Triple Dog Dare, page 1
Triple Dog Dare
Synopsis
Sasha Wolfe has been talking up her new girlfriend to her overbearing mother for months, and when her skeptical sister dares her to invite this new squeeze over for family Christmas, Sasha accepts the challenge. After all, how hard can it be to bring your nonexistent girlfriend home for the holidays?
Triple Dog Dare
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By the Author
Romances
Turning the Page
Thy Neighbor’s Wife
Too Close to Touch
Fresh Tracks
Mine
Finding Home
Starting from Scratch
96 Hours
Slices of Life
Snow Globe
Olive Oil & White Bread
Zero Visibility
A Little Bit of Spice
What Matters Most
Right Here, Right Now
Blend
The Shape of You
Calendar Girl
The Do-Over
Fear of Falling
One Walk in Winter
Flavor of the Month
Hopeless Romantic
16 Steps to Forever
The Secret Poet
Cherry on Top
The Puppy Love Romances
Rescued Heart
Run to You
Dare to Stay
The Swizzle Stick Romances
Shaken or Stirred
On the Rocks
With a Twist
Triple Dog Dare
© 2020 By Georgia Beers. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-63679-339-3
This Electronic Original Is Published By
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: December 2020
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Ruth Sternglantz
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design by Tammy Seidick
eBook Design by Toni Whitaker
Chapter One
“Are you kidding me? Now? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I didn’t mean right this very second—”
“Oh no. I heard you. I heard you loud and very fucking clear.”
That was the conversation I heard through my apartment wall, punctuated with some tiny yips from the new puppy I hadn’t seen yet but had heard a lot, and the slamming of what sounded like drawers, as I put on my coat and gathered my things for work. I’d actually been listening to a very pleasant internal monologue in my head about what a great year we’d had before Neighbor Number Two had gone on her tirade. Excuse me, her fucking tirade. Poor Neighbor Number One—whose name I was pretty sure was Kennedy. I had no idea what she said or did that caused Two to question whether or not she was fucking kidding, but it sounded bad. I had known for a while—for the three months that Two had been living next door with One—that I would not want to be on Two’s fucking bad side.
I shook my head and smothered a smile as I opened my door and stepped out into the hall, thinking, This is why I’m single. As luck would have it, the next door down opened too. With a slam. I winced as I thought about the divot the doorknob had likely made in the drywall but pretended to fiddle with my keys so that I could listen a bit. Yeah, I like gossip. Sue me.
“No, you absolutely meant now. I can see it in your eyes.” It was Neighbor Number Two, and she was pissed. And loud. And had a beat-up blue canvas duffel bag over one shoulder that looked full and heavy. Her blond hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, a wide fabric headband only adding to the severity.
“Cara, just calm down for a minute…”
I cringed silently. Didn’t everybody know the very last thing you told a woman in the throes of a meltdown was to calm down? I could almost feel the heat from down the hall, certain that Two was shooting flames from her eyeballs at One, but too scared to look, lest I be accidentally caught in the crossfire and obliterated into charcoal.
“Do. Not. Tell. Me. To. Calm. Down.” Yup, about the response I expected. “How fucking dare you?”
I risked a glance, only because I wanted to make sure One wasn’t a pile of ash on the floor, but she wasn’t. In fact, she stood in the doorway, holding what looked to be a Yorkie, and rather than looking upset or like a woman trying to dig her way out of the hole she’d found herself in, she just looked bored. Maybe a little tired. And totally over Number Two. I couldn’t say that I blamed her.
“Look,” she said, and I caught a glimpse of her red hair and the sympathetic tilt of her head before forcing myself to return to my little key performance. “Come back in and we can talk about it—”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Clearly. All I needed was a little help from somebody who knows me, somebody who cares—or who I thought cared—but apparently, that’s asking too much.”
“You said you needed a place to stay for a couple weeks.” One’s voice was calm and even, and I felt a healthy respect for her not letting Two get to her enough to make her shout back. “We were together for over a year, you said. You knew me once, remember? I just need a little help. A couple weeks. That’s all. Please?” One’s impression of Two was shockingly good. I unzipped my purse and began to rifle through it as if I was missing something. “Those were your exact words, and that was months ago. Months.” When Two didn’t reply immediately, One added, “You maxed out my credit cards. All three of them.” Oh, that was a big yikes.
“Listen, if I’d have known buying Christmas gifts was a crime…” The wind was slowly coming out of Two’s sails. I could hear it in the way her outrage seemed to suddenly dim.
“You bought Christmas gifts for yourself.”
“I bought you Yorkie!” Two pointed at the dog, who yipped as if on cue.
“You bought Yorkie for you. Just because I ended up being the one to feed him, walk him, and clean up every damn thing he chews into teeny, tiny bits, that doesn’t make him mine. And Yorkie is not his name, it’s the kind of dog he is, for God’s sake!” One was starting to lose her cool, and I had to bite down on my lips to keep the laugh inside. She’d named her Yorkie Yorkie? Classic.
