A half hour later, I disembarked, then made the ten-minute walk from where I’d gotten off the bus to the animal shelter. I headed straight for the tiny office and entered. Ariadne sat behind a battered old desk surrounded by paperwork, tins of cat food, and boxes of dog treats. Piled high all around were bags of feed donated by kind souls who loved animals as much as I did.
“Your angel of mercy has arrived,” I announced.
“Thank God,” she said, clambering to her feet. She hugged me, and I plucked a stalk of straw out of her hair. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“What’s first?” I asked.
“The dogs need feeding. I’ve tried to do it like ten times and failed. The phone keeps ringing, which is good, but doesn’t help at feeding time.”
“Leave it with me.”
I fed the dogs, both pleased to see that none of them were the same as the last time I was here, which meant people were adopting them, but simultaneously, it saddened me to think how many pets were still abandoned every single day. As many as Ariadne re-homed, more lined up for a chance at their forever home.
“Okay, done,” I said. “What’s next?”
Ariadne spun around in her chair, her face red with rage. Sitting in her lap was a tiny puppy, no more than a few weeks old. He/she was far too thin, and a horrible green pus oozed from the corner of its right eye.
“Some bastard just left this puppy tied up outside. If hubs hadn’t stopped by on his way to work to drop off the sandwich I left on the kitchen counter this morning, the poor little thing might’ve died of heatstroke before anyone found him.”
“Who would do such a thing?” I exclaimed, reaching down to pluck the soft bundle from her arms. I checked out the undercarriage. A boy. Tucking him into the crook of my arm, I tickled his tummy, and he yawned, then emitted a contented whimper.
“I don’t know,” she said, her teeth gnashing together. “But they’d better hope I never catch up to them. Why the hell didn’t they just bring him inside?”
I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe they thought they’d be judged or forced into donating. Or maybe they’re just cruel bastards.”
She heaved a sigh. “I’d better get ahold of the vet. That infection looks nasty, and if it isn’t treated, he could go blind.”
Ariadne called the vet while I made some puppy milk. With no idea of his age, I didn’t want to risk giving him solid food. For all I knew, he might not have been weaned yet. He wolfed it down. God, he must be starving. I suppressed the urge to make more. If he hadn’t been fed properly, giving him too much all at once could make him sick. I’d wait for the vet’s assessment first.
Luckily, Ariadne had a good relationship with her vet, and she arrived within thirty minutes. She examined our new resident, declared that he couldn’t be older than five or six weeks—far too young not to still be with his mother—and that although the eye infection was nasty, a course of antibiotics should clear it right up. She gave him a shot just to get started, as well as the normal injections puppies needed to ward off infection, and promised to return in a couple of days to check up on him.
With the vet’s blessing, I fed him again, and after he finished, he promptly fell asleep in my arms. As I watched his tummy rise and fall with every breath, an idea formed in my mind, one that, as much as I strived to ignore it, kept coming back. I’d tried everything to bring Upton out of himself and failed on every occasion. But a puppy… whose heart wouldn’t melt when faced with this level of cuteness? Plus, if Upton had something else to think about, a living, breathing thing that relied on him for its very survival, he might just come to realize there was life after loss.
“When do you think he’ll be well enough to go to a new owner?” I asked.
Ariadne put down her pen and rested her hands on her stomach. “Hopefully a couple of weeks. As soon as he puts on some weight. Thankfully, if they get the right care, they bounce back quickly at his age.”
I rubbed my lips together. “What would you say if I took him?”
Her eyebrows shot up, wrinkling her forehead. “You’d do that?”
“Well, not me, exactly.” I explained about Upton and the lack of progress I’d made. “I think this little pup could be exactly what he needs.”
Ariadne canted her head to the side. “I’m not sure, hon. You know as well as I do that getting a puppy for anyone as a surprise isn’t a good idea.”
