Searching for Disaster

by Jennifer Probst

  In response, the runt suddenly made a choking noise. Izzy quickly held her up higher to see what the problem was.

  And then her puppy threw up.

  Sad, mortified eyes stared into hers. Izzy realized this would be her new life, and it might not be easy. Vomit stuck to her clothes and was splattered on her pants. She looked at Arilyn.

  "See what I mean? This one's nervous and when she gets stressed, she throws up!"

  Ridiculous tears burned Izzy's eyes. "I don't care. I love her," she burst out.

  "I love him, too," Liam said stubbornly. "We're taking them."

  Arilyn stared at both of them hard, then slowly began to grin. The grin grew by epic proportions, turning into a belly laugh that exploded in the room. Both puppies stopped wriggling and turned to look at her. "Yes. You two are official goners. You found your canine mates. Let's go get you set up so you can take them home."

  Izzy cuddled her puppy and happily followed her friend out.

  chapter eight

  "NO, HAN SOLO. Don't chew. You'll get sick."

  Exhausted, he reached down to pluck Han from chewing the last good leg of his coffee table. He settled the pup on his chest, hoping he'd relax for an hour. A minute. Hell, a second would work at this point.

  Instead, he caught the scrunched-up face Han got when he needed to pee.

  "No! No, let's go out, let's go out," he sang crazily, scrambling up from the couch to grab the leash. "Hold it, Han, hold it--no!"

  Too late. Pee scattered on the carpet and over his hand.

  "Yuck! Ugh, that's disgusting." Devine shot into the kitchen, grabbed a mass of paper towels, and swiped the pup's belly. It must've tickled, because Han began to squirm and desperately lick, resembling the cutest miniature Ewok he'd ever seen.

  He melted. "Aww, okay, you tried, buddy. Right? Let me clean this up." As he cleaned up the carpet, he decided to pull it up next weekend and go back to wood floors. Sure, they were a bit scratched, but it would work while Han was young, and then he'd put in the investment to strip them and make them new again. After the peeing was done.

  Devine scrubbed and wondered what time it was. He'd been in a constant time warp of discipline, getting Han to walk on the leash, and trying to be on top of accidents. When had he eaten? Ah hell, forget it. It was early, but he'd try to get to bed and catch up on sleep. Weren't puppies supposed to sleep for most of the day, or was that some kind of cruel lie to woo owners?

  Han didn't like sleep. He liked trouble.

  After Devine cleaned up, he took Han for his final walk, then got him ready with his crate. Arilyn had explained it was important for puppies to sleep in a crate at night for structure and to limit damage. Later on, you could bring them to your bed, but if you started off wrong, you were stuck with bad habits forever.

  Devine didn't believe in bad habits. Sure, last night was a nightmare with no sleep, but tonight he was sure they'd both pass out cold.

  "Come on, Han, time for bed."

  The pup anticipated the move and took off, running furiously around the house and leading Devine on a crazy chase. How could the little bugger be so hard to catch? Finally, he dove and got him, scooping him up and settling him inside his crate. He'd made it warm and cozy, with stuffed toys, approved chewy bones, one of his shirts for his scent, and a blanket. Still, Han didn't agree with him on the home design, because he went frantic, crying and scratching at his crate in an effort to get to Devine.

  "No, I'm sorry, Han. You sleep in the crate. I sleep in the bedroom."

  The hound howl was long and painful. Devine rubbed his head. What should he do? The poor thing looked so miserable. But then he remembered when Stone began taking Pinky to work because she'd totally manipulated him with her crying. No, he was stronger. More disciplined. He'd do what Arilyn and the Raising a Puppy book said.

  Exhibiting confidence he didn't feel, he turned out the lights and headed into his bedroom. Usually his oasis, he'd decorated it with forest greens and earth colors. His furniture was a gorgeous dark wood, and the bed had a leather-padded headboard. The decorations were sparse, but each had meaning. The framed picture of his family at his brother's wedding. The antique tapestry chair he'd found at a garage sale and restored on his own as a side project. The painting of Tuscany's rolling hills drenched in light, where he'd always wanted to go on his honeymoon. His framed diplomas from college and the police academy. A safe haven to sleep, with no outside stress.

