B rady stood by the unlit fireplace and stared at the rug in front of it.
Or more accurately, the thing on the rug.
It was staring back at him. It was now midnight. An hour ago Brady had gone to sleep. Or tried to. The loft, being one room, allowed noise to carry, so when the dog had started crying and howling almost immediately, it was a shocking decibel level considering the pup was maybe seven pounds.
He’d tried everything. A blanket. A ticking clock from the mantel. Soft music from his own iPod. Okay, not soft, he didn’t have soft, but hell, it was hard rock, the good stuff.
Every single time, the dog would appear to settle and Brady would crawl cautiously off to bed. He’d get comfortable and start to drift off.
And then the hell would begin all over again.
“They tell me that you’re one hundred percent canine,” Brady said, hands on hips. “But I’m thinking you’re one hundred percent pussy.”
The dog-Brady refused to think of it as Twinkles-let out a low whimper and rolled over, exposing its belly.
“Jesus.” Brady sank to the couch in nothing but his knit boxers. “Come here, then.”
Its sorrow apparently forgotten, the dog leapt up with enthusiasm and bounded over. He tried to jump up onto the couch, making it only about six inches off the ground before falling to his back on the floor.
Brady shook his head. “Failing is not an option, soldier. Try again.”
Gamefully, the dog did just that, getting even less height this time before he once more hit the floor. With another sad whimper, he sat at Brady’s feet, tail tentatively sweeping the floor.
Brady sighed and scooped a hand beneath his little concaved belly, lifting him up so that they were eye to eye. “Out of all the trucks in all the land, why mine?”
The dog wriggled joyfully. “Arf.”
Brady blinked, then found himself grinning at the unexpected bark. It had been high-pitched and soprano, but hell it was better than a meow. “So you are a dog. You’ve got to work on the pitch, man. Can’t have all the chick dogs thinking your boys never dropped.” No need in telling him he probably wouldn’t get to keep his boys.
“Arf!”
He’d created a monster. Brady laughed, then started to set the dog down, but he clung to his hand. Shaking his head, Brady set the thing on the couch next to him, where he immediately crawled into his lap.
Brady stared down at him and realized he was shivering. “You’re nothing but a bag of bones.” Pulling the dog against his chest, they had a little moment, and finally the dog stopped shivering. He licked Brady’s chin.
“Listen,” Brady said. “This is just temporary. Tomorrow we figure out what the hell Lilah’s game is and she’ll find you a home. She’s good at it.”
The dog didn’t even blink, but in its chocolately eyes, Brady saw a hint of sadness. “Don’t even try the puppy eyes, they don’t work on me.”
The dog blinked slowly.
Brady pointed at him. “Knock that off.”
His answer was a soft whine.
“Look, I’m just passing through, that’s it.”
Not getting it, the dog set his head against Brady’s chest and let out a shuddery sigh.
And Brady did the same. In his life, he’d taken responsibility for more people than he could count, but he’d steered clear of animals, never keeping one for himself. He’d not needed the extra burden. “If I were going to keep a dog,” he said, “it would be a big one. Or at least one that could get up on the couch by himself.”
He would have sworn censure filled the dog’s dark gaze. “Hey, I’m just being honest here. You little things are yappers.”
The little guy put his ears down, the picture of innocence.
And Brady had to laugh. “Right. Save it for someone you can manipulate, okay? Maybe the ladies.” He thought of Jade and Lilah, both of whom had manipulated the hell out of him. “I deserve this,” he muttered.
The dog cocked its head.
“Never mind. I’m so tired I’m talking to a dog.” He got up, set the dog on the blanket, and then dropped like a stone onto the bed. He remained tense a moment, waiting, but he heard nothing and slowly relaxed.
Ahhh, sleep. He was halfway to paradise, lying on a warm beach with a beer in one hand and the silky coconut-scented skin of a woman under the other. And yeah, okay, maybe the woman looked a little like Lilah, right down to the mossy green eyes and deliciously curvy body, which was at the moment wearing nothing but the smallest of string bikinis…
And that’s when he heard it, the one sound that could bring him back from the beach and the sexy woman on it: “Arf!”