“Under normal circumstances I’d agree, but I have a feeling about this. Plus, I’ll be there Monday through Friday. If it doesn’t work out, then I promise I’ll personally re-home him, and I’ll foster him until that happens.” I hit her with a beseeching grin. “Please.”
She nibbled on her lip while she considered my plea. And then she nodded.
“Okay, but the responsibility for that pup’s wellbeing is on you.”
I grinned. “A task I’ll happily accept.”
9
Upton
I paced along the second-floor hallway, shooting the occasional glance over the railings that gave me a perfect view of the front door. Izabelle was running late. In the almost two months she’d worked here, she hadn’t turned up for work late once. What if the bus had crashed? I’d seen the way some of those bus drivers negotiated the winding roads along the coast. They drove like total idiots at times.
Over the last three weeks, I’d worked even harder to avoid her. Every time I saw her, my mind went straight back to the kiss. The feel of her lips beneath mine, the way her tits had flattened against my chest, the sound of her breath catching in her throat. Even her lack of reaction didn’t stop me from reliving every single moment and wishing things were different.
I couldn’t blame her for finding me repulsive. The deep, jagged scar running down my face was the least of the hideous scars I carried, both inside and out. If truth be told, the ones on the inside were even more repellent, hence my determination to keep people at bay. If I opened myself up, then I risked judgement, and I was only just holding things together as it was. All it would take was one person to agree that Jenna’s death was my fault, and it’d tip me over the edge. Better to stay apart, aloof, cut off from society in general than risk the opinion of others.
The front door opened, and Izabelle appeared. I reached out a hand to steady myself. Thank God.
Wait. What was she holding?
I leaned over the banister to get a closer look.
Izabelle tipped back her head, and her jade-green eyes locked on mine. And then she hit me with a broad smile that flipped my stomach and sent a rush of warmth through my chest.
“Hi,” she called up to me. “I brought you something.”
She dropped to a crouch and… set down a puppy.
A fucking puppy.
It scampered across the hallway, slipping and sliding on the marble floor. And then, right in the middle, it stopped and…
“Jesus Christ, Izabelle. It’s taking a piss on my floor.”
She gave me an impish grin and shrugged. “It’ll clean. Come meet him.”
“No dogs,” I stated, more than a little pissed she hadn’t even thought to ask whether she could bring her puppy to work with her. “You’ll have to take him back to your house.”
“Oh, he’s not mine,” she announced. “He’s yours.”
Shock pulsed through my body, and I shook my head violently. “No.”
“Yes,” she said, pulling a pack of tissues from her purse. She mopped up the spillage, put the piss-soaked tissues in a plastic bag and tied a knot in it, then scooped the pup into her arms. “Come down and meet your new friend.”
A growl rumbled in my chest. “Take it back, Izabelle.”
“Him, not it. And once again, that’s a no.”
She sauntered off in the direction of my kitchen with the… thing… and disappeared from view. I clenched the railings, my knuckles turning white. What was this… charade? She’d overstepped the mark this time. I could just about put up with her myriad attempts to show me that life was worth livin
g—side note: I disagreed—but this… what was that English phrase that Sebastian loved to use? Oh, yeah, this took the fucking biscuit.
In other words, she had some goddamn nerve.
A dog was a ten-year commitment, at least. Who the hell did she think she was?
I stomped downstairs, my feet landing on the carpeted stairs so heavily, I almost dislocated a hip. I caught up with her in the kitchen where she and Barbara were cooing and making those stupid noises women seemed to keep especially for babies and young animals.
“It is not staying here,” I reiterated for the avoidance of doubt. “You had no right, Izabelle. This is a major imposition, and one that is definitely outside of your boundaries. Now wherever you got it from, take it back.”
“A friend of mine runs an animal shelter. Some cruel person left him tied up outside. He was starving, had a horrible eye infection, and was far too young to be without his mother. That was three weeks ago.” She held him toward me. “What if he’s re-homed and those people are cruel to him? Could you live with that?”