  He pulled on an old T-shirt and sweat shorts and climbed into bed.

  Then listened to an hour of nonstop howling and crying.

  Devine tried with every iota of his being to ignore Han and sleep. But the howls shredded every nerve ending until he was a jumping, shaking mess. Finally, he marched out of the bedroom and knelt beside the crate, where Han made a frantic effort to escape his prison.

  The book said hold a hard line. Arilyn had warned him of what could happen. What was he going to do?

  He reached for the phone and punched in her number.

  "Hello?"

  "You gotta help me, Isabella."

  "Liam? What's the matter? Is your puppy okay?"

  He held the phone up to Han's wild cries. "Does that sound like he's okay?"

  Her voice was husky with exhaustion. "You put him in the crate, right? Did he sleep at all last night?"

  "No; neither of us did. I'm going out of my head. I took off an extra day so I can make some headway with his training, but I haven't slept, and he cries if I'm not with him, and he pees everywhere, and I'm so fucking tired. How are you coping?"

  Her sigh told him everything. "I'm not. Same story here. Leia won't sleep and she tears through the house, and I already lost a shoe 'cause she's so small she wriggled into the tiny crack in my closet and had a leather feast."

  "Yeah, I lost three table legs. You named her Leia?"

  "Isn't that sweet? Princess Leia, to be exact. What did you name yours?"

  He paused. Somehow he had a feeling she wouldn't like it. "Umm, Han. Han Solo."

  Silence.

  He rubbed his head and Han shrieked in frustration that he was still stuck in his crate. The voice on the line shook with temper. "What? You named him Han Solo? That's ridiculous! People are going to think we came up with that as a couple! Why did you have to do that?"

  He growled back. "You don't have the rights to Star Wars--I always wanted a pet named after Han. He's my favorite character!"

  "Yeah, but Leia is mine and I thought of it first."

  "I had my name picked out for years."

  "So did I! We're going to look idiotic at the dog park! Why couldn't you be more original?"

  "Why couldn't you?" he practically shouted. "Listen, I don't have time for this stupid argument right now. You gotta come over."

  "I'm not coming over!"

  "I'm serious, Isabella. I need help. I'm on the edge. Arilyn said not to let him in the bed, and last night I ended up trying to sleep on the rug next to him but he cried all night. I'm falling apart. Bring over Leia. Maybe they miss each other."

  A groan came over the line. "Maybe you should call Arilyn. I'm in my pajamas. I'm tired."

  "Is Leia letting you sleep?"

  A pause. "No. It's bad here. Very bad."

  "Then I'll come to you. I'll be right over."

  "No! Dammit, okay, I'll come over there. What's your address?"

  He gave it to her. "Hurry."

  "Look, I'm not interested in any shenanigans. I'm coming solely to help the dogs, so you have to promise not to make any moves."

  "Are you kidding me? I have no interest in shenanigans either. Yes, you're hot and I want you bad, but I'm tired and cranky, and I just want to make him stop howling and peeing and chewing. Got it?"

  "Fine."

  The phone clicked.

  Devine faced Han. Puppy teeth bit at the crate's bars, and he let out fierce howls, shaking his large ears when they flopped in his face. "Fine. We're getting company, so you can stay up later tonight." He
clicked open the door and scooped the puppy out. Raising him up to his direct vision, he spoke firmly. "There will be no more of this nonsense. When I declare bedtime, you need to sleep. But Isabella and Leia are coming over, so you get a respite."

  Han licked the tip of his nose and sighed with canine satisfaction.

  And damned if Devine's heart didn't melt like the pussy he was.

  "I CANNOT BELIEVE I'm doing this," Izzy muttered under her breath, pulling into the circular driveway. She squinted through the dark to make out the outline of a decent-size ranch with a fenced-in yard and a small covered porch. Her curiosity was piqued. She'd finally get to see his house.

  Little whimpers poured from the backseat. "I know, sweetie; we're here. You're going to see your brother." She got out of the car and slid the crate out, walking up the winding path. When he called, she'd been in a state of near tears from Leia's constant howling for the second night in a row. His crazy request to come over actually sounded sane. At this point, she'd try anything, even though she was still mad he had ruined her unique name by stealing another character for his own puppy. So unfair.

