Sawyer made a clicking sound and the dog dropped to the ground and plopped his backside down. He blinked up at Ozzy, who nearly fell to his knees to give the dog a hug. But that wasn’t the right tactic to take. Not when he wasn’t the one the dog needed to bond with. “His partner was a woman,” Sawyer added. “One reason I think this’ll work.”
“Sawyer, you are the man. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Hey, you’re the one who parted with a collectible number one comic.” Sawyer held up his hands in surrender. “I got the better end of the deal for sure. Hang on. He comes with stuff.” He rounded the back of the van as Ozzy reached down and picked up the dangling leash.
“You’re about to luck out big-time, fella,” Ozzy told the dog. The two of them walked to join Sawyer, who was unloading three boxes and a bag of dog food from the back. Thinking of Jo’s limited living space, Ozzy repressed a wince. “He have a name?”
The dog whined as Sawyer dived farther into the van and came out with an oversize stuffed dragon.
“Lancelot. Here you go, boy.” Sawyer held out the toy, and with a whimper, Lancelot grabbed hold. “That’s his coping mechanism,” Sawyer explained. “He’ll need some paw holding for a while, but he’s protective and well trained. Trust me, your lady will be safe with him around.”
His lady. Ozzy normally would have flushed at a comment like that. Instead, he found himself offering his hand once again in thanks. “You need anything, you call me, okay?”
“Deal,” Sawyer agreed. “See you online.”
Lancelot whined as Sawyer drove off. “Don’t worry,” Ozzy told him. “You’re going to be just fine.”
Lancelot sighed and looked up at Ozzy as if he needed convincing.
“What’s going on, Oz?” Jasper asked as he and Frankie emerged from the station, then came to a halt at the sight of man and beast standing side by side. “You got a dog? Man. Oh, man, he’s a—he?” Ozzy nodded his confirmation. “He’s a beauty. I can’t wait to get a place of my own so I can have a dog.”
“Do you have time for a dog, Oz?” Frankie glanced uneasily toward the top of the fire truck where Sparky was perched, sitting regal-like, watching everything as if from his throne.
“Not really, no. He’s not for me.” He grinned, bent down and gave the dog a good scruffy scrub. “I got him for Jo.”
“Right,” Frankie said slowly. “Because with a baby coming and a house the size of a postage stamp, she has room for that.” She shook her head.
“She’ll love him,” Ozzy declared, pushing away the worry. “Won’t she, boy?”
Lancelot dropped to the ground and rested his chin on his dragon.
* * *
JO STARTED AWAKE.
She blinked into the darkness, trying to remember falling asleep. She groaned, started to roll onto her back, only to be stopped by the stack of pillows she’d stuffed behind her that had done little to no good to relieve her discomfort.
The urge to get to the bathroom went from mild to urgent with the kick of one foot, but that wasn’t what had woken her up. She was certain of it.
Dragging herself out of bed, she walked as quickly as she could to the bathroom, eventually recalling she’d meant to simply take a nap after getting back from the farm. She’d put her cold items in the fridge, left everything else out and wanted to rest her eyes.
She glanced at her watch. That was ten hours ago! No wonder she was wide-awake at 4:00 a.m. She never slept that long.
“It’s like I’m training for a vampire’s arrival, rather than a baby’s,” she muttered. The stress over yesterday’s events must have taken a bigger toll than she’d realized considering she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. She took care of business, strode barefoot into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. She yanked a sweater from under the pile of work papers she’d left on the counter. Her house looked as if a mini-mart had exploded, but even her hunger wasn’t motivation enough to make her tackle the disaster.
She drank her water, looking out into the silent night that had crept up on her. A shadowy outline had her frowning and trying to peer over the counter to get a better look. She clicked on the outside light, went to the door and cupped her hand on the window. “What the...”
She yanked open the door and stood there, staring at the all-too-familiar SUV. “Ozzy Lakeman,” she muttered. With the new security system installed, she could only imagine what the monitoring station must be thinking, considering one of the cameras had been attached to the north corner of her house. What was he doing? They’d had this conversation. She was not defenseless or unwise as to the ways of the wicked, evil world. Clearly the man needed a refresher course in Jo Bertoletti 101.
Jo grabbed her slip-on shoes and exited, then walked around the front of the car. The motion lights that had also been installed blinked to life and shone a spotlight on Ozzy’s vehicle.
She lifted a hand to knock on the passenger window, then stopped. A smile spread across her lips at the sight of him, arms folded across his chest, fast asleep behind the wheel.
A second face popped into her line of sight. Jo yelped, jumped back and covered her mouth as the canine moved closer and pressed its damp nose against the glass.
Ozzy didn’t stir. Not even as the dog planted both its significant paws on Ozzy’s thigh. Jo tilted her head to the side. The dog did the same. She tilted to the other side. The dog mirrored her actions. Laughing, Jo couldn’t help herself. She reached out and tested the door, found it unlocked and opened it.
The dog dropped out and, after giving Jo a significant sniff, pushed its head firmly into her hand.