Fuck.
“Arf, arf, arf… ”
The next morning, Brady came awake to a noise he didn’t recognize and rolled off the bed, automatically reaching for his weapon.
When he realized he wasn’t in combat, was in fact a million miles from any combat zone, he lay back down and scrubbed a hand over his face.
Then the sound came again.
What the hell?
He sat up and found the dog sitting in front of the kitchen sink, head deep in the trash he’d clearly hauled out from its place in the cupboard beneath. He was surrounded by a pizza box, an orange juice container, and two bottles of beer.
All empty.
“You are a menace to society,” Brady said, and scrubbed a hand over his face. What had he gotten, maybe half an hour of sleep? Well used to sleep deprivation, he staggered out of bed thinking he might as well get on with what he’d agreed to do here.
Work on the Bell. “No more trash,” he told the dog after he’d showered and dressed. “It’ll make you sick.” And with the little guy happy at his side, clearly not sick at all, they headed downstairs, stopping at Jade’s desk. “Anyone come looking for him yet?”
Jade was one of those women who looked like she belonged in Vogue. Gorgeous but… different. Today she was wearing a sunshine yellow sundress that required sunglasses to look at her straight on. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard knot, held there by wooden tongue depressors. Her makeup was photo-ready. He nearly looked around to see if he’d stepped onto a movie set. “His name is Twinkles,” she said.
He just looked at her.
Not particularly intimidated, her mouth twitched suspiciously.
He narrowed his eyes, and she let a very small smile free. “Lilah did her thing, putting out notices and flyers. We’ll let you know.”
“It’s been two days.”
“It has. Dell told me he examined him. He’s about a year old, and other than slightly malnourished, he’s healthy. Great news.”
“Uh-huh. And you’re certain Lilah’s trying to find the owner,” he said.
Jade smiled and patted his hand. “Lilah would never put a dog’s well-being at risk for her own amusement.”
“But she is amused.”
“Oh, honey. There’s no doubt.”
It took Brady three days just to clean out the Bell 47. Not surprising, considering the chopper had suffered nearly three decades of neglect and abuse. It also needed airframe repairs, battery servicing, and a whole long list of engine and parts maintenance.
He enjoyed the work. In the army, he’d started out as a nobody, but well used to that he’d worked his ass off and through performance had earned a warrant officer slot, which had qualified him for flight training.
He’d never looked back. He loved being in the air, but when he couldn’t be, his second love was this, taking apart and reassembling a chopper. As he worked, his new shadow stuck close, alternately snoozing in the sun or watching him with hero worship.
Belle Haven continued to do business around them. Del and Adam ran a tight ship, and it was a busy one. Adam, apparently the resident dog whisperer, was currently in the yard with three golden retrievers and their owners, teaching a class. Even from twenty-five yards away, Brady could tell it was more about training the wayward owners than the dogs.
When class ended, Adam ambled over.
“The dogs are pretty good listeners,” Brady said, wiping his hands on a rag.
“It’s not the dogs that need to listen.”
“This one does.” Brady nodded to the dog sleeping his day away in the sole sunspot as close to Brady as he could possibly get.
“What’s his problem?” Adam asked.
“He won’t sleep.”
There was a moment of silence while Adam took in the dog doing just that. Well, not complete silence, since the mutt was snoring like a buzz saw.
“I mean at night,” Brady said with a disbelieving shake of his head.
“What does he do instead of sleep?”
“Cries. Barks. Drives me up the fucking wall.”
Adam’s mouth hinted at a smile. “I’m going to tell you what I tell all of my clients. You’re the one in need of training, not him.”
“What are you talking about? I’d sleep all night just fine if he’d shut the hell up.”