  The door opened before she could knock. Her heart pounded and her body went on instant alert. How was this fair? He was literally a mess. Hair sticking up, a rough five o'clock shadow hugging his jaw, wearing a faded T-shirt and black sweat shorts, and sporting bare feet. She'd barely been able to pull on some old jeans, a blue sweatshirt with a hole in it, and flip-flops. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail and her makeup was almost nonexistent. She looked awful.

  Yet he looked more delectable than ever. She wanted to pounce, climb on him, lick at that stubble, tear off his clothes, and ride him hard.

  The image slammed into her brain, and she shook her head hard to dissipate it.

  "Thank God you came. Come in." He took the crate from her and set it on the earth-tone carpet, then shut the door. "Han, I have a surprise for you," he called out.

  A whizzing ball of fur flew to her and attacked her ankles, nibbling on the strap of her shoe and wildly licking her toes. She burst into giggles and picked him up, placing a kiss on his snout. "That tickles, you little fur ball," she crooned. "Have you been torturing Liam?"

  "Prisoners of war should be locked up with a puppy to take care of. That would teach 'em," he muttered, pulling Leia into his arms. "Come here, sweetheart. You have your brother to play with now."

  A shiver raced down her spine at his low, crooning voice. Her nipples twisted into hard points, and her panties dampened. Crap. He had to stop talking like that to her puppy or she'd break.

  They placed the puppies on the floor and watched them hurl themselves together in a crazy embrace. Tumbling around and around, nipping at ears, legs entangled, it seemed like a joyous homecoming that got Izzy all mushy.

  "Have you slept at all this weekend?" he asked.

  "An hour or two at the most," she admitted.

  "How bad are the accidents?"

  Izzy sighed. "I'm glad I don't have wall-to-wall carpets. At least I can pull up the throw rugs temporarily."

  "Yeah, but do you take her outside on the leash forever, and then when she comes back in, she pees right in front of you like she thinks you're an idiot?"

  Izzy laughed. "Yep. They're not in control of their bladders, I think. Arilyn said if we keep taking them out, eventually they'll get it."

  "Let's just hope it's not a year from now. I thought I was a strong person. But I'm cracking, Isabella, and it's only been a weekend."

  "I know. We need to dig deep and things will get better. They're babies."

  "Yeah, you're right. I love the little bugger, too. Can I get you a Coke? Tea?"

  "Water would be great for now."

  Letting the puppies wrestle freely, he headed to the open kitchen overlooking the spacious living room. Izzy walked around, taking in the layout. It was a beautiful house. Dark wood furnishings and neutral colors screamed masculinity, from the leather sectional to the large espresso dining table. A surplus of technological equipment such as a megascreen television, speakers, and shelves full of DVDs and books was scattered about. The ceilings held a crisscross of beams, adding a bit of the rustic. A fireplace framed in distressed brick took up the far wall, surrounded by crooked shelves holding an array of books. An antique-looking cabinet painted red was the only shock of color besides a few green, leafy plants strategically placed around the room. The walls were mostly bare except for a family photo here and there. No throw pillows or blankets or feminine touches softened the stark look. The kitchen had a butcher-block counter, updated stainless-steel appliances, and nice ceramic floor tiles. The table held a MacBook Air, several folders, and the daily clutter that marked a well-lived-in house.

  "Your place is nice," she called out. "Did you say you renovated it?"

  He walked over and handed her a glass of water with lemon. "Yeah; I bought it for a clearance sticker price. It was run-down and abandoned, so the bank sold it to me. I redid the front porch, gutted the kitchen, and built a deck on the back."

  "Yourself?"

  He grinned. "Some of it. The other stuff I hired contractors for, but I learned a lot. I like to fiddle with stuff around the house. It's soothing."

  Izzy imagined him stripped down, hammering at a wall, tool belt hanging low around his waist to show off his impressive abs, and felt a bit woozy. She avoided his gaze, knowing his police skills were too sharp. If he scented weakness, he might try to take advantage.

