Puppy Love

by Lucy Gilmore

  But no one had told him about Lila Vasquez.

  Not about how gracefully she moved or how perfectly she’d be able to match his steps in the waltz. Not that she was a woman of perfect proportions, the slender line of her waist leading to enticing curves above and below. Definitely not that the sound of her laughter would cause him to wish, for the first time in his life, that he had more to offer a woman than a charming smile and the ability to braid the shit out of a little girl’s hair.

  His equilibrium was offset enough that he committed to the lie, taking his fake phone call into the next room. He paused at the threshold to what looked like a bathroom, waiting to see what Lila would do next.

  “Where are the puppies?” Emily asked.

  “In the kennel attached to the back of the house. Do you want to meet them?”

  Even though his back was to the pair, he could practically feel Emily’s jaw drop. “All of them?”

  “You can meet all of them, but you can’t take all of them home. Other people need them, too, which means you can only choose one.”

  As before, there was no need for him to watch to gauge Emily’s reaction. Nothing in the world would delight his daughter more than to be thrown into a pit of puppies and told to pick whichever one she wanted. It was like the world’s largest candy store and theme park wrapped into one.

  Which was why he tucked the phone away with a sinking heart.

  Lila’s obvious lack of experience with children might have been amusing to start out with, but she clearly didn’t know how attached a six-year-old could become within the space of a few minutes. He liked dogs, he really did, but if Emily got her heart set on something like a greyhound or a Saint Bernard, which required more care than he had time to give, he was going to have to pull out his full bad-cop routine.

  And he didn’t mean that in the fun way.

  “Actually, before we go in, I was hoping we could—”

  “Oh, is your phone call done?” Lila asked with one eyebrow carefully arched. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt something important.”

  “Crisis averted,” he said, refusing to take the bait. “One crisis, at least. But before we create another one, we should probably lay a few ground rules.”

  “Ground rules? About what?”

  Off the top of his head, he could think of at least three, but none of them had anything to do with his daughter or puppies. On the contrary, they were founded solely in his body’s unexpected reaction to Lila’s laugh.

  I will not picture this woman naked.

  I will not picture this woman naked and in my bed.

  I will not picture this woman naked and in my bed and making those phone-sex operator noises.

  Those were three very good rules, and he planned to stick to them at every turn. Starting…soon. Very soon.

  “Our house isn’t large,” he said, his voice only slightly strangled. He couldn’t help it—he was still caught up on that first rule. Lila’s beige suit might not be flattering, but there was something about the boxy simplicity that enhanced every long limb and packed curve contained inside it. “So the dog needs to be on the small side.”

  “Oh, dog ground rules.”

  “And my schedule is a flexible one, but I can be up against some pretty tight deadlines, so a puppy that’s going to require three-hour walks every day is a definite no.”

  “Mr. Ford—”

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. If she was going to insist on calling him Mr. Ford for the next six weeks, he was going to have a seriously difficult time with that whole not-picturing-her-naked thing. Formality might work in putting some men off, but that air of authority was only making things worse.

  “Ford,” he said again, corralling his thoughts into a semblance of order. “Just Ford. And I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, but Emily can be—”

  Stubborn wasn’t right. Nor was difficult, though both those words occasionally applied. Complicated was more like it. The poor kid had only one parent, and not a very good one at that. She had regular appointments with audiologists, endocrinologists, and every other -ologist under the sun. She’d undergone her first surgery at age three and, since her condition was a degenerative one, probably had a lifetime more of them to look forward to.

  She was a tough little bird, yes, but there was a limit to what he was willing to make her endure. A broken heart over a puppy she couldn’t have was that limit.

  “She’s fast?” Lila suggested with another of those wonderful laughs. She nodded her head toward the back of the house, where Emily had made a beeline for the back door. His daughter was in a phase where the only kind of shoes she’d wear were soft-soled ballet flats that made about as much sound as a whisper on the wind. It was impossible to hear her coming—or going.