“It’s whatever,” Two said and waved her hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. “’Cause he’s yours now. I can’t exactly have a dog living on the fucking streets with me, now can I?” Shouldering her giant bag with a huff, she lumbered down the hall to the elevator and pushed the button. Then the three of us stood there while she waited for it to arrive. I could’ve gotten on it with her, but at the moment, being in a tiny, enclosed, inescapable space with her was just about the last thing on earth I wanted to do. All that bad energy. I could wait.
The ding came finally. Two looked back at One—still standing in the doorway with Yorkie—gave a little snarl, and got on the elevator. Once the doors slid shut, it was as if it was suddenly safe for us both to move. One and I both let out audible breaths, then made eye contact and grinned at each other.
“Well,” I said. “That looked like fun. Friend of yours?” I tried to sound light, joking. One looked like she could use some levity.
“My ex. From about a hundred years ago. Or six months. I’m not sure which.” Then she dropped her head back and let out a sound that was a combination groan and laugh. It made Yorkie’s ears prick up, and he licked her chin. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that.”
“I’m not,” I said. “It made me feel like an exceptionally reasonable person.”
One grinned, then inhaled slowly and let it out. “Man, she just sucks all the air out of the room, doesn’t she?”
She stepped out more fully into the hall. I didn’t know her, but she was not new to me. She’d caught my eye immediately when she’d moved in last February, and I’d seen her many times since, considering A) she lived on my floor, and B) she was a lot of fun to look at. She was extremely attractive, pretty. Her hair was a soft red, her eyes large and blue. She had a cute little cleft in her chin, a great smile.
“And all the attention, apparently,” I said, “because how did I not notice your lovely dress from Colonial times?” I grinned as I took in her light gray dress with the long skirt and white apron. “Are you headed out to churn butter later?”
She looked down at her outfit and laughed outright. “Oh my God! I forgot I was wearing this. I brought it home to do a few alterations. I’m playing Mrs. Cratchit tonight, and we have a dress rehearsal this morning. For A Christmas Carol?”
“I’m aware of who Mrs. Cratchit is,” I said but gave a wink to make sure she knew I wasn’t being a dick. “You’re an actress?”
“Drama teacher. Over at the college. But my Mrs. Cratchit got the flu and gave it to her understudy, so it’ll be me stepping in.”
“Saving Christmas,” I said.
Her face grew more serious. “I don’t know if my Christmas can be saved.” Her gaze went to the elevator, then far away for a moment. I was afraid to interrupt her, but she literally shook herself, and that serious face mostly evaporated. “I need to find some quick cash, or nobody’s getting anything from me for Christmas, including the landlord, the cable company, and Verizon.” She said it lightly, with a shrug like it was no big deal, but the brightness of her eyes had dimmed enough for me to know it was serious. I felt the itch to help her. Not that I would jump right in and offer money to a stranger. It was just that her eyes…something in them made me want to wrap her up and protect her from the world. Or at the very least, from shrieking, overemotional exes. “Anyway. Sorry to have been so loud this morning. It won’t happen again. I don’t think we’ve ever officially met, which is ridiculous since we live twenty-five feet apart.” She stuck out her hand. “Kennedy Davis.”
“Sasha Wolfe.” I put my hand in hers. Her grip was somehow both gentle and firm, her skin, soft and warm. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” When she let go, I lifted a hand to the dog still in her arms, who had remained surprisingly quiet during our exchange. “Hi, Yorkie.” I scratched his ear. He gave me a lick, then yipped, startling me. I’d jinxed it, obviously.
“Don’t be fooled by this sweet face,” Kennedy said. “He’s already sizing up everything you’re carrying and wearing, trying to decide what to destroy first.” Yorkie turned and swiped his tongue across Kennedy’s face once more. She grabbed his little chin and shook it gently. “Looks like I’m stuck with you. Or you’re stuck with me. Not sure which.” She turned those eyes back to me, and I noticed how the deep blue irises were ringed in black. “Hey, have a great day, Sasha. And if you think of a better name for this guy, he and I are open to suggestions.” With that, she retreated back into her apartment and closed the door, and I was left alone in the hallway.
Well. That was the most exciting morning I’ve had in a very long time.
I headed for the elevator.
* * *
I own a real estate agency, in case you were wondering. Wolfe Realty. It’s very successful, if I do say so myself. Last year, I was awarded small business owner of the year by my city, which was a pretty cool honor. But that success came from a ton of work and a hell of a lot of sacrifice. Just ask my exes.