  Her inner voice laughed with mocking hilarity. Yeah, right. She'd end up being the one to take advantage of him. When it came to Liam, she reacted like a sex-starved, love-struck teen at a simple touch. Why did it feel so good? Like she was alive again after existing in a black-and-white world?

  "Sit. Let them play. Forgive me if I start snoring in the middle of a sentence."

  She relaxed. The man was in no shape to take advantage. She set her drink on the coffee table, tucked her leg underneath her, and leaned against the cool leather. He sat next to her, leaving a comfortable few inches between them. Still, his body threw off delicious waves of masculine heat. "You going to work tomorrow?" he asked.

  "No. I took one extra day so I could get Leia settled in. You?"

  "Same thing. I had the weekend free and got McCoy to take over my shift tomorrow. Think I can train Han in one more day?"

  "No. We're screwed."

  He sighed. "Yeah. At least I'm not on nights for a while, and I already lined up my neighbor's daughter to come take care of him in the early afternoon."

  "I'm lucky, too. Arilyn's grandfather said he could help during the week if I'm working late, and I can go home on my lunch hour to take care of her."

  "Patrick is a good guy. We hang out at Ray's Billiards together. He's a trip. Can hold his damn whiskey better than any of the guys at the station."

  Izzy saw the moment he stiffened, as if realizing how easy it was to talk about getting drunk. "You know I don't care, right, Liam? Drinking is a way of socializing. If I hadn't overindulged on a consistent basis, I could enjoy a drink or two, too."

  He tilted his head, studying her face. "Are you also an alcoholic?"

  "It wasn't as much the alcohol as the drugs, but I decided to cut that out of my life also. One tempts the other. My father is an alcoholic, and since it's been documented that genes could have an effect, I don't need to tempt fate any more than I did."

  "Smart."

  She liked the way he took her answers and understood. He asked when he was curious, not afraid to be real.

  A crash to the floor made her jump.

  She craned her neck around as Liam cursed softly and headed to inspect the damage. "Okay, you little monsters, it's a good thing that didn't break." He picked up the metal picture frame from the side table. Scooping up Leia and Han, he walked to the center of the room where they could be carefully watched. "Play over here and--ah shit!"

  Izzy winced and watched as Leia made a familiar noise and retched all over his shirt.

&n
bsp; Slapping a hand firmly over her mouth, she held back the giggles ready to explode from the look on Liam's face. Disgust, horror, and shock combined as he stared mutely down at the puppy, who now looked like she felt much better and was giving him the famous look all females did when they were in trouble.

  Brown puppy eyes wide with apology, she whimpered and nudged his hand, licking gently.

  "I assume she was nervous?" he asked steadily.

  She tried to keep a straight face. "Yep. Arilyn said the vet checked her out thoroughly and declared it a nervous habit she'll grow out of."

  "Fantastic." He plopped them down, wrinkling his nose. "Ugh, I smell." Pulling the fabric away from his body, he peeled off his shirt. "Let me throw this in the wash; be right back."

  She refused to watch his naked retreating back, so she sipped her water and watched the siblings play. She heard the faucet run and then quiet footsteps returning. "I'm making you pick her up next time until she grows out of it."

  "Sorry, I figured she . . ." Izzy trailed off, words deserting her.

  He hadn't put on another shirt.

  As he stood in front of her, chest bare, she shook with a desperate need to close the distance and touch him. Whorls of golden hair lay scattered over a muscled chest, tightly defined. His abs looked rock-hard. Her fingers curled into tight fists, craving to trace the line of hair down the middle that disappeared under the waistband of his shorts. He looked like a Greek god, feet braced, hands on hips, not aware that his masculine beauty and strength would cause any woman's heart to stop, stutter, and restart.

  He caught her reaction and stilled. The air between them became charged. Burning heat shot from his aqua-blue eyes and he caught his breath, as if trying to make a decision. She stared at him, helpless to move.

  "Keep looking at me that way, and we're going to have a problem," he warned softly.

  Izzy jumped, tearing her gaze away with painful effort. She cleared her throat. "Sorry."

  "I'm not." He sat down beside her but kept the space between them. "I just don't want to feel punch-drunk from lack of sleep when I finally get you in my bed."