Puppy Love

by Lucy Gilmore

  Hypothermia was the least of Lila’s worries. Flushed with a combination of embarrassment, confusion, and—most of all—a pleasurable warmth that had more to do with Ford’s bare chest than she cared to admit, Lila was in much more danger of melting through the snow.

  Not that she allowed any of it to show. Even with her scant knowledge of princesses, she knew that at least one of them lived in a remote ice castle up on a hill. Of all the royal personas she might adopt for her own, that seemed the most apt for a woman like her.

  Especially when faced with a man like him.

  Chapter 5

  “So, the primary goal is for this little guy to become your second pair of ears.” Lila sat cross-legged in front of Emily, talking to the child in a low, calm tone that was making it difficult for Ford to concentrate on his work. “Any sound that you think is important, we’ll also teach Jeeves is important. That way, if you miss it for whatever reason—because you’re doing your homework or watching cartoons or just not having a good day—he can remind you.”

  Emily nodded solemnly, her eyes wide as she sat at attention next to her puppy and absorbed the importance of what Lila was telling her. Ford was trying not to interfere and had turned his chair away from the three of them in hopes that he could focus on the coffee-maker manual he was drawing, but it was difficult.

  And not just because there was a gorgeous woman on his living room floor in a golden sweater with her hair swept up in an elaborate crown of braids. The fact that she’d made a genuine effort to look regal was enough to cement her in his heart forever. That she spoke to his daughter as if she were a miniature adult, capable of making her own decisions, was going to be the end of him.

  “I’ll start. One of the sounds I think is super important is a smoke alarm. Have you heard one of those before?”

  Emily giggled. “Only when Daddy burns the toast.”

  “I like a nice char on my bread,” he called over his shoulder. “Crispy and full of flavor.”

  Lila ignored him. Ever since that morning’s encounter with Helen, she’d been doing that a lot—she and Emily both. With the kind of determination rarely seen in a child three times her age, Emily had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the puppy training.

  She’s just like her mother. And, come to think of it, like Lila.

  “Now it’s your turn,” Lila said. “What sounds are important to you?”

  Ford turned back to his drafting desk, determined to concentrate on illustrating the best water reservoir in the history of coffee makers, but it was no use. Emily and Lila were having way more fun than him.

  “I like it when the roosters crow at Grandma Louise’s house. She has eight chickens.”

  “That’s an excellent sound,” Lila agreed.

  “Are you sure about that?” Ford asked. “Emily failed to mention that of the eight chickens, seven of them are roosters. When they really get going, they’re like a choir of sopranos with their throats cut. And usually well before dawn.”

  “Roosters are kind of like alarm clocks, aren’t they?” Lila persisted, still ignoring him. “We can put alarm clocks on our list. That’s a good one. Oh! And how about when a car is driving down the road? There are a lot of different traffic sounds we can teach Jeeves.”

  “Including the ice-cream truck?” Emily asked, getting into the spirit of things.

  “Especially the ice-cream truck.” Lila’s pen tapped against the pad of paper in a thoughtful pause. “Let’s see, what else… The doorbell, maybe? For when your friends come over to play?”

  Ford whipped around and shook his head, but it was no use. Lila wasn’t looking at him and therefore couldn’t see the warning he was trying to send her way.

  “No, thank you.”

  “You don’t have a doorbell? That’s okay. Knocking works, too. Jeeves is really smart. We can teach him that they mean the same thing.”

  “No.”

  “Well, maybe we could just add it in case—”

  “No, no, no, no, NO!” Emily’s vehemence grew with each repetition.

  “Are you not allowed to answer the door?” Now Lila gave him her attention, her head swiveling toward his. “We don’t have to teach her to open it—only to know that there’s someone there. In case you’re in the shower or something.”

  Ford tried to make the quick motion of a knife across his throat, but Emily’s face had already started to crumple in on itself, all of her placid happiness coming to a crushing halt. At the sight of it, Ford’s heart started to do the same, clenching with a familiar sensation of frustration and helplessness.

  “This is a stupid game,” Emily announced. Her thumb went automatically to her mouth, her other hand clutching Jeeves around the neck. The puppy took it like the true gentleman his name suggested, determined to absorb his lady’s suffering no matter the cost. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

  Lila looked as though she wanted to protest, but Ford just nodded. “Jeeves could probably use a break. Why don’t you take him to your room for a few minutes?”

  Emily gave a resolute sniffle, but there was little she could do to prevent the tears from gathering in her eyes. She held her head high as she marched through the living room, her puppy on floppy legs as he trailed in her wake.

  “What did I say?” Lila asked as soon as Emily had slammed the bedroom door behind her. The house was so small that the action caused the pictures to rattle on the walls, but Ford wouldn’t punish her for it. A slammed door was preferable to the withdrawn silence that so often took over. “Do you guys have a rule about guests that I should know about?”

