Perfect Partners
Perfect Partners
Sara Wright knows better than to fall for a cop.
For Sara, an elite police dog trainer for the federal government, attractive women in uniform are an occupational hazard. But she gave her heart to a coworker once before and the battle scars from that failed relationship are still fresh. She dodges every chance at romance with the officers she trains, focusing her energy on turning out the finest handler-canine teams in the country. But when annoyingly perky, unfairly sexy Isabel Marquez arrives at Homeland Security’s Northeast Regional Training facility brimming with excitement and a surprising desire to succeed, Sara’s good intentions start to falter. She can’t help being drawn to Isabel’s enthusiasm, and, okay, her long dark hair and brilliant smile don’t hurt either. Keeping their contact limited to friendship is harder than she thought. When it comes to enforcing her own rules of the heart, Sara might need to break a few for a chance at forever.
Praise for Maggie Cummings
Against All Odds
“This story tugged at my heartstrings, and it hit all the right notes for me because these wonderful authors allowed me to peep into the hearts and minds of the characters. The vivid descriptions of Peyton, Tory, and the perpetrator’s personalities allowed me to have a deeper understanding of what makes them tick, and I was able to form a clear picture of them in my mind.”—The Lesbian Review
“Against All Odds is equal parts thriller and romance; the balance between action and love, fast and slow pace makes this novel a very entertaining read.”—Lez Review Books
Definite Possibility
“I enjoyed this book, well written with well-developed characters, including some familiar faces from the previous book in the series. The leads had good chemistry and the angst level was just right. It was an enjoyable read for a quiet afternoon.”—Melina Bickard, Librarian, Waterloo Library (UK)
“[T]wo parallel romances give a quick pace to the book with more drama and romance…But what I really liked is that the story goes beyond both romances and is a tale of friendship, family and love. Overall, a heartwarming and feel-good story with a bit of drama on the side.”—Lez Review Books
Totally Worth It
“This book was absolutely delightful…A sweet story about love and friendship.”—My Fiction Nook
“[I]t was…really nice reading about people going through the same transitory period in their lives that I, and many other twenty-somethings, also are…By the end of the book, I was a little jealous that I didn’t live in Bay West like the characters. Needless to say, I was pretty pleased when I found out that this was going to be a series because Bay West has so much potential given the setting and the diverse cast of characters already in play. After a very solid first novel, I can’t wait to see where Cummings takes us next.”—Read All About Queer Lit
Perfect Partners
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Perfect Partners
© 2019 By Maggie Cummings. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13:978-1-63555-364-2
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: February 2019
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 Sheri (hindsightgraphics@gmail.com)
By the Author
Totally Worth It
Serious Potential
Definite Possibility
Against All Odds
(with Kris Bryant and M. Ullrich)
Perfect Partners
Acknowledgments
Once again, my sincerest thanks to Rad and Sandy for giving me the opportunity to be part of such a wonderful company and community. To the entire team at Bold Strokes Books, thank you for everything you do. It is an honor to be part of something so special.
Writing can be such a solitary venture, and yet this book felt like a team effort. I have so many wonderful people in my life, and I am grateful to be so fortunate. Immeasurable thanks to Kat, Caleb, and Abby for always believing in me, encouraging me, and supporting me every step of the way. A special shout out to Abby, who helped me name every single dog in this book, and to my own pup, Zach, who sat next to me (or on my laptop) for continued inspiration throughout.
I would be lost without my BSB family. My most heartfelt thanks to my amazing editor, Ruth Sternglantz, who has boundless wisdom, patience, guidance, and enthusiasm and has the uncanny ability to deliver each at the perfect moment. Huge hugs to Kris, Megan, and Aurora for always pushing me, believing in me, keeping me laughing and smiling, and for being great friends and amazing people.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I’d like to especially thank Captain John Kerwick and the MTA Police K-9 division for affording me the opportunity to spend time at their training facility, ask a thousand questions, and observe the dogs and their handlers at work. Without these officers, human and canine alike, this book would not have been possible. Thank you for all you do, every day. Stay safe.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my extended family: Stu, Ron, Dottie and the Kerns—you. You! Thank you all for your support. Always.
For Bernie Bal, my hero
Chapter One
“Eyes on me.”
Sara resisted the urge to look at the car approaching up the long gravel drive. It was important to set a good example, and damned if she was going to sacrifice progress for a lost driver. Her voice was just above a whisper, the tone gentle but firm. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to stay focused.” Her eyes were fixed and steady and she spoke with a balance of confidence and affection. “We’re going to see who’s lost in just one…more…second,” she said, dragging out the sentence to test her student’s patience.
