Page 1 of Big Dog (Lonesome Garage #2)

Chapter One

I t’s mine. All mine. I’m now an official resident of the greater Lonesome area. Me, Rosemary Turner, landowner and business proprietress. My little girl self who dreamed of being a hairdresser would be so proud.

My sister, who has been handing out paper cups with some cheap, not-from-the-Champagne-region-of-France bubbly, gives me a bump when she comes to stand beside me.

“Attention, everyone. To Romy. Congratulations on your purchase of Camp Sunny-Lu. I know the Crosses are happy that it’s moved into such good hands.

We wish you all the haircuts and manicures in the world,” Violet says loyally as she hands me a glass.

She doesn’t mention herself or the woman standing with her. They are two of my silent partners; nobody but me and the lawyers know about them for now. As of today, I am the face of the Sunny-Lu Salon and Spa.

“Thank you very much, Violet, and thank you, everybody for coming out today. I hope to see everyone back at the Sunny-Lu Salon for a haircut when we open. Not that you all don’t already look amazing.

I’ll just help bring you up to the next level,” I say with a laugh.

The small crowd laughs too. I’ve already unofficially claimed the title of local hairdresser since I’ve been giving kitchen chair haircuts to half the women in Lonesome while I looked for a place to set up shop.

Now, with a little help from my friends and family, I’ll have an official place to do it.

The empty building is warm despite the open windows because air-conditioning is non-existent.

Since the entire interior is about to be thoroughly renovated and all my guests know it, nobody complains.

Some of them may be questioning my decision to open a salon and spa in an abandoned children’s summer camp but I know what I’m doing. I hope.

I continue my rounds, making sure to greet all the ladies from town and get introductions to the women I don’t know from the surrounding areas.

There are also a surprising number of men in attendance.

I don’t expect to see all of them in my chair for haircuts, but Violet lets me know that a few of them have approached her asking if I intend to offer gift cards for salon services.

I sure as hell am planning on it now. Nothing sounds better than making it easy for men to give me money while providing the perfect present to the women in their lives.

I whip out my phone and add “Gift Cards” to my endless to do list before I forget it.

Deep male laughter erupts from across the room.

I look up and see my future brother-in-law, Deacon, talking to his brother.

They both have brown hair and green eyes but that’s where the similarity ends.

His older brother, Bishop Dobermann, is a retired Army Ranger who is a few inches taller, a few inches wider across the chest, and a few degrees hotter.

I’d happily put him on my to-do list too.

Violet says Bishop is a lot more straight-laced than Deacon and is constantly pulling the pranksters in the garage back in line.

She makes solid and dependable sound boring.

I think it’s sexy as hell that he’s mature enough that he doesn’t need to swing his dick around to be respected.

We have met once before, but I don’t really remember it.

I blame the concussion. I have a vague memory of rough hands and soft touches, but that’s it.

I’m dying to know if the reality matches the hazy dream, but Bishop seems to be avoiding me.

Seeing him, I realize that I haven’t even seen him at a distance since that night.

Deacon gives me a chance to get close when he calls me over to join him and the other men from the Lonesome Garage. When I get there, Deke pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and waves it in my face. “What is this?” he demands.

“I don’t know. Hold it still.” When the letters stop moving, I frown. “That’s my flyer requesting contractor referrals. I posted it on the bulletin board in Carol’s Laundrette. It’s not doing me any good in your pocket, Deacon.”

“I took it down to save you time. Why deal with all the trouble of talking to every contractor in the state when one man can set you up with the best of the best?”

I need somebody to check the roofs of the buildings, another to fix cracked and broken windowpanes, an electrician, and a plumber to go over long unused utilities. That’s just to start. “Why? Do you know somebody?”

“God, you’re a ballbuster. I’m surprised you don’t try to do everything yourself. Yes, I know somebody. You know him too.” Then he points to Bishop. “He’s your man.”

Bishop chokes on his mouthful of Prosecco and turns an alarming shade of red.

I was looking for an excuse. The man is gorgeous, smart, and drama-free.

Plus, he’s former military so I know he’s trained and self-sufficient enough to take care of himself.

Bishop is precisely my type without the problem of a chain of command to consider.

And, thanks to my awesome almost-brother-in-law, he’s being served up on a silver platter. “Excellent,” I say.