Don't Dream It's Rover Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Misty Simon

  Don’t Dream It’s Rover

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “Sweetie, even the dead can’t miss hearing you when you scream like that. Calm down.” Her mother, dead for over ten years, stuck her head and an arm out of the Victrola on the mahogany table inside the foyer and waggled a finger at Mel.

  Mel barely resisted rolling her eyes. She did not need her mother interfering right now, especially if she was going to have to have words with Becker about how she was most definitely not keeping a dog in this house. Especially not a dog who was currently drooling on her best jelly shoes. Ew!

  “Mumford, where are you?” she heard Becker call from the back of the house. Mumford? What kind of dog name was that? Becker had better be ready to do some serious explaining. And to take this dog with him when he left after dinner.

  “In here,” she yelled. Getting the waggling finger from her mom again was more than worth the release hollering gave her. The dog whipped its head around when Becker came trotting down the hallway. The front-end hydraulics started again, and its tail was wagging so fast it was a blur.

  “Oh, hey.” Becker crouched down and gave the pup a vigorous scratching. Fido, or Mumford, as Becker called him, promptly lay on his side and continued with the tail wagging, although now it was thumping on her carpet hard enough to vibrate the floor under her feet.

  No kiss for her, no real hello, just a “hey” and scratching for the dog. Maybe they were further along in their relationship than she’d realized.

  Praise for Misty Simon

  POISON IVY: “I loved this book. I was laughing during most of it.”

  ~Rae, My Book Addiction and More (4.5 rating)

  THE WRONG DRAWERS: “…a sass filled, one-two punch of delightfully quirky humor and intriguing mystery.”

  ~Jacki King, bestselling author

  WHAT’S LIFE WITHOUT THE SPRINKLES?: “Ms. Simon’s writing has warmth, her characters seem like real people, and her plotting drew me in…”

  ~Angie Just Read, The Romance Reviews

  “If you enjoy romance stories about two people burned by relationships gone bad…then look no further.”

  ~Xeranthemum, Long and Short Reviews (4.5 Books)

  ~*~

  Misty Simon’s books at The Wild Rose Press:

  The Kissinger Kisses Series

  What’s Life Without the Sprinkles?

  Making Room at the Inn

  Go Ahead, Make My Bouquet

  Christmas in Kissinger

  The Ivy Morris Mysteries

  Poison Ivy

  The Wrong Drawers

  Something Old, Something Dead

  Frame and Fortune

  For Love and Cheesecake

  Adventures in Ghostsitting

  Desperately Seeking Salvage

  Don’t Dream It’s Rover

  Don’t Dream

  It’s Rover

  by

  Misty Simon

  Adventures in Ghostsitting, Book 2

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Don’t Dream It’s Rover

  COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Misty Simon

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Mainstream Fantasy Rose Edition, 2017

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1398-6

  Adventures in Ghostsitting, Book 2

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To Nan, who gave my ghosties a chance,

  and to all the readers—

  THANK YOU!

  Chapter One

  Barking greeted Mel Hargrove as she stepped onto the wide front porch of the aging house she lived and worked in. The sound stopped her in her tracks. She’d heard of ghost dogs before, but not for many years, and that should be the only kind of dog in her general vicinity. She might own a junkyard full of the deceaseds’ spirits, but she’d never had a junkyard dog. Not only would it wreak havoc in her very nice house, it could mess with all the ghosts that made the junkyard their home. And frankly, she was almost more concerned the ghosts would mess with the dog.

  The residents of the junkyard set on the outskirts of Frysville in central Pennsylvania had told her Becker, her boyfriend, had shown up at the house about ten minutes ago, while she was checking the outside wall of her homestead, but they hadn’t mentioned a dog.

  Becker’s car was parked out front. He was a vet. She supposed he could have brought a dog to her house, but no way was it staying there. They’d never talked about having a dog, though perhaps it was still early in their relationship to talk about that kind of stuff. They hadn’t even talked about living together yet.

  And she still had that secret, about his great-grandfather in his pocket.

  To avoid thinking about that whole thing, she ran up the stairs of the porch and burst through the front door. Immediately she was greeted by a long, wet tongue kissing her leg. That was not Becker being happy to see her. The dog barked, and barked again, his front legs coming up off the floor like one of those cars with hydraulics.

  Just watching him made her exhausted.

  “Becker? BECKER!”

  “Sweetie, even the dead can’t miss hearing you when you scream like that. Calm down.” Her mother, dead for over ten years, stuck her head and an arm out of the Victrola on the mahogany table inside the foyer and waggled a finger at Mel.

  Mel barely resisted rolling her eyes. She did not need her mother interfering right now, especially if she was going to have to have words with Becker about how she was most definitely not keeping a dog in this house. Especially not a dog who was currently drooling on her best jelly shoes. Ew!

