Pardon My Frenchie

33

Ashanti sprayed a mixture of peppermint and clove oil on the terrycloth blanket that she’d hung on the back fence at Barkingham Palace. After saturating it, she added it to the pile of others. She had done the same with every piece of bedding she’d taken from the suite where one of their new clients, an Afghan hound, had spent the night. All would have to be scalded, washed twice, and bleached before they could be used again.

The owner had obviously lied about her dog being on flea prevention, because when Colleen went in for the morning feeding, the enclosed suite was overwhelmed with fleas. Which meant every suite in that section of the daycare would need to be treated.

This was why they’d vetted their clients so thoroughly in the early days, and why they needed to get back to being more selective when deciding which pets to keep. The influx of people wanting to board their dogs was nice and all, but it had come with its own issues. She was not about to compromise the integrity she’d built into this place over the last three years just to make a quick buck.

Ashanti had ordered that all dogs be given free baths before leaving today. Barkingham Palace’s reputation wouldn’t be worth anything if one of their dogs brought home fleas.

Yet, despite a morning consumed with ridding the daycare of a potential infestation, Ashanti could not stop this stupid smile from spreading across her face. It was just one of the outcomes of waking up in Thad’s arms. Another was the R-rated movie that continued to play in her mind with scenes from everything that had taken place in his bed last night.

She had to stop this. If any of her staff came out here right now, they would know exactly what she was thinking about. Her freckles would give her away.

Her phone rang. She pulled it out and frowned in confusion at the sight of the daycare’s number.

“Deja?” she answered.

“Boss Lady, I tried to call you on the intercom, but you didn’t answer.”

“I’m still outside spraying down the bedding from the Frogmore Suite,” she said.

“Anita is on her way back there. And she is pissed.”

Just then, the back door opened and her “guest” came marching down the steps. Ashanti finally found something that would remove the smile from her face.

“Hi, Anita,” she said flatly. She refused to even pretend she was excited to see her. “Do you need something?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Anita crossed her bony arms over her chest and thrust her right hip forward. “I need to know who is taking care of my nieces while you’re living it up in New York City with some man and staying in the same hotel with him.”

“Excuse me?” Ashanti set the spray bottle on the ground. “That was a work trip.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve seen the type of men you deem acceptable, and I don’t want any of them around my nieces.”

And, just like that, Ashanti decided she was done.

She had allowed this woman and her threats to control her life for long enough. The girls were sixteen, not twelve, and that incident with Simon had nothing to do with her life today. The chance of a judge revoking her guardianship simply because she was in a relationship was so slight that it barely registered. She had been so afraid of losing Kara and Kendra that she had been unwilling to take any chances, but she was done giving Anita such power over her life.

And if she did take Ashanti to court, there was no way a judge would look at Thad—an upstanding Army veteran and future business owner—and think that he posed a potential danger to her sisters.

“Even if it wasn’t a work trip, it’s none of your business where I go or who I spend time with,” Ashanti told her.

“It is when you’re the person who is supposed to be taking care of my brother’s children.”

“If my dad wanted you to raise the girls, he would have made that known. But he didn’t, did he?”

“It was a mistake that I’m sure has him turning over in his grave.” Anita huffed. “Going off to New York, and leaving those girls in that house all by themselves last night.”

Ashanti felt her face grow hot. “What did you say?”

“Yes, I called last night when I didn’t see your car there,” Anita continued. “That one with the smart mouth said you were spending the night with your boyfriend.”

Dammit, Kara.

Knowing her sister, she’d shared that with the sole purpose of getting under Anita’s skin, even though Ashanti had specifically told them not to tell anyone. All she did was give her aunt more ammunition.

“What are you doing snooping around my house?” she asked Anita.

“Someone needs to be concerned about those girls.”

“Kara and Kendra know that I am only a phone call away.”

“Would you even answer the phone if you’re laid up under some man?”

Line. Crossed.

Ashanti closed the distance between them, until she was barely a foot way. “Apparently, you didn’t hear me the first time,” she said. “Who I fuck is none of your business.”

Anita gasped, her head snapping back. Her mouth opened and closed but no words came out.

“I should petition the courts!” she finally screeched. “Get those girls away from you.”

“Try it,” Ashanti said.

“You shouldn’t be raising my brother’s children!”

“I am tired of your bullshit, Anita. You hadn’t talked to your ‘beloved’ brother for over three years before he died. I know my dad tried to contact you, and you ignored him.”

“He was not your father!”

“Fuck you! He is my father. He loved me and treated me like his own flesh and blood. You, on the other hand, who actually was his flesh and blood, didn’t want anything to do with him until he was buried in the ground. And all because he took your mother’s dishes.”

“It was her wedding china and it was mine!” Anita said. “And it has nothing to do with you.”

“No, it doesn’t. I don’t care why you cut your own brother out of your life. What I do care about are my sisters. You talk about wanting to raise Kara and Kendra? You live an hour away and saw them five times in the first ten years of their lives.

“I know what this is, it’s guilt,” Ashanti continued. “But you don’t get to alleviate the shame and regret you feel at the way you treated your own brother by making my sisters’ lives hell.”

Ashanti took several steps back. Her chest rose and fell with the deep breaths she pulled in and blew out. When she could finally speak, she issued a warning: “Unless you have a dog to board, you’re trespassing. Leave my place of business or I’m calling the police.”

Anita’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t say another word. She turned and marched away, leaving the stench of indignation in her wake.

Ashanti walked over to the wooden fence and leaned her forehead against it, flexing her fingers to relieve the rage still flooding her senses.

Let Anita try to take her to court. She was ready for her.

Her phone rang. It was the daycare’s number again.

Ashanti closed her eyes. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to know.

But she couldn’t ignore the call.

“Yes, Deja?” she answered.

“Uh, Boss Lady?” Deja asked in a cautious voice. “I know this is probably a bad time, based on the way Atilla the Hun stomped out of here a minute ago, but you said you would handle reception while I bring P. J.’s cookie cake to school.”

“Yes, of course,” Ashanti said. She’d encouraged Deja to take the day off to celebrate her eight-year-old’s birthday. She was now grateful her receptionist had turned down the offer, choosing to bring a cookie cake to school to share with the class instead. “I’ll be up there in just a minute.”

Ashanti made the decision then and there to put Anita and her threats out of her mind. Whether they were empty or not, she would deal with it later.

She had a business to run.