procured donations, and set up an advertising campaign by herself for no reimbursement. She and Foster raised enough money for the project without even touching the money Mabel left the society.
My maḿa and dad didn’t want to miss out on the party either. They sold their house and moved into the apartment above the shelter where Foster used to live. After he and Cinn were married, they decided to live in Mabel’s house. It was significantly bigger than the apartment above the shelter, especially if they planned to have kids. My parents decided it was time to downsize since all their baby birds had flown the nest, and asked if they could rent it. Foster refused to take money, instead insisting they could pay their rent by helping around the shelter, cleaning the exam rooms at night, and taking shifts when the doggie daycare was up and running. Even though my dad still works, they agreed to those terms and moved in last April. They hadn’t lived here a month when a stray miniature schnauzer from the shelter found her way up the stairs to their apartment, and forgot to leave. She’s a sweet little thing, and honestly, I haven’t seen my parents this happy in ages. They act the same way the newlyweds do. Maybe it’s true what they say about a change of scenery giving you renewed energy and a new outlook on life. Since they moved here they both feel needed again, which was something they didn’t realize they were lacking. Mamá no longer has a blank stare on her face as if she’s lost, which makes all of us feel better. I suppose it’s hard when you’ve spent your life taking care of others, and suddenly they’re all gone. All you have left are blank walls to stare at and too many hours in your day.
Once I finished my apprenticeship, I found an apartment above a small diner in the middle of Little Ivywood. As a single guy, it meant easy access to food, which was handy since I can wield a hammer, but not a frying pan. After living there for just a few months the owner took me under her wing and insisted I have a hot meal twice a day when I’m home. Usually my dinner is the leftover special of the day she packages up and leaves for me to pick up. She calls it a special perk only for renters and you won’t hear me complain. Her food is fantastic and she often fixes authentic Mexican food, which reminds me of my childhood.
I grew up eating authentic Mexican food, since Maḿa moved to the U.S. on a work visa from Mexico. She attended most of her formative years of school here, but lived with her aunt, who owned a Hispanic grocery and café. Fresh out of high school, she fell in love with a guy named Bennie and as they say, the rest is history. She learned to cook from the women in her family, and we grew up on the spoils of her talent. Having a Hispanic mother meant something different to each of us. Like Tabitha and Cinn, I’m fluently bilingual, but I got most of my dominant genes from my dad. At nearly six feet two inches, I’m as thin as a twig, at least according to my landlord, but didn’t luck out and get the golden skin tone my sisters inherited. The one thing I did get from Maḿa, besides her love of food, was her beautiful black hair. I used to keep it long, weaving it into a braid while I worked, but after attending a safety class in college, and learning I could be scalped if it got caught in certain tools, I cut it immediately.
“Hello? Is anybody home?” called a voice from the front of the shelter.
I dropped my hammer into my tool belt and strode to the door, which opened to the waiting area. There was a woman sitting in the open space, gazing at the pictures on the walls. Her long chocolate brown hair curled around her cheeks. Her face held the roundness of a small child, but glowed with exuberance. Cherub was the word which rolled through my mind. She reminded me of someone I used to know, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. All I knew was she took my breath away and tied my tongue as I stood frozen in place.
When I could take a breath again, I held the door open with one hand. “Hello, are you looking for someone?”
Her head swiveled in my direction and she smiled. In all my life never has a smile rendered me speechless the way hers did today. “Hi, yes, my friend, Cinn Dalton, or rather Cinn Kern,” she said, her voice lilting in a way to make me think she was a singer or a poet. I had heard it before. The grocery store? College? I couldn’t decide.
I let the door go and stepped forward, sticking my hand out for her to shake after I checked to make sure it was clean. “Nice to meet you, I’m Cinn’s brother, Lorenzo.” The feel of her hand in mine made me breathless, and I immediately wondered how the rest of her would feel under my hands. I swallowed as a feeling of sadness, loneliness, and pain gripped me. I shook my head a little bit to clear it and drew my hand back immediately. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
She laughed, throwing her head back and holding her hands to her chest as if she was praying. “It’s been a long time since someone called me beautiful. Thanks, Lorenzo.”
I grinned, nodding my head. “I only speak the truth, Ms….”
“Catalina Chávez,” she answered, finishing my sentence for me. “You don’t remember me? I’m an old friend of Cinn’s from middle school. Boy, you certainly have grown up, Lorenzo. The last time I saw you, I think you came to here on me.” She held her hand near her neck and then let her hand drop.
I knelt in front of her wheelchair, so I could gaze into her eyes. “Tally?” I asked, shocked to be in front of the girl who used to practically live at my house when she and Cinn were in middle school. She wore braces on her teeth, drew on everything she could find, and barely spoke. The girl from my childhood had become a knockout.
She nodded, twisting her hands on her lap. “I am, but no one calls me Tally anymore. The life you remember ended for me a long time ago. Everyone calls me Lina now.”
I shook my head a few times as I ran my childhood backward through my memory. No matter what way I remembered it, she wasn’t in a wheelchair during the time she spent at our house. “You don’t look a thing like a Lina,” I mused. “I never cared for Tally, either. You always seemed like a cat to me. Mysterious, posed, and regal. I do believe I’ll go with Cat, if you’re all right with it.” I grinned and she did too, almost a mirror image of my own. Her head bounced up and down once, but it was enough for me to know she was fine with it. “I know my sister is around here somewhere. I’m a carpenter now and working on the shelter expansion, which is why I’m here at three p.m. on a Wednesday.”
She appeared surprised, but folded her hands in her lap. “I feel ancient sitting here talking to the boy who used to wear Underoos and tried to scare us while we watched scary movies.”
I laughed, and groaned, at the same time and waved my hand as if to wipe the memory away. “I promise you, I’m not an Underoos boy any longer.”
She shook her head. “No, you certainly aren’t. You’re all grown up now and I’m a little tongue-tied."
I love Lorenzo he's sweet kind and once he lays eyes on Cat he can't get her out of his mind. Having two sisters and strong mother Lorenzo knows how to treat a lady. He's a sexy carpenter who can make a girl weak in the knees. Cat has had a rough life but she's still positive and ready to step out of her shell. She's caring and the type of friend you'd love to have. Their connection and attraction is undeniable. Cat and Lorenzo fight the odds for their love to last as obstacles are thrown at them left and right. If you enjoy an amazing friends to lovers romance with some mystery and suspense thrown in, then I highly recommend reading Inherited Light!
Katie Mettner writes from a little house in the Northwoods of Wisconsin. She's the author of more than thirty romance novels, all featuring a disabled hero or heroine. Most of her series are set in the Midwest and are a mix of new adult and romantic suspense.
Katie lives with her soulmate, whom she met online on Thanksgiving and married the following April. Together they share their lives with their three children and one very special leopard gecko named Gibbs. Katie has a slight addiction to Twitter and blogging, with a lessening aversion to Pinterest now that she quit trying to make the things she pinned.
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