Adam let the smile escape. “Okay, man. Let me know when you’re interested in being trained.” He crouched and ruffled the dog’s fur, and the little guy immediately rolled over on his back, exposing his belly for more.
Brady slid the dog a dark look, at least glad to see that his little belly was rounder now, no longer concave. “Traitor.”
With a smirk, Adam rose. “So what’s going on with you and Lilah?”
Dell had tried asking him this question days ago. Brady hadn’t answered. Not because he wanted to be an ass, but because he honestly hadn’t known. “Other than she saddled me with this thing?”
“Yeah. Other than that.”
“Not sure.”
“But something,” Adam said.
Brady nodded. Yeah. There was definitely… something. And holy Christ, that something was explosive whenever they got too close.
“She’s important to Dell and me.”
“I know.” He wondered if Adam was telling him to back the fuck off, and if it mattered. Could he back off? He honestly didn’t know.
Adam was quiet a moment, just studying the Bell. “You’re important to us, too,” he finally said.
Brady let out a breath and nodded, feeling an unexpected tightening in his chest at that. There sure as hell weren’t that many people who felt that way about him. He started to say something, he had no idea what really, when a truck pulled into the lot, interrupting him.
A leggy blonde hopped out of the truck wearing a business suit, the skirt as narrow as a pencil, emphasizing mile-long, perfectly toned legs. The high heels added an I’m Sophisticated and Expensive tone.
Turning to her truck, she reached back in and the red suit tightened across a world-class ass, wrenching a sound from Adam.
Brady looked at him but his face was carefully blank. Too blank. “Know her?”
“Yes,” Adam said tightly.
The woman straightened and Brady saw that she was carrying a golden retriever puppy. She glanced over, drew herself up at the sight of Adam, then strode toward them, face cool and impassive.
Actually, Adam’s expression was impassive. A battle-ready soldier.
The woman’s face was set in stone. Angry, cold stone.
Brady figured she was one of those snooty bitches who was wound too tight. And going off the steam coming out of her ears, her hair was also wound too tight.
“Holly,” Adam said with no inflection in his voice.
“Adam.” There was plenty of inflection in her voice. Mostly temper. “Here.” She thrust the puppy into Adam’s arms. “She’s defective.”
Adam looked down at the puppy, who wriggled and licked his nose. A genuine light of affection came into his eyes. “Defective?”
“She’s up all night crying.”
At that, Brady was forced to rethink his opinion of her. She wasn’t bitchy. She was exhausted.
He knew the feeling.
Adam gave Brady a brief look. “He’s in a new place, Holly. He’s scared.” He thrust the puppy back into her arms, where it wriggled some more and licked her, too.
“I suppose you think this is funny,” Holly said, attempting to stay lick-free.
“A little bit,” Adam said evenly, not showing the smile that was in his voice.
Her mouth tightened. “My father’s a domineering, annoying, meddling ass. And you. You’re… ” Breaking off, she shook her head. Turning on her heels, she strode off, long gorgeous legs churning up the distance while her puppy looked back over her shoulder at Adam, head bouncing.
“Big fan of yours?” Brady asked.
Adam didn’t rise to the bait. He merely looked at the helicopter and then back into Brady’s eyes. “You in for the month or not? I need to know whether to make plans.”
“I said I’d do it. Make your plans.”
With a nod, Adam was gone.
Brady went back to work for the rest of the day and then spent the night hours once again attempting to get the mutt to sleep.
But the damn dog was not interested in anything but driving Brady to the edge of sanity. At two in the morning, he was over it and reached for his cell phone to call Adam. “Fine,” Brady grated to Adam’s voice mail. “I’m waving the white flag. I need training.”
At three A.M., Adam hadn’t called back, and desperate, Brady tried Lilah, feeling completely justified at the late hour since she was the one who’d foisted the damn mutt on him in the first place. If he had to be up, she should, too.
He got her voice mail as well. “Come get him or I’m shipping him to Afghanistan,” he said, and tossed his cell phone aside to flop to his back on the bed, listening to the damn dog cry.