“Well, hello, Ozzy’s dog.” She bent over, as far as she was able, and gave the dog a good long pat. “You’re gorgeous, aren’t you? Your owner didn’t tell me about you. What’s your name?” She angled the dog tag up into the light. “Lancelot.” She rolled her eyes. “Obviously a knight would have a dog named Lancelot.”
“He’s not my dog.”
Jo yelped again, and this time the dog sprang into action, planting himself firmly between Ozzy and Jo. “Ozzy! What are you doing here? It’s okay, boy.” She stroked the dog’s head.
“Well, I came originally to continue our discussion.” He scrubbed his hands down his face and slowly unfolded out of the car. “But you were asleep—”
“How do you know that?” He hadn’t been peeping in her windows, had he?
“Because I knocked numerous times, and even though people saw you go in, you didn’t answer. I figured I’d wait for you to wake up.” He stretched his arms over his head and in so doing tugged his T-shirt up and exposed his six-pack stomach.
Jo pressed her lips together and forced herself to look away. She did not need to be distracted by Ozzy the fireman’s firm abs. “I only meant to take a short nap. You didn’t have to wait.”
“Listen, we have a creeper around here cutting brake lines in the dead of night. Could be dangerous, and I didn’t like the idea of you being all alone.”
“How sweet.” She purposely used the word she knew would set him on edge.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” He brushed a finger under her chin. “That won’t work anymore. Can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure, sweetheart. You know where it is.” She stepped back and let him head inside while she motioned for the dog to follow. “Might as well come in, too, Lancelot.” The dog remained where he was, looking into the cab of the open SUV. “What’s wrong?” She looked in and spotted a bright purple-and-blue dragon on the floor. “This yours?” She grabbed for it, held it out and watched in befuddled amusement as the canine grabbed hold and carried it into the house. “Should have named him Linus with his blankie.”
She closed Ozzy’s car door and headed inside just as Ozzy emerged. His hair and face were damp as if he’d ducked his head under the faucet.
“So whose dog is he?” Jo aske
d, sitting down, as Ozzy made himself at home by attacking her coffee maker.
“What?”
“You said Lancelot isn’t yours. You must be dog sitting, then? Who does he belong to?”
Lancelot whimpered from his declared space in front of the sofa. “Yeah, I know, boy,” Ozzy said. “He’s yours.”
“Mine?” Jo nearly fell off her stool. “What do you mean mine?”
“A friend of mine trains police dogs. Lancelot’s a bit of a dropout. No shame in that,” he added at the dog’s rare growl. “He lost his partner and—”
“Gained a dragon?” Jo teased.
“Something like that. He needs a good, strong female household and you need...”
She arched a brow at him. “Go ahead. Say it.” She quirked her mouth. “I dare you.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this about Butterfly Harbor, but yeah, you need protection.”
“And seeing as you wouldn’t fit on my sofa, you found someone else to do the job.” She sighed, rested her cheek in her hand. “Ozzy, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s a very swee—er, nice gesture. An appreciated one. But I’m not set up for a dog. Certainly not one his size. I mean, he’s bigger than me.” She looked down at her stomach. “Almost.”
“You can adjust accordingly. He comes with plenty of toys and food that we can store outside. He’ll be good company and he’ll make me feel better.”
She couldn’t help it—she laughed. “Well, of course, this is all about you,” Jo countered. “What about the baby?”
“What about it?”
“If the dog’s protective, he might not be so welcoming to an infant. There’s no telling what his reaction will be.”
“So we test him. Lots of babies around this town to introduce him to. Safely,” he added. “He’s a former police dog, Jo, not an extra from Cujo.”
Jo snorted. She must really be out of it to even be considering keeping the animal.
“I’ll be around to help out with him whenever you need. Besides, I bet Cheyenne suggested walks, right?”
“For me or the dog?” Jo teased but went on before he could answer. “Let’s agree to play it by ear? See how it goes? With you as backup. Always good to have a plan B.”
“Fine. Worst case, we do joint custody. After the way he was snuggling me in my car, we might be halfway to being engaged, anyway.”
This time, Jo didn’t even try to stop it. She laughed heartily and made Ozzy smile in a way that made doing so every day from here on her life’s goal. “I’ll get changed.” Her stomach growled noisily enough for him to grin. “Forget you heard that, please.”
“Not possible. You get going and I’ll get started on breakfast.” Lancelot was on his feet in an instant, padding over to sit beside Ozzy. “Make that we will. Hurry up. I think he’s starving.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MAKING THE DRASTIC changes he had over the past couple of years meant Ozzy had made himself comfortable in the kitchen. And not just his own, it turned out. It took him a few minutes to put away the groceries she’d left on the counter, but he hadn’t changed anything. Instead, he’d followed her surprisingly logical organization system and was digging into her refrigerator like a man on a culinary mission.
He’d seen enough of her food selection to understand she’d cook if she had to, but she preferred to grab and go. Made sense considering her long work hours, but grab and go didn’t always mean healthy. He found the wrinkled food list in one of her reusable bags when he’d folded it. He scanned through it, noticed the foods she was not supposed to eat during her pregnancy and did a quick cabinet check. Other than tuna, he didn’t find anything Cheyenne had mentioned as objectionable.