  “Mumford, where are you?” she heard Becker call from the back of the house. Mumford? What kind of dog name was that? Becker had better be ready to do some serious explaining. And to take this dog with him when he left after dinner.

  “In here,” she yelled. Getting the waggling finger from her mom again was more than worth the release hollering gave her. The dog whipped its head around when Becker came trotting down the hallway. The front-end hydraulics started again, and its tail was wagging so fast it was a blur.

  “Oh, hey.” Becker crouched down and gave the pup a vigorous scratching. Fido, or Mumford, as Becker called him, promptly lay on his side and continued with the tail wagging, although now it was thumping on her carpet hard enough to vibrate the floor under her feet.

  No kiss for her, no real hello, just a “hey” and scratching for the dog. Maybe they were further along in their relationship than she’d realized.

  She waited a few seconds to be introduced. Her mother stuck her head out of the horn attached to the top of the Victrola once more and smiled a smile that
told Mel she knew exactly what was going through Mel’s head. Mel turned from her because she did not want to be reminded that she shouldn’t be jealous of a freaking dog.

  After another minute of belly scratching and no other ghosts showing up at all, Mel cleared her throat. “So who’s this little furball?”

  Becker’s smile was nearly blinding. She knew, of course, how much he loved animals. He’d devoted his whole life to caring for them. But she hadn’t seen that look on his face before. Pure joy, pure love, pure adoration. Okay, now she could officially be jealous of the four-legged critter. Becker had never looked at her like that. Ever.

  “Mumford.” Becker patted the dog one more time on the head before rising to his feet to kiss her on the cheek. She backed away when he tried to put his arms around her.

  “Shouldn’t you wash your hands before touching me? You have dog all over you.”

  Becker’s face fell in a way that made her hurt. But he straightened his shirt and nodded. “Of course. I’ll be right back. Come on, Mumford.”

  Mumford stared at her for a second, his eyes penetrating in a way she didn’t think dog eyes were supposed to penetrate, before sniffing and waddling off behind Becker toward the powder room.

  At that point, Mel threw her hands in the air and followed along. Maybe she was going to have a dog in her house for the next little while. How bad could it be? It wasn’t like she was going to fall in love with him. And Becker didn’t live here. He didn’t even usually stay the night, just in case he was called out for a vet emergency, so she was safe.

  Right?

  “You know, he is very fond of that dog. When he walked into the house, he was all about showing him off to you.”

  Mel closed her eyes, because the last thing she needed was to be taken to task by Chester, the most gossipy ghost in the whole junkyard. The nosiest one, too.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, doll. He walked in and was beyond excited to show you this rescue dog he saw on the side of the road. The pooch was covered in mud and just lying there like he was done with this world, and Becker found him on his way to work. He took him in, and, because today was a relatively slow day, he gave him a bath himself, checked him over, and made sure he didn’t have a chip. Becker put flyers out and then went through the rescue sites, but no one seems to know anything about him, so he was excited to bring him to you. And you just shut him down with one sentence.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “I asked, and I watched.”

  Mel sighed. Well, didn’t she just feel like Mrs. Hatchett in the cookie jar on a bad day?

  “I was a bitch.”

  “For the record, I didn’t say it, but you might want to show a little more enthusiasm. He’s shown nothing but understanding and interest since you introduced him to all of us a few months ago. Doing the same for him when he finally brings his job home to you is only right.”

  Ugh. This was why she had never really done relationships before and had honestly hoped to not ever do one. But then Becker had answered her ad for someone to hang out with. She’d submitted it on a whim to celebrate another successful crossing over and receiving another full shipment from her dad of new ghosts to find sanctuary at Hargrove Junkyard.

  Becker had been her friend for three months, and then—wonder of wonders—he’d asked her out on a real date.

  She’d been lonely enough to say yes the first time, and eager when he’d asked a second time.

  And now, almost a year later, she was happy she’d decided to say yes to the tall, handsome vet who’d accepted her eighties fashion sense and her eclectic taste in music and movies. He’d also been a real trooper when he found out what her business actually was. As much as she hated to admit it, Chester was right. She’d never tell Chester, of course, because she’d never hear the end of it, but she should be more open to Becker’s business if some day she wanted them to move to the next stage of being a couple.

  With that in mind, she went to find the male duo of dog and vet.

  Mumford sat on his hind end, staring into the powder room as Becker talked to him in regular words, none of that baby talk she’d heard some people in town utter to the small dogs they carried around in purses.

  “She’ll come around, boy. I know she has a soft heart for a lot of living and dead things. She’ll see you as adorable. We just have to give her time.”