Thing was, Brady was used to going on little sleep. He’d been trained for sleep deprivation in the military. But this wasn’t an enemy thing. Hell, this wasn’t even a logical thing.
It was one damn little dog getting the best of him. He’d tried everything short of strangling him, and finally somewhere near dawn, the mutt finally crashed. A grateful Brady fell into one of those dead slumbers that nothing short of a world-wide catastrophe could rise him from.
And yet he came suddenly awake what felt like a minute later to the sun poking him in the eyeballs. Sprawled face-down and spread-eagle on the bed, he cracked open one eye and blinked blearily at the clock.
Seven thirty.
Since the last time the dog had woken him up had been seven, he’d had exactly thirty minutes of sleep. “Fucking mutt.”
“Aw. Is that any way to talk about your bedmate?”
“Jesus!” He pushed up on his arms and turned his head, his gaze landing on Lilah’s. She stood at the foot of his bed in a pair of hip-hugging, ass-snugging jeans, a knit top, and a smile he couldn’t quite read but was pretty sure was smug.
Then he realized there was a weight on his lower back, and that it was the dog.
Sleeping.
Brady dislodged it and rolled to his back. Grabbing his pillow, he shoved it behind him to lean back against the headboard.
The dog simply rolled onto its back and kept sleeping. The fucker.
Lilah’s eyes were on Brady’s bare chest. “Um.”
Brady raised a brow and waited for her gaze to meet his.
When it did, she had two spots of color high on her cheeks. “Sorry, my phone was off last night, but I came over as soon as I got your message. Wanted to see if you were still alive.”
Which he most definitely was. Alive. Very… alive. Some parts more than others.
Her gaze jerked back up to his eyes. “I thought you’d be… up.”
They both knew just how up he was. “It was a rough night.” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the dog, who was slowly coming awake and blinking innocently. “That thing kept me awake all night.”
“What did you do to get him to go to sleep?”
“I told him to shut up.”
She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Twinkles is a rescue. He needs love and affection.”
“Sorry, fresh out of both.” He sighed at her look of disappointment. He’d gone years and years, and to his recollection, he’d never once sighed. And yet he’d sighed more in the week he’d known her than he had in his entire life. “I gave him my blanket,” he said. “I put a loud clock in that blanket to simulate the sound of a mother’s heartbeat. But I’m starting to think he never had a mother, that he came from the devil himself.”
“Did you try cuddling with him?”
“Huh?”
“Cuddle,” she repeated. “You know, hold him close, snuggle, nestle… Like what you’d do if someone was with you in there… ”
“The only someone allowed in my bed is a woman.”
“Pretend he’s a woman, then!”
Fascinated by her, he plumped his pillow some more and gave her a go-on gesture with his hand. “No, I don’t know. Tell me what I’d do. In great detail.”
She blew out a breath. “You’re sick.”
“Depends on your definition of sick.”
“Just hug your dog!”
“Not my dog. The dog you foisted on me. Which begs the question: why?”
“Twinkles. His name is Twinkles,” she grated, hands on hips now. “Not ‘the dog’ or ‘it’ or whatever else you’ve been calling the poor thing.”
Probably best she didn’t want to know what he’d called it earlier this morning around three thirty A.M.
And again at four thirty.
And five thirty.
“Haven’t you ever had a dog?” she asked in exasperation.
“No. And I don’t want this one. Fun’s over, Lilah. You’re taking him back.”
She was just studying him speculatively. “Really? You’ve never had a dog?”
“Never.”
She looked surprised for a beat, and then her expression softened. “So you don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
“What having a pet can add to your life.”
“Pain and suffering?”
She slanted him a pitying look and crossed her arms, which plumped up her breasts. “Unconditional love.”
“Lilah, I travel all the time. I don’t have time for unconditional love that comes with the responsibility of pet care.”
“Or… you don’t like attachments.”
“Attachments are messy,” he agreed. She’s chilly, he thought, watching her nipples press against her white shirt. Or maybe turned on.