Sweet brown eyes locked with hers in a stare so sincere it melted her right on the spot. Sara smiled and watched as Chase’s eyebrows furrowed hopefully, his jaw dropping open with a heavy pant as he sought approval for his deft adherence to her instruction. Sara knew he wanted to run to the car and investigate, and she could hardly blame him. It was barely seven in the morning, the campus quiet, save a few earlybirds like herself. It was still hours away from real activity at the training facility.
Chase held his position, and proud of his progress, Sara rewarded him with a tender scratch between the ears. “You’re a good boy,” she said. The dog relished the attention, seeming almost to smile at her touch. She rubbed under his chin softly, holding his face as she spoke. “Now don’t go getting your hopes up,” she said playfully. “It’s just going to be another desperate soul in need of help because their GPS can’t hold a signal in these woods. We still have work to do. But let’s see what’s up.” She patted his head. “Go,” she commanded as she dropped the lead and peered over her shoulder, surprised to see an NYPD cruiser making its way up the hill. The patrol car was moving at a glacial pace, the driver almost making the turn into the visitors’ lot but then redirecting at the last minute, seeming uncertain where to go. Finally, the car came to a complete stop in
the middle of the road. “What could this be about?” Sara asked herself under her breath as she racked her brain to remember the day’s schedule.
Even though curiosity was killing her, Sara took her time walking over to the vehicle, using the opportunity to watch the dog’s approach. He circled the marked car once, sniffing at it continuously. When the door opened, a female driver emerged, and Chase wasted no time tracing his nose up and down her legs before putting his front paws up on the vinyl seat and poking his head inside to get a good whiff. Sara smiled at his perfect instincts.
“Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you,” she called across the short distance.
“Can I pet him?” the stranger asked.
“Sure.”
Sara studied the woman’s body language and smiled when she dropped to both knees and showered the dog with affection, talking directly to him. Most people freaked at the mere thought of a German shepherd barreling toward them. But this woman showed no fear. Dog people—she couldn’t help but have a weakness for them. Her guard dropped immediately.
“Can I help you?” Sara asked as she got closer.
“I hope so.” The woman stood up and brushed dirt off the knees of her dark blue BDUs. She straightened her shoulders and nudged her chin upright, as if presenting herself for inspection. Her dark brown eyes were bright and hopeful as she spoke. “I’m looking for Miss Wright,” she said emphatically, her voice a mix of excitement and anticipation, and Sara couldn’t keep her coy grin under control. “Oh my God,” the officer added, realizing what she’d said right away. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, it is, but not like that.” She shook her head and bit her lower lip, her cheeks dimpling at her unintentional play on words. “Wright with a W,” she corrected, adding a delightful self-deprecating eye roll.
Sara dove in to save her. “Happens all the time.” At thirty-four years old, she’d endured enough Miss Right jokes to last a lifetime. These days, she ignored such comments, the pun mostly coming from men—but sometimes women—deliberate and pathetic in their weak attempts to use her surname to their advantage. But this moment felt entirely different than those interactions. Whether it was the result of a boring weekend spent in solitude or an insufficient amount of caffeine for her brain to function properly at this early hour, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was simply the source. An adorable, dog-loving brunette in full police gear was enough to make anyone swoon, right? Whatever the reason, she felt herself fighting the urge to flirt, and she stopped herself from telling the cute officer to look no further. Blinking the thought away, she composed herself and cleared her throat, trading her unexpected desire for professionalism. “I’m Sara Wright.”
“Oh, good.” The woman let out a deep breath in relief. “Isabel Marquez.” She touched her own chest before thrusting her hand toward Sara. Sara accepted the greeting, shaking the woman’s hand even though—despite the introduction—Sara had no idea what she was doing at the training facility. Isabel must’ve read the confusion in her expression. “From the NYPD,” she said, seeming confidently optimistic saying the name of her police department might jog Sara’s memory.
Sara was still clueless. “Sorry,” she offered, furrowing her brows in a kind of apology. “Are you here for a class or something?”
“Yes. Well, sort of.” Isabel stroked the dog’s head as she spoke. “I was just assigned to the K-9 class. The one for explosive detection dogs.”
Now Sara was full-on confused. The K-9 explosives class started in a week and she’d had the roster for months. There were no female NYPD officers registered, of that she was sure. She had the breakdown of prospective handlers committed to memory. There were eight federal agents, two cops from small local police departments, two sheriff’s officers from Florida, and one cop from the NYPD. Sara couldn’t quite recall his name, but she remembered his pedigree—a ten-year vet who’d be getting his first canine partner.
“Are you sure you’re in that class?” she asked. “Maybe you’re assigned to a different training location.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m in the right spot,” Isabel responded quickly. “This is the Northeast Regional Training Facility at Overton?” The wind whipped her long brown hair in her face and she tried to tuck it behind her ears, looking anxious as she shook her head. “The guy from my job who was slated to be here…his wife got sick. Cancer, I heard. He had to back out at the last minute.”