Lancelot gave a soft whine as Ozzy pulled out the fresh eggs, tomatoes and various other vegetables he could throw together into a frittata. By the time she emerged from the bedroom, he was popping the fancy tomato, asparagus and onion frittata into the oven. “Tea’s brewing,” he told her. “I found the box from Calliope’s stash.”
“I might actually find one I like as much as coffee.” She smirked, then shook her head. “Nah. That won’t happen.” She tugged at the hem of her oversize sweatshirt that almost, almost, hid her baby bump and part of the snug-fitting leggings clinging to her.
“Seahawks fan, huh?”
“Naturally.” She looked at him as if there was no other choice. Sitting on her usual stool, she stretched out her hand to scratch the top of Lancelot’s head. “I’m a legacy. Sundays were football days with my grandfather.”
Ozzy grabbed two oversize slices of hearty grain bread, another of Calliope’s homemade offerings, and dropped them into the toaster. He poured Jo a cup of tea and handed it to her. “You’ve mentioned your grandfather quite a bit. You two were close?”
She nodded and sipped her tea. “Hmm, good choice. Very. After my father died, he stepped in and stepped up. Good thing, too, since my mother wasn’t particularly interested in being a parent.”
“Sorry about your dad.” He peeled a banana and handed her half. She looked at the fruit as if she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it. “It’s potassium. Eat.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She nibbled and shrugged.
“How old were you when you lost your father?”
“Eight.” She hesitated. “My eighth birthday, actually. We were supposed to go out to this fancy dinner. My first big-girl dinner. Cloth napkins and everything. He was late getting home from work because he’d stopped to get my birthday present.” Her voice shifted, became almost distant. “A monogrammed tool set he had special ordered. Nothing fancy and nothing pink. I loathe pink.” She met Ozzy’s gaze with a hint of the ghosts that haunted her. “He was crossing the street to go to the store and was killed by a hit-and-run driver.”
Ozzy had no words. His relationship with his own father wasn’t ideal, but at least he was there. “Do you still have the toolset?”
“No.” She took another bite of banana. “The store had it sent to my mother, but she didn’t want it. She didn’t want any reminders, so she gave it away. My grandfather was livid.”
He had every right to be, Ozzy thought. So did she.
“My mother and grandfather did not get along. My father was his only child, and how she unfortunately dealt with his death was to pretty much try to erase his existence. She was going to move out of the state, but my grandfather put his foot down. He had a successful business, he had an established life and he wasn’t going to lose me on top of losing my father. So he paid her to stay, even bought her a new house closer to his. When I was thirteen, I went to live with him full-time, then moved out when I went to college.”
“I take it he’s gone now, too.”
“New Year’s Day when I was nineteen. We were watching football.” A slight smile curved her lips. “The last thing he did was swear at the refs. I went to get him another beer and when I came back, he was gone.”
“Jo.” Ozzy rested his hand over hers and squeezed.
“He was a really good guy, you know? Always there. Never let me down. Not once. He did create unrealistic expectations, too,” she added with a bittersweet laugh. “Leah’s diagnosis,” she explained. “And that concludes the maudlin portion of our morning.” She pulled her hand free and swiped at the dampness on her cheeks. “What about your parents? They’re still in town, obviously. I dream of that pie, by the way.”
“Same house for the past thirty-seven years. Dad’s retired from the city.”
“And your mom?”
“Housewife. Devoted to my father twenty-four seven. I was a late surprise,” he said. “They didn’t think they could have kids and then there I was. I think I confused them in a lot of ways. Still do.”
“They should be proud to have you for a son.”
“It’s difficult to be proud of someone you don’t understand. But I turned out okay.
Eventually.” If he made the joke first, then it lessened the odds someone else would make it. “It took me losing a ton of weight for my father to finally engage with me. Too bad I’m still not the son he wants.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
He shrugged, not wishing to answer. He didn’t like doing a psyche deep dive any more than she did. “You know what I should have fixed? Potatoes.” He snapped his fingers and retrieved a large russet from the basket by the sink. “It’s a splurge for me, but what the heck.” He wiggled the potato in the air. “We’re both worth it.”
“That we are.” She lifted her feet to examine her ankles. “Still swollen. Not quite so bad, though.”
“How did your appointment with Cheyenne go?”
“Good, I think. Fine. Well, you saw my food list. Yum.”
He chuckled at her lack of enthusiasm.
“She’s running lab tests, but told me to stay off my feet as much as I can. And I’m to take her prenatal yoga classes. Since there’s no site work this weekend, I guess I don’t have any excuse not to go. I’m also, as you guessed, under strict orders to get an hour of walking in every day. How that goes along with keeping my feet up, I can’t fathom.”
“I bet she recommended the beach.” Ozzy zapped the potato in the microwave for a few minutes, set another pan on the stove with a drizzle of oil. “It’s nature’s depressurizer. Blood pressure remedy extraordinaire. I’ve gotten my best workouts running on the shore.”
“Ha, I won’t be running anytime soon.” She stood up and retrieved her bag from the floor. “I have a picture, if you’re interested. It’s totally okay if you’re not.”
“A picture of what?”
Building a Surprise Family Page 16