In December, there are only two kinds of clients. The first one is in no hurry at all. Time doesn’t matter because the holidays are coming and people are busy with other stuff and there’s so much to do, so let’s just wait until after the first of the year. The second one is in the biggest hurry you can possibly imagine because, unlike the other kind of client, this client wants everything done by the first of the year. Bank approval, inspections, papers signed. Everything. So while the first client is sitting back, feet up on the desk, and sipping eggnog, the second client is running around like a crazy person about to keel over from a stress-induced heart attack.
No happy medium, which is rough on my agents.
It had been a hell of a Tuesday. It was two and a half weeks until Christmas, and I had been going nonstop all day. Phone calls, emails, meetings, agent updates, agent questions, new clients, old clients. By the time I got a chance to sit down at my desk, my phone pinged, and the group text that included me and my two sisters was active.
Picking up the new table tonight. My older sister, Melody. S, you still owe your part. Damn. I’d forgotten to send her money, as the three of us had gone in on a new dining room set for our mother.
Venmoing now, I typed back, then made sure to do exactly that before I got distracted and completely forgot. Something I had a habit of doing, according to Melody.
Had lunch w Mom today. That was from Cat, my younger sister. She and Melody both still lived in the small town of Bakerton, where we’d grown up. I moved to the city of Northwood after college and had hardly looked back. I wasn’t that far away—about a two-hour drive—but I’d become…let’s say less than good at spending time with my mother, especially since my father had passed away a little more than a year ago.
And? Melody and I both sent the same question about half a second apart.
A little quiet, but okay. Cat sent a smiling emoji after that, and it was ridiculous how much that stupid yellow circle could make me feel better. I think she’s looking forward to Christmas this year.
Now that was a surprise.
Really? Melody asked before I had a chance.
She would like us all there for Christmas Eve. With significant others.
Uh-oh. I didn’t like where that was going.
You mean me with my husband and you with your boyfriend and Sasha with a cardboard cutout of her make-believe girlfriend? Jennifer, was it? Melody didn’t disappoint with her text, even though I’d known it was coming, had seen it from a mile away. She then sent about fifty-seven laughing emoji.
She’s not make believe! I typed. I’ve been telling you that for six months now.
Then bring her.
I stared at Melody’s words. It was like they taunted me. Cat remained silent, choosing the path she always did: staying out of it and watching from the sidelines. Probably munching on popcorn.
I’ll ask. She’s likely working, but I can run it by her. I bit my bottom lip and stared at the phone, my thumb hovering over the send button for way too long. When I saw the gray dots bouncing, telling me Melody was typing, I pressed, just to beat her to the punch.
“Likely working.” Shocking. The quotation marks Melody used pissed me off, I admit it.
Didn’t you say she’s an interior designer? Cat this time. Why would she have to work? I cursed my little sister, who had a memory like a steel trap and could recall exact conversations word for word. She was not a woman you wanted to get into a war of that’s-not-what-I-said with. Ever. I suspected her question was innocent, not meant to provoke more from Melody, but that’s exactly what it did.
Good question, Melody sent before I even had a chance to think of a response.
I said I’d ask her, I typed. It sounded childish even without any tone of voice, and I knew it.
I dare you to bring Jennifer to Christmas Eve at Mom’s.
And there it was. Melody wasn’t playing around.
The first thing you should know about my sister Melody: she has a thing about being right. She’s like a bloodhound on a scent if she thinks she’s correct about something, and you’d better tell her the truth or get the hell out of the way while she digs it up. Because she will dig it up. Melody had long suspected there was no girlfriend. That I had completely invented Jennifer in order to appease my mother, who wanted nothing more than for me to settle down and be happy.
I must have taken too long to respond because the next words Melody sent were the final nail in my coffin.
I TRIPLE DOG DARE YOU to bring her. Complete with caps.
Well, shit.
I stared at the phone. The three of us watched the movie A Christmas Story every year at our parents’ house. It was tradition at this point. We had dinner, got to open one gift, then cuddled up together in the family room and watched TV as a trio. If you’re not familiar with it, the triple dog dare is the queen mother of all dares. There are rules, an order to things, but just like in the film, when Schwartz dared Flick to touch his tongue to a metal pole outside in the cold, Melody had skipped over several steps and went right for the triple dog dare.
I stared at the phone some more, weighing my options…except there weren’t any.
Hello? Melody texted, and I could picture her, victorious smirk on her face, knowing she had me.
Fine, I typed. I’ll bring her. I’ll bring Jennifer to Mom’s for Christmas. Happy now? I snarled quietly as I hit send.
There was a pause, which gave me a quick boost of happiness, knowing that my agreement wasn’t at all what Melody had been expecting. Another beat went by before her text came.
Yes.
That was it. Just that one word. I puffed my chest up in great satisfaction at having shut my big sister completely down. It didn’t happen often, so when it did, it was cause for celebration. I stood up from my desk and did a little football dance around my office, only stopping when I noticed Brooke, my top sales agent, watching with an amused look on her face. I stopped. Sat back down.