That made two of them…
“And messy can make you feel too much,” she said. “Right?”
“Actually, at the moment I’m feeling plenty,” he said softly.
Again her gaze flickered downward, past his chest to his lap, where the sheet was pooled. Two high spots of color appeared on her cheeks. I should… ”
“Go?”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “Good-bye, Mr. No-Strings.”
“Nice.”
“Just calling it like I see it.”
“Are you casting stones, Ms. Safety?”
Her brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“You let all your animals into your heart the same way you do the people.”
“I don’t-”
“And,” he went on. “You do it for keeps. As far as I can tell, your friends have been your friends forever.”
“So? That’s a good thing.”
“You also have two exes, both apparently still in your life.”
“It’s a small town. And actually, I have three exes, if you must know.”
“Fine. Three. My point is that it’s a comfort for you, having familiar people around you, and I get that. But I see it as a barrier to trying new things or stretching yourself. You live your life safe, Lilah.”
He could tell he was back to pissing her off again. It was a specialty of his.
“Safe,” she repeated in disbelief.
“Yeah. When was the last time you left this podunk town and saw the world?”
Something crossed her face at that, but she recovered quickly and narrowed her eyes. “I came to help, not be analyzed. Now do you want my help or not?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then.” She scooped the dog off the bed. “This would be a lot better if we moved this to the kitchen. Or outside.”
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll have to get dressed.”
Her gaze once again slid to the sheet. “Don’t tell me you’re naked under there.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
She bit her lower lip as she hugged the dog close. The smart little shit licked her cheek and gave her the big, ol’ puppy-dog eyes. “Aw,” she murmured, and nuzzled him. “You’re so sweet.”
The dog craned his neck and sent Brady a knowing grin, the little shit. Brady must have made some sound of annoyance because Lilah turned back to him. “Look, it’s a simple thing to make him feel safe and secure. It’s a simple hug or a kind word. A quick cuddle. I mean, honestly, how hard is that?”
Currently hard enough to pound nails, he thought grimly.
She thrust the dog at him. “Practice while I’m here so I can see your technique.”
“I’d rather practice with you.”
She just looked at him, a tactic she’d learned from him, Goddammit. He snatched the dog then and, dangling him from his hands, brought them nose to nose.
“Not like that!” His sexy-as-hell teacher put a knee on his bed and leaned over him to press the dog to his chest. “Like that.”
Her hair fell forward, dragging like fine silk over his shoulder and arm. Her breath was warm against his jaw as she held his hands on the dog. “Hug him.”
He’d never been one to easily follow a command, even after all those years in the military, but he held the damn dog instead of doing what he wanted, which was to roll Lilah beneath him to show her cuddling. “Maybe we can call it something other than cuddling,” he said.
“What, that threatens your manhood?”
Brady was wearing just a cotton sheet and a boner for the record books, so he was pretty fucking sure he was secure “in his manhood,” but he decided to keep that to himself. More disconcerting, the dog had settled quietly on his chest, looking at him adoringly as his big puppy-dog eyes slowly… fluttered… shut.
The little shit was going to sleep. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“See?” Lilah said. “It works.”
“Yeah, now that I have to get up. I’m supposed to go running with Adam.”
Their eyes connected, and as if she suddenly realized she’d gotten on his bed and was leaning over him, she hopped up and nearly fell to her ass.
“You okay?”
“I have to go,” she said, whirling toward the door.
“Now who’s chicken,” he murmured.
“I have a lot to do.”
Yeah, he was getting that. Maybe he should have opted for plan B which would have been pulling her down on the bed and cuddling her. They could both be naked by now. Yeah, he liked plan B. A lot.
“You’re giving me mixed signals, Lilah.”
She dropped her forehead to his door with an audible thunk. “I know! I’m sorry.”
“When you settle on a decision, you’ll let me know.”
“My decision’s made. It’s courage I’m waiting on.”