My jaw worked, and a nerve beat in my cheek like it always did when the familiar stir of anger simmered inside.
“You had no right,” I repeated. “And how dare you try to heap guilt upon me? Don’t you think I carry enough of that around with me as it is?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I spun on my heel and marched out of the kitchen, my long strides bringing me to my study in a matter of seconds. As I drew to a halt, I heard it. A clipping noise. The sound of a dog’s claws.
As I turned around, a set of big brown eyes met mine. He plopped his rump on the tiled floor and gazed up at me, then tilted his head to the side, almost as if he was trying to work me out.
Good luck with that.
I had to concede he was quite cute. Tan and white, a patch over one eye, and he had one ear up and one ear down. But still too much trouble. If I’d wanted a dog, I’d have chosen one for myself, not had one foisted on me by an overeager do-gooder who, despite my best efforts, kept coming back for more punishment.
“If you piss on my floor, you are straight back to the pound, do you hear me?”
He whined and then lay down and proceeded to lick his paws.
I rolled my eyes and sat behind my desk, then fired up my computer, hardly even aware of what I was doing until I found myself browsing an online pet store, and the next thing I knew, I had a basket full of puppy gear.
Well, seeing as Izabelle refused to take him back, I guessed he was staying. For now. I still hadn’t fully decided. It depended on how much of my stuff he wrecked with his acid piss and penchant to chew everything in sight. Puppies chewed, right? Yeah, maybe add in a few more of those soft rubber rings that the store guaranteed meant your Italian leather shoes remained intact.
I glanced over at the doorway, and a jolt of panic sent me to my feet. Where was it? I mean him. Where was he?
The sound of soft snoring reached me, and I ducked my head beneath my desk. He’d curled up at my feet and I hadn’t noticed. I sat on the floor and rubbed behind his ear. Goddammit. Stupid puppy was determined to win me over.
“Long way to go yet, you little fucker.”
“Aww, look at you two. Best friends already.”
I twisted my head and glowered at Izabelle standing a few feet away. “The jury is out on whether he’s staying.”
“Sure, it is,” she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’m nipping to the store to pick up a few things for him. Paolo is going to drive me.”
“No need,” I declared. “I already ordered everything he needs. There’s a delivery coming this afternoon.”
Her smile widened, and she clutched a hand to her chest. “See, you’re not all bad.”
“Don’t you believe it,” I muttered.
“What have you decided to call him?”
I frowned. “Didn’t he come with a name?”
“Yeah, not so much. The evil bastards who left him tied up outside the shelter in the searing heat didn’t bother to leave a nametag. So, what’s it to be?”
I returned my attention back to the sleeping puppy. “Bandit.”
She inclined her head. “Bandit it is. I like it.”
“You still shouldn’t have done it.” I locked my eyes on hers. “And I’m not committing to anything.”
She rubbed her lips together, forcing me to swallow a groan. Whenever she did that, I had to quell an urge to kiss her. The memory of her lips, still and unmoving beneath mine, appeared in far too many dreams for my liking.
“Fair enough,” she said. “But my instincts tell me you two will be inseparable by the end of the week.”
“Bandit, get the fuck off my bed.”
Two weeks had passed, and no matter what I tried, the damn dog was determined to sleep with me. Every night, I’d place him in his basket at the foot of my bed and then turn in, and every morning, I’d wake to find him curled up beside me, his head on the pillow and his paws tucked up to his chin, the picture of fake innocence. Cute, yes, but not the plan.
The original plan had been for him to sleep in the kitchen, but three days of straight howling had seen me cave. I needed sleep more than I needed to train the dog, and so I’d made the kind of rookie mistake lots of new dog owners made—I’d allowed him into my room, and now the little fucker thought he owned the joint.
He lazily opened his eyes, snuffled into the pillow, stretched, then burrowed further into my Egyptian cotton three thousand thread count sheets.