  Ford sighed and scrubbed a hand over his jaw, momentarily forgetting that he had a tendency to get ink all over his fingers while he sketched. “No, there’s no rule. In fact, teaching Jeeves to recognize a knock on the door should probably go to the top of the list. In case you didn’t notice, neighbors around here have a tendency to drop by at all hours and on the flimsiest of excuses.”

  At the mention of Helen and those empty coffee cups waiting to be returned, Lila’s entire body stilled. “I’m sure it’s none of my business,” she said.

  “Are you?” He sighed. “I’m not. Not after I let Helen walk away without setting the record straight.”

  Color mounted in her cheeks, but not by so much as a flutter of an eyelash did she show any other signs of discomposure. Which was probably for the best, now that he thought about it. At least one of them needed to have some dignity around here, and it obviously wasn’t going to be him.

  It never was. For as long as Ford could remember, he’d been lacking all those skills that would set him apart as a man of the world. He wasn’t particularly driven. He had few ambitions outside of Emily’s well-being. And he hadn’t had a relationship—not a real one, anyway—in years.

  It was why he was so good at the Helens of the world. The women in his life looked at him and saw not the shitty ex-husbands who’d left them to raise their children on their own, and not a man who had the potential to break their hearts, but someone who made them laugh. Someone safe. A game.

  In other words, he was Ford Ford: charming and fun, flirtatious and harmless, great to have at parties.

  And never, under any circumstances, to be taken seriously.

  “I was hoping it would be a few weeks before we got to this point, but we might as well have the truth out now.” He held out a hand to help Lila to her feet, but she only stared at his palm as though it might bite her. Since there seemed nothing else to do, he settled on the floor next to her instead.

  He took up much more space than Emily did, which meant that by the time he found a comfortable spot between the coffee table and the wooden castle pushed up against one wall, his long legs extended in front of him, Lila was practically ensconced in his lap.

  She didn’t shift, though. Not away from him, but not closer to him, either. He was starting to realize that the stillness of her bearing, the careful way she both spoke and moved, was as much a part of her as those dark,
penetrating eyes.

  He rested his head back on the seat of the couch and sighed. It was a nice change, this restful way of hers. A man could get used to it. Especially one as exhausted as him. Taking care of a puppy in the middle of the night was almost as much work as having an infant.

  “You have a smudge of ink on your face,” she said by way of breaking the silence.

  He grunted a noncommittal reply. He always had ink on his face. Either that or finger paint or mashed potatoes or, for reasons he’d never been able to fathom, nail polish. No matter how hard he tried to keep it on Emily’s fingers and toes, it invariably ended up all over his person. Usually the carpet, too.

  He was nothing if not classy.

  Lila grew silent again, once more lulling him into a feeling of peacefulness. He tried to gather his thoughts, to marshal them into the easiest way to make Lila understand the unique position that he and Emily found themselves in, but they seemed a hazy, faraway thing. Just for a few minutes, he wanted to bask in the quiet, to enjoy the light scent of Lila’s peach perfume and the warmth of the heater kicking on behind them.

  And bask in it, he did. Ripe peaches and soft, supple skin were the last two things he remembered before he drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  Lila was having a difficult time deciding which was worse: being so uptight that Anya Askari feared she’d make small children cry, or being so boring that a man fell asleep within seconds of sitting down beside her.

  “He could at least have had the decency to drool,” she muttered as she tiptoed down the hall to the closed door she assumed belonged to Emily. The yellow heart stickers plastered all over the bottom half were a good indication she was on the right track. “But, no. He looks just as good sleeping as he does awake.”

  It was his long, dark lashes that did it, curving against his cheekbone like a delicate fall of black lace. Eyelashes that beautiful were so unfair on a man, especially when combined with those clear blue eyes and cheekbones like the metal frame of a skyscraper. No woman stood a chance.

  Not Lila or, apparently, coffee-cup Helen.

  Since they hadn’t had time to work on door alerts yet, she decided to head right in, turning the knob with a gentle snick. The girl didn’t look up right away, which Lila took to mean she hadn’t heard her come in, but Jeeves already knew his role and went to nudge Emily’s hand. His little black nose sought purchase against her palm and remained that way until Emily noticed and glanced up.

  “Hey, Emily,” Lila said with what she hoped was a casual air. Turning her attention to the diligent cockapoo, she added, “Good boy, Jeeves. Good alert.”

  Her pockets were always full of treats for a training session, so she handed one wordlessly to Emily. Like Jeeves, the girl was already learning her job well. She repeated Lila’s praise and held her hand out for the puppy to take the reward.

  The lick on her palm made Emily giggle. That, in turn, lifted about eighty tons of weight off Lila’s shoulders. She didn’t know why the sight of that girl’s huge tear-filled eyes had caused such a pang, but they had. Especially since she was pretty sure it was something she’d said that had put them there.