  And she was going, no doubt about that. She’d known what was about to happen and decided to take matters into her own hands.

  “Emily, you can’t—” he called, but it was too late. Emily had already disappeared through the back door, slamming it gleefully behind her.

  “They won’t hurt her,” Lila said as she began what seemed like the slowest possible walk in that direction. Slow and sultry, he noted, as though the only way to reduce her speed was to move her hips like a pendulum in slow motion. He could only assume she was doing it to torture him. Well, either that or to give Emily time alone with the puppies. “They’re all exceptionally well behaved.”

  “It’s not the puppies I’m afraid of,” he admitted. “It’s what’s going to happen when she picks the biggest, slobberiest one you have, and I have no choice but to drag her away. You obviously have no idea what it’s like to be the fun sponge.”

  Although it seemed impossible, her walk slowed down even more. Tick, tock. Back and forth. The steady beat of her body was mocking him.

  “The fun sponge?” she echoed.

  “One who sucks all the joy out of life. The void of happiness. The black hole of delight.”

  This time she stopped. Actually stopped mere inches from the door. Turning to face him, she asked, “You think you’re a fun sponge?”

  “Ask anyone,” he said with a mock sigh. “I’m the biggest fun sponge on the block.”

  “And you think I’m not?”

  The incredulity on her face almost had him laughing out loud. “Well, I don’t know you very well, obviously, but based on what I’ve seen so far, I’d have to say no.”

  “Me?”

  “Other than your weird dislike of white teeth, sure.” He shrugged and shoved one of his hands in his pocket. It was dangerous to bring up the night of the ball, but he had no other choice. She might have been able to set her kindness toward Emily aside like it was nothing, but he’d been reeling ever since. “Think about it—your job is literally to play with puppies every single day. You went to a stuffy black-and-white-tie ball in a sparkling pink dress and pulled it off with panache. You make Emily laugh. Come to think of it, you make me laugh. That all sounds pretty fun to me.”

  Lila opened her mouth and closed it again, looking at him as though he’d arrived from a distant star.

  Before she could reply, the door swung open again and Emily’s head peeped through the opening, an expression of such rapture on her face that Ford knew he was done for. He hadn’t seen his daughter light up like that in a long time.

  Great. They were getting a Saint Bernard. They were probably getting two Saint Bernards, the pair of them conjoined at the massive, hairy hip.

  “It’s Christmas,” she breathed. “Daddy, come see! It’s Christmas.”

  He cast one last forlorn look at Lila before following his daughter into the dog kennel. This was going to be a long, painful slog of daily three-hour walks and buckets of dog slobber, but for Emily, he’d endure much worse.

  His first thought as he moved through the door was that it was unlike any dog kennel he’d ever seen before. Instead of crates, each animal was held in a half-walled pen that allowed them to run and jump and sniff happily
at the creature next door. It was also, as his daughter suggested, a lot like Christmas. There weren’t any decorations up or anything like that—there was still a good month to go before the holiday hit—but half of the dozen or so puppies inside were adorned with giant red bows around their necks.

  “Look!” Emily cried, as if his eyes weren’t already open and drinking in the various puppies around him. “Presents. For me!”

  “Emily, moppet, they aren’t all for you—” he began, but he was cut short by Lila’s low laugh.

  “Yes, actually. They are.” She brushed past him and squatted down to Emily’s level. It was the sort of thing that was going to be the death of him—not only was it a kind thing to do to make a little girl feel more comfortable, but it made it easier for Emily to understand her. “Emily, all the puppies with red bows are ones you can choose from. I picked them out specifically for you. They’re the ones who are best at hearing the important sounds you might sometimes miss. They’re not too big to follow you around school, but they are big enough to help catch you when you get dizzy sometimes. And most importantly, they love kids.”

  In other words, she’d done her research—and done it well. This woman he’d met only once had somehow anticipated every one of his fears and staved them off at the outset. He relaxed and crossed his arms, watching the pair of them interact. Apparently, he’d underestimated the princess.

  “Any one of them will be a perfect fit for you.” Lila added, “But—and this is the most important thing—you have to play with each and every one of them.”

  “I do?”

  “Absolutely. This is going to be your dog for years and years, so you need to be sure you’re going to be best friends first.”

  Emily’s eyes widened, the weight of the decision heavy on her shoulders. “Okay,” she said and lifted her finger. “I want that one.”

  “You want to play with him first? Sure. Let’s get him out, and—”

  “No, I don’t want to play. I want him. I pick that one.”

  Ford had to struggle to keep his lips from twitching.

  “Right. So, there’s a special yard out back where you can introduce yourself. Then, when you’re done with him, we can bring him in and we’ll get another one out.”

  “No, thank you.” Emily was nothing but polite as she turned down each and every one of Lila’s suggestions. “I want the floofy one with the curly ears.”

  “Um.” Lila cast a helpless look up at Ford. “Am I not explaining this correctly?”

  “Oh, you’re doing just fine. Better than most, in fact. But I warned you how it would be.”

  “His name is Jeeves,” Emily announced.

  “Actually, his name is—”

  “Jeeves von Hinklebottom.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Jeeves von Hinklebottom the Third.”

  Although Lila didn’t look convinced, the floofy puppy with the curly ears seemed to accept his name with dignified grace. Then again, that could have just been how he always looked. There was something about his shaggy face—a perfect blend of black and white—and dark, piercing eyes that made him appear preternaturally wise. Especially when all he did was sit down and lift his head in a majestic nod.

  That was a Jeeves von Hinklebottom the Third if Ford had ever met one.

  With a laugh, he decided to come to Lila’s rescue. It seemed the least he could do after she was so careful to set up a selection process that his daughter quashed in thirty seconds flat. “Jeeves looks absolutely perfect to me. What is he? A poodle of some kind?”

  “Half poodle and half cocker spaniel, actually. He’s what’s known as a cockapoo. They’re perfect for kids and perfect as hearing service dogs, but I wasn’t kidding about the whole meet-and-greet process. She really should try to get to know them all first.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Ford agreed. He held out a hand to help hoist Lila to her feet. He liked the way her palm felt, smooth and strong against his. “But as much as you might know dogs, I know kids—or this kid, anyway. She knows what she wants. Once she makes a decision, it’s made, and woe to the man, woman, or child who gets in her way. It’s a bit of a family failing, to be honest.”

  He had yet to release Lila’s hand. Before he could second-guess himself, he tugged, drawing her closer. He didn’t embrace her or touch any part of her except the hand she’d offered, but it didn’t matter. The space between them was its own physical entity—a hot, pulsating thing he could almost reach out and touch. The enticing jut of her chest stopped mere inches away from his own, her chin tilted so that their eyes were level.

  “We know a good thing when we see it,” he added, his voice low.

  Lila’s lower lip fell, her soft pink mouth open just enough for an enterprising man to take advantage. Unfortunately, Ford’s enterprising days were long behind him. All he had now were awkward, semi-inappropriate jokes to prop himself up.

  “Jeeves peeves. Hinklebottom pinklebottom.” Emily started laughing and dancing around the kennel, winding herself through their legs like a snake. “Daddy, did you hear me? I said ‘pinklebottom.’”

  “Yes, moppet. I heard.” He heaved a sigh and released Lila’s hand. The moment was lost—and with it, all chance he had of being the least bit suave. Once upon a time, he’d had suavity. Heaps of it, in fact. But it had long since been buried under stale Cheerios and lost sippy cup lids. “There’s a whole alphabet for you to torture this poor animal with. What a treat for us all. Well, Lila? Is there something I’m supposed to sign? I can tell you right now the only way you’re parting that child from that puppy is with a crowbar.”

  “What? Um. Yes.” She blinked at him, still openmouthed, still enticing as all hell. Not that it mattered. She managed to wrangle herself back into the schoolmarm zone within seconds. “There are a few things to fill out and go over before you take him home. I’ll grab your schedule and your first day instructions so we can get started. You and Emily can stay here with Cooper—I mean, um, Jeeves.”

  “Von Hinklebottom,” Ford supplied.

  “I’m not saying that part.”

  “The Third.”

  “Or that.”

  “Uh-oh.” He tsked, unable to help himself. Granted, it would have been so much better to be the suave man in a tuxedo, to take the princess into his arms and plant a masterful kiss on her lips, but he could only work with what he was given. “Sounds like someone is turning into a fun sponge.”

  She stiffened as if she hadn’t been arguing for that not ten minutes ago. “I beg your pardon.”

  “The void of happiness.”

  “I’m no such thing.”

  “The black hole of delight.” He waited only until she opened her mouth to retaliate before bestowing a liberal wink. “Don’t worry. Holes of delight happen to be one of my specialties.”

  With a gasp and a blush, Lila turned on her heel and stalked out. He watched her go with a combination of admiration and regret. Admiration, because there was no doubt in his mind that Lila Vasquez was a woman worth getting to know. Regret, because knowing women—in the literal sense, in the Biblical sense, in any sense that mattered—was something he’d done without since the day his ex-wife had left, determined that one of them, at least, should make something of their life.

  She’d done it, too, her professional accolades gathering by the dozen. It made his own accomplishments look paltry by comparison. Ford Ford might be able to make the young, unmarried ladies laugh, but that was only because he wasn’t in a place to offer them anything else.

  And that, unfortunately, was his real specialty these days.

  Chapter 3

  “Knock, knock!”

  No sooner had Ford pulled his trusty, if ancient, minivan into his driveway than a singsong voice hailed him from behind a snow berm. The problem with winters in Spokane wasn’t the cold weather or the heavy snowfall, both of which he liked, but the fact that those giant mounds of plowed snow were the perfect hiding places. Not only did they conceal l
ittle girls who had a love of snowball fights while he was trying to unload groceries, but they also made it impossible for him to see women like Helen Griswold until they were practically on top of him.

  “It’s freezing out here!” She laughed as she knocked again—this time with her glove-covered knuckles on the driver’s-side window. She also made a liberal rolling motion with her hand.

  “Don’t do it, Daddy,” Emily warned from the back seat. “Me’nember what happened last time?”

  Alas, he me’nembered. He me’nembered all too well. It had taken two hours and a promise to attend her annual Christmas block party to get rid of Helen. Unfortunately, one of them had to be the adult in this car.

  That adult was him. It was always him.

  “Don’t be rude, Emily,” he said with a severity he was far from feeling. Complying with Helen’s request to open the window, he turned and put on his blandest smile. “Hello, Helen. You’re looking positively radiant today. Or maybe that’s just the frostbite settling onto your cheeks.”

  She blinked her hazel eyes, which were, in fact, looking quite nice. Snowflakes had caught in the lashes and were sparkling in the midday sun. When matched with the rosy glow of her ice-kissed cheekbones and the knit cap pulled down around her ears, she was an unquestionably attractive woman.

  She was also an unquestionably nosy one.

  “Oh, you,” she said with a titter and a flash of teeth that Ford had to admit were a little too white for his tastes. Maybe Lila was onto something with that whole gleaming-enamel thing. There was something unsettling about it. “Always such a jokester. I haven’t been out here long. I saw you pull up the street and dashed right out. Is Emily with you?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she leaned forward and popped her head in the window. “Oh, there you are, love,” she said, raising her voice to a near-shout and painfully enunciating each syllable. “And how are you today?”

  “Daddy,” Emily said by way of answer. “Jeeves has to pee.”

  “Good afternoon, Em-ee-lee,” Helen repeated, louder this time.