  “She’s standing right here, and he is adorable, and so are you. But what kind of name is Mumford? If you found him on the side of the road, then I’m assuming you named him that.”

  Becker flashed an embarrassed smile in the round mirror above the bathroom sink. The powder room was one of the things she loved most about this house. The sink looked like it belonged in the head of a small boat. It was round and porcelain and no more than the width of a grown man’s hand. But it was deep, and it was cute, and she’d painted the whole room a soft purple with black accents to showcase the thing.

  Her mom had thought she was a little bit loony for thinking a bathroom was worth falling in love with, but Mel loved it anyway. She’d put dramatic black-and-white photos of her favorite eighties artists in a big decoupage collage that took up an entire wall.

  “Sorry about that. I was just making sure he understood not everyone might take to him right away, but that doesn’t mean they can’t warm up to him. I don’t know what his life was like before. I’ll do everything to find his owners if they want him, but he’s already growing on me. To answer that last question, the name popped into my head as soon as I saw him. When I couldn’t find tags on his collar with his name, I decided to dub him Mumford. I think it fits him.”

  “I can see how it would,” she agreed. “And you want to keep him if no one else claims him?” She smiled at his reflection.

  “Yeah, I do, but actually I think he’d do better out here with you than in town with me, since here he can run and have the company of the ghosts.”

  Struggling with her facial expression, she did everything she could to keep the smile where it was. Becker keeping a dog was one thing. Putting him out here for her to take care of was another.

  “Why would I want to keep him here?” She hadn’t meant for it to sound so shocked, but Becker’s face fell again, and her heart sank.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he remained staring into the mirror. “Well, for one thing, I have an apartment, and he would have to be on a leash every time I took him outside. For another, there’s no room for him to run. And for a third, if you need it, I’m almost never there anymore. I’m either at work or here or helping you with your business. I guess I could put him in the car all the time, but I think it would be better if he had something more stable.”

  That, of course, made sense, as did most of what Becker ever said, and damn it, that left her without a way to gracefully say “no thanks.” Not that she couldn’t. She was perfectly capable of making up her own mind and not letting someone else tell her what to do. She was also capable of not bowing down to anyone just so she wouldn’t have to feel bad. But one look at Mumford and something about him drew her in. What was it? His soulful eyes? His waggy tail? The way he looked at her as if there was no one else in the world he’d rather be with?

  She shook her head. That was very strange. How could she even tell that from one glance?

  “He can stay, but you have to stay then, too. I’m not taking care of him all by myself. You get to help, because I didn’t ask for this.”

  “Fair enough.” Becker’s huge smile said it was more than fair, it was exactly what he wanted, and he’d gotten it without an argument. She wasn’t sure why she had given in so easily, but now that she had, she felt better and was actually looking forward to having the little mutt running around the house.

  She went back to the hallway and called Chester.

  “Can you get your talky friends together so we can get the word out to the junkyard that the dog is here with me, and no one had better mess with him?”

  “Absolutely. A
re you also going to tell us about the new ghost that’s around? I haven’t seen him yet, but my spidey sense is telling me that someone new is here.”

  She took an involuntary step back in surprise. “I don’t know anything about a new ghost. How did they get here? Did you see anything new in the area?”

  “Nope. Just your dog.” He lifted his chin to point behind her.

  Mel glanced over her shoulder to find Mumford sitting and staring at her again with a goofy dog grin on his face.

  Okay…

  ****

  Never taking her eyes off the smiling dog, Mel backed down the hallway toward the living room. She kept the smile in place, but inside she was trembling, just a little. Was it possible that the dog had a ghost possessing it? It was nearly unheard of, and she’d never come across it personally before, but she guessed there was a first time for everything.

  “Becker, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure.” He came out of the powder room with that smile she adored, the one she desperately didn’t want to wipe off for a third time, but she had to ask some questions, and he might not like them.

  Walking to the living room where Chester normally dwelled and Bernie made his home in the sofa, she let Becker follow her. When he stepped through the door, she tried to shut it before Mumford could come in, but even with his stumpy legs he was still too fast for her. Drat!

  She ran her fingers over her permed bangs and let her bangle bracelets jangle as she tried to come up with a way to get the dog out of the room. If the dog was possessed, then she needed to be able to talk and find out what they should do, without it hearing.

  Although, now that she thought of it, ghosts were almost always attached to something. It was the way they got from place to place. And if a ghost was somehow attached to Mumford, it could probably leave at any moment, like her ghosts did, to roam around. Most likely it had gone wandering as soon as they’d reached safety here. But what was it attached to?

  Unless it was riding the dog, she thought, horrified at the idea, and whatever it was attached to had been destroyed, or was too far away from here for the ghost to be able to jump out of the dog.