He didn’t like the way that sat in his gut. “I scare you?”
Forehead still to the door, she let out a short laugh. “No. I scare me. And I should be scaring the hell out of you.” She turned to him. “I’ll tell Adam that you’re coming-” She broke off and grimaced. “I mean that you’re getting up-” She closed her eyes, her cheeks going pink.
Grinning, he set the sleeping dog next to him. When he made to toss back the covers to get out of bed, she squeaked and left, slamming his door.
He laughed-until he realized she hadn’t taken the damn dog. By the time he got downstairs she was gone, and stayed gone. Which, he told himself several times throughout the following hours, was probably a good thing. A month was plenty of time for him, but he thought he knew her now, or at least he was starting to know her. And she gathered people in and kept them, not walking away after four weeks. Ever.
Yeah, she was the exact opposite from him in that respect, but he was drawn to her all the same, just as he was drawn to this small town. A novelty. A diversion. It would wear off, all of it.
Any minute now.
That night Brady stood in front of his bed staring down at the dog.
In return, the dog looked at the ceiling. At the floor. Anywhere but at Brady.
Finally Brady picked him up and dangled him nose to nose. “Here we are again. Bedtime.”
The dog tried to lick him, but he wasn’t holding it close enough. “And don’t start with the eyes. We’re going to sleep. Do you really need to”- Jesus -“cuddle?”
“Arf.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Brady held him close and let himself be licked half to death. “There,” he said, and carefully set the dog down on the blanket between the fireplace and the bed. “Stay. Sleep.” Brady paused to inhale the delicious silence before getting into bed with a heartfelt groan. He was exhausted.
Three minutes later the whining started. “Christ on a stick!” He sat up, shoved his fingers through his hair and dropped his head to his knees. “I’m begging you. Shut up.”
That didn’t work either.
Throwing back the sheet, Brady dropped to the floor and the very nice pad of blankets he’d carefully folded, littered with stolen treasures. A shoe, a watch, a shirt-all Brady’s.
The dog was a thief.
“We cuddled already. Don’t tell me you need more. Come on, man, where’s your self-respect?”
“Arf.”
Shit. Brady crouched low and pulled the dog into his chest. The bundle wriggled with pleasure. Brady sighed, and beyond exhausted now, slowly lowered himself to the blankets.
Not bad.
“Arf!”
In the darkness, on the floor, Brady squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pretend he was back in Afghanistan, in the middle of a war zone, which was starting to seem like it might be easier.
“Arf!”
“I’ve been to places that look at you as a free meal,” he warned softly in the dark. “Not my thing personally, but I’m willing to make an exception.”
There wasn’t another sound.
With a blissful, exhausted sigh, Brady began to drift off.
Only to come awake some time later. He lay there utterly still in the dark night, aware of the fact that something had woken him but not sure what. He was still on the floor, but there was no warm lump on his chest. Sitting up without a sound, he found the dog-in the middle of the fucking bed. How he’d gotten up there was a mystery, possibly by using the chest at the foot of the bed as a stepping stool.
But that’s not what had woken him. Pulling on his jeans, Brady grabbed the gun he’d stowed in the nightstand, moving soundlessly through the loft.
Then he heard it again, a crash from downstairs in the center that was completely closed up for the night. Thinking of the drugs that were kept there, he headed grimly toward the door, intending to protect what was Dell and Adam’s with whatever force was necessary. He turned to tell the dog to stay, but he hadn’t so much as taken a break in his snoring. Shaking his head, Brady moved out.
Downstairs, the open reception area was dark and empty, but the first examination room was lit, and sounds of a struggle were coming from within. Moving quietly along the shadows of the wall, Brady stepped into the open doorway, gun drawn.
“Don’t move,” he said.
But he was the one to go still.
In the room, arms full with an injured dog on the examination table, was Lilah.
The dog was snarling and trying to bite her, and as she wrestled with him, she spared Brady a quick glance.
“How’s this for too safe?” she asked.