This was news to Sara. Her head spun as she tried to figure out how a complete switch had gone down without her knowledge or input.
“Anyway, I’m here in his place.” Isabel’s voice rattled, her nerves clearly escalating. “My boss told me you’d know I was coming.” She licked her lips repeatedly. “I feel like kind of a jerk right now, seeing you clearly had no idea.” Her hair blew in her face again and she huffed, trying in vain to hold it back with one hand. “I was putting my hair up when I pulled in here and I hit a pothole. I dropped my clip.” She sounded flustered. “Excuse me for just a second.”
She kneeled on the front seat, bending over as she searched the floorboard with both hands. Sara waited, trying to divert her eyes from Isabel’s behind perfectly outlined in the uniform cargo-style pants.
Finding her clip, Isabel planted herself in the driver’s seat and stole a glance in the rearview as she pulled her hair off her face. Grabbing a folder from the console, she attempted to stand but the wind had other plans, railing against the open door, pushing it into her with force enough to knock her back into the seat. “Jesus.” She grasped the door frame for balance.
“Are you okay?” Sara stifled a laugh as she reached forward to help her.
“I’m fine. Sorry.” Isabel waved her off. She stood up and closed the door behind her, leaning on it as she opened her manila folder. Immediately, the top page blew out. She stomped on it, smashing it into the ground.
“Nice reflexes,” Sara said with a chuckle.
“Except now it’s a mess.” Isabel reached down and dusted the dirt and gravel off the top page of her application. “I’m a mess.” She shook her head at herself. “I’m not usually a disaster. I swear.”
“You’re fine. Relax.” Sara hoped her smile showed her sentiment was real.
Pointing to a yellow Post-it on the inside of the folder, Isabel leaned toward her and in the breeze Sara caught a hint of her lovely light scent.
“It says here to report to Sara Wright,” Isabel said. “There was another name in here somewhere.” Her eyes scanned quickly. “There it is. Special Agent John Dixon.”
“Now that makes sense.” Sara nodded. “John’s in charge of the program. I just run the dogs. So odd you were told to find me.” She frowned, brushing it off. “Anyhow, John—that’s Agent Dixon—he’s inside. Come on, I’ll take you.”
Glancing down at the dog who was nudging her hand for attention, Isabel asked, “Does this sweetie get to come too?”
“This is Chase. And absolutely he gets to come with.”
“Chase,” Isabel repeated. “That’s a cool name. Because he likes to run after squirrels and stuff?” she asked, her eyes wide, before she added an enthusiastic, “Oh, wait”—she popped her head up—“it’s because he’ll chase the perps, right?”
Sara smiled. “Actually he’s named after a cop. All our dogs are named for heroes who’ve made the ultimate sacrifice in the line of duty.” She stroked Chase’s head. “This guy is named for one of yours. An NYPD officer—Sebastian Chaiskovanich.”
“Of course,” Isabel’s voice dropped and she diverted her eyes. “Everyone called him Chase. Because no one could pronounce his name.”
“Did you know him?”
“Hardly.” She chewed her lower lip. “He was in transit division, though. Like me. I worked with him a few times. Nice guy.” She covered half her face with one hand. “I’m an idiot. Saying Chase’s name was cool.”
“How would you know?” Sara offered, letting her off the hook right away. She studied Isabel for a brief second. Dark brown hair, almost black. L
ong, thick, and full of body even pulled up away from her face. Eyes to match. Expressive and rich, an exquisite brown, their hue darker than any she’d seen, framed by incredible lashes. They were plain yet captivating and Sara felt herself getting lost in them. Her sincerity was also appealing. Even in this moment it was apparent she felt awful at minimizing her colleague’s death, however inadvertently.
Sara longed to break the tension, make Isabel feel better about the exchange, about the whole morning.
As though she was reading her thoughts Isabel muttered, “I want a do-over on this whole day.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.” She reached down to pet Chase and her hand brushed over Isabel’s, the touch sending an unexpected chill up her forearm. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you squared away. I’ll introduce you to John. There’s a pile of paperwork to complete before class starts on Monday.”
With an outstretched hand for Sara to lead the way, Isabel said, “I’ll follow you.” Sara watched her turn and fall in step next to her and Chase, the spirit of her early morning smile beginning to return. Sara hated to deflate her again.
“Just one thing, Isabel,” she said.
“Please, call me Izzy.”
“Sure, Izzy.” Sara bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to conceal her grin. “You should probably park your car.” She hunched her shoulders and squinted, making a playful eek face.