“Little bastard,” I groused, throwing back the covers. I tugged on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and took him downstairs and into the yard. We’d made progress with the toilet training, but I couldn’t deny one or two accidents, including a particularly delightful gift one night when I’d woken, thirsty, and decided not to switch the light on to go fetch a drink.
Yeah, I wouldn’t make that mistake a second time.
I waited until he’d done his business, then fed him and left him in the kitchen while I showered. When I returned downstairs, Izabelle had arrived, and she was sitting on the kitchen floor tickling Bandit’s stomach. A weird feeling filled my chest, a kind of heat accompanied by a heavy weight that made it hard to take a full breath.
“Hey,” I rasped.
Her head came up, and her smile made my insides clench. “Hey yourself. Did you manage okay this weekend without me?”
I grunted, picked up the coffeepot, and poured a cup.
“Says it all,” Izabelle said. “I knew he’d win you over.”
“I didn’t say he had.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I glared at her and stomped outside, and Bandit immediately leaped to his feet and trotted out after me like the fucking shadow he’d turned into. Izabelle’s chuckles reached me, and I growled.
Goddamn dog.
I sat in the shade and, as if he had springs in his legs, Bandit jumped right into my lap and gave me those big brown eyes that resulted in me scratching him behind the ear as I’d learned he loved.
“Aww, would you look at that,” Izabelle said, joining us without invitation. She blew on her fingers and rubbed them against her lapel. “It’s so satisfying being right.”
I gave her a filthy glower, then returned my attention to the bundle of fluff gazing up at me with complete adoration.
“I need to take him to the vet today,” Izabelle continued when I refused to rise to her teasing.
A jolt of panic widened my eyes. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”
Her grin almost split her face in two. “Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s due for a checkup, that’s all.”
“Oh.” I breathed deeply to calm my racing pulse.
She got to her feet. “Well, shall we go?”
As I caught on to her meaning, I shook my head. “You take him.”
“No. He’s your dog.”
“Not by choice,” I groused.
“Suck it up, Upton. I’ll come along for the ride, but you’re
taking him.”
“Tell the vet to come here.”
“They don’t make house visits unless it’s an emergency.”
“Fuck my life,” I muttered. “Fine. What time’s the appointment?”
“In an hour. We’d best get moving. You never know how bad the traffic might be.”
I huffed. “And you couldn’t have told me this last week? What if I’m busy?”
She gave me one of her looks, the one that silently screamed ‘bullshit’.
“One, I avoided telling you so you couldn’t think up some crappy excuse to avoid leaving the house, and two, you and I both know you’re not busy. After two and a half months, I think I know your schedule by now—it’s virtually nonexistent.”
Since when did she get so fucking comfortable ticking me off?
“You’re overstepping the mark, Izabelle,” I warned. “Know your fucking place.”
Irritation propelled me from the chair and forced Bandit to scramble from my lap. Luckily, he had good reflexes and landed like a cat. I paced inside, snatched up Bandit’s lead, and by the time I turned around, there he was, right behind me.
“Sit,” I ordered.
He obeyed.
“Finally, we’re getting somewhere,” I mumbled, dropping to a crouch to affix the lead to his collar. By the time I straightened, Izabelle had caught up. I expected a contrite expression; I got a defiant one.
“Ready?” I snapped.
“Yes,” she said, and I caught a slight upturn at the corners of her lips.
Damn frustrating woman.
Bandit’s claws clicked on the marble floor as we headed for the front door. Outside, I stopped to let him do his business, then scooped him into my arms. I pressed the fob for the garage door, and it opened.
“Five cars!” Izabelle exclaimed from over my shoulder. “Why on earth do you need five cars?”
She drew alongside me, and I glowered at her. “For a recluse, you mean?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, but go ahead and think the worst. I meant who needs five cars, whatever their personal circumstances. You can only drive one at a time.”
Enchanted: A Billionaire Romance (The ROGUES Series Book 4) Page 6