Double Dog Dare (The Raine Stockton Dog Mystery Series) Read Online Free Page B

company.”  She draped a companionable arm around Cisco’s shoulders and he obligingly licked her face.
    Miles winked at her.  “Good call, Champ.”
    We stopped at an outdoor café where I had the best caramelized onion and goat cheese pizza I had ever tasted—which I later learned was probably due to the shaved truffles on top—and Cisco had grilled salmon, hold the lemon butter. I’m not at all sure what Melanie had, and she probably wasn’t either, because, with the possible exception of the three and a half seconds it took Cisco to gulp down his salmon, she spent the entire time trying to distract him from his fascination with a yappy little bichon two tables down.  It was good dog-training experience for her. 
    It was exciting, being this far from home, but also a little unsettling.  The sky was so blue it hurt my eyes, even with the sunglasses, and I kept looking around for the mountains.  Without them I felt exposed. The air smelled different and the sun was hotter. The voices around me spoke in half a dozen different accents, and none of them were familiar to me.  But what struck me the most was how different the people were —svelte, sophisticated, beautifully groomed and perfectly put together, but for all that they were in what was arguably one of the most beautiful places in the world enjoying an exquisite gourmet meal with companions they presumably liked, none of them seemed particularly happy.  I, on the other hand, am I lot like a golden retriever in that respect: when I’m having a good time, people know it.  When I’m not, people know it.
    My golden retriever role model had finally given up on the bichon—or perhaps had succumbed to the excitement of the trip and the soporific heat—and was stretched out under the table on his back, letting me rub his furry belly with my bare foot.  “You know,” I observed to Miles, “I’m really very provincial.” That might have been considered stating the obvious, given the circumstances, but I was okay with that.
    “So you are,” Miles agreed. “One of the things I like best about you.”
    I didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered.  It was Melanie who pointed out, “I don’t think that’s a compliment, Dad.”
    “Of course it is.  I’m provincial too.”
    Melanie grinned at him around the straw of her virgin pina colada and inquired, “Am I?”
    He pretended to think about it.  “No.  You’re more sophisticated than either one of us.  One of the things I like best about you.”
    Melanie giggled.
    I liked seeing Miles in such a playful mood, and I could tell Melanie was enjoying his attention.  I was starting to think this trip had not been such a bad idea after all.  I sipped my own drink—also a virgin pina colada, which seemed to be made with ice cream and was actually better without the rum.  “ What I meant was,” I explained to Miles, “I don’t get out of the mountains nearly enough.  It’s a pretty big culture shock.  So why did you end up buying a place here?” I glanced around.  “This doesn’t really seem like your kind of crowd.”
    Not, I realized suddenly, that I had any real idea what his kind of crowd was.  Until now, we had only been together in my world—dog shows, mountain hikes, small town fairs—and he had always been comfortable there.  But what if this strange and shiny place with its sleek, bored-looking people was where he really belonged?
    But he reassured me in the next moment with a shrug. “I got the p roperty in foreclosure.  I’ll sell it in five years for three times what I paid, meanwhile it more than pays for its upkeep in the rent I get from rich tourists.  And the sailing is great.”
    Th at reminded me of what I had meant to ask him earlier.  “Miles, I’m curious.”
    “Another one of the things I like best about you.”  Behind his sunglasses, I could almost see his eyes twinkle, and Melanie giggled again.
    I went on, “Is it customary to close down an