  “Your dad is taking a nap,” she said quietly, careful to face Emily so the girl could see her lips.

  “I hate naps,” Emily supplied.

  “Me too. They’re such a waste, aren’t they? When there are so many other things to do?”

  Emily nodded, still too sober for Lila’s peace of mind. Admittedly, her knowledge of children was small, but they were supposed to be exuberant, hyper little things, weren’t they? Like untrained puppies, bouncing from one room to the next.

  She remembered that Sophie and Dawn had always been that way. Technically, she was only two years older than Dawn and four more than Soph, but she’d always felt more mature than her age. Even as kids, her sisters had been the ones to chatter and play and make up games that lasted for hours at a time. All while Lila had watched, set apart, wondering what it was about her that turned every party into a wake.

  “Can you braid my hair like yours?” Emily asked suddenly. “Like a royal crown?”

  More pleased than she cared to admit that Emily noticed her concession to the princess persona, Lila jumped at the chance. “Of course.” She dropped the two fingers of her right hand over two fingers of her left—the ASL sign for sit—and patted the space between her legs. She wasn’t very well-educated in sign language, but considering how much Emily lit up to see her make the attempt, she resolved to improve her studies.

  Emily obliged with the request, settling onto her knees and holding herself perfectly still in front of Lila. Turning around, she said, “Daddy makes me sit like this. No wriggles. No talking. Else he messes up.”

  “Can your dad braid?” Lila asked, impressed. Her own father could barely manage a ponytail holder without snapping his fingers off. With three daughters and a wife who excelled at hair duties, there’d never been any need for him to learn.

  “Not like you,” Emily confessed as she turned back around. Whatever uneasiness had been left between them fled in that moment. Lila had no idea if it was the mention of Ford that had done it, or if the mere act of running her fingers through the girl’s corn-silk hair was the cause, but Emily’s guard dropped. “Ms. Helen and Ms. Maddie taught him how. Ms. Helen only gots boys, but Ms. Maddie has a little girl like me.”

  “Oh?” Lila murmured. She doubted Emily could hear her, seated as they were, so she didn’t press the issue.

  As it turned out, there was no need. Emily pressed it for her. “Her name is June. She knows all about bugs and how to jump off swings so you get super high. She doesn’t want to be my friend.”

  Lila had no idea what to make of this, so she focused on the intricate twists of Emily’s hair instead. Her cochlear implants made some of the side bits a little tricky, but Lila had done her sisters’ hair so many times that she was something of an expert.

  “Byron and Neil don’t want to be my friend, either. Nobody does.”

  This time, Lila was moved enough to voice a protest, but she stopped herself short. Ford might have found her company so unstimulating that he fell asleep rather than explain Emily’s outburst, but the little girl seemed to have no such qualms. She was explaining plenty.

  “They have to play with me a’cos their moms make them, but it’s not the same as having a real friend.” For the first time, Emily showed a tendency to squirm, twisting until she was looking up at Lila. “Do you have real friends?”

  Lila was startled enough by the question that she grabbed a rubber band and twisted it around Emily’s hair to hold her place. Emily didn’t seem to mind that it took Lila so long to gather her thoughts. She sat patiently with Jeeves in her lap, an expectant look in her eyes.

  “Well, I have two sisters,” Lila eventually confessed.

  “And the evil prince brother?”

  “Er, yes,” she fibbed, remembering her cover story. “Him too. But my sisters aren’t evil. They’re very nice, actually.”

  “Like you?”

  That startled her even more. “Much nicer,” she said. “We work on training puppies together, so we spend a lot of time in one another’s company. But as for friends, real friends, the kind of friends I’m not related to, no. I don’t have many.”

  Emily sighed wistfully. “Don’t you want some?”

  That was the most startling question of all. It had never occurred to Lila to question the number of friends she had in her life. She had acquaintances aplenty—work colleagues and old college study buddies, as well as the rare handful of ex-boyfriends she wasn’t ashamed to own up to. What they didn’t provide in terms of social stimulation, her sisters did. Rarely a day went by without the three of them sharing dinner or drinks or, as was more often the case, a barrage of invasive questions and general lack of privacy.

  For some reason, Lila felt that didn’t count. She loved Sophie and Dawn so much it hurt sometimes, her whole world wrapped up in everything the
y said and did. But if they’d met as strangers, she doubted either of them would have wanted anything to do with her. They were both so much fun, so alive, so unafraid to put themselves out there.

  So unlike me.

  “I do want some, actually,” Lila admitted. “How about you?”

  Emily nodded solemnly.

  “Is that why you don’t want to teach Jeeves about the door? Because no one comes by to play?”

  Emily nodded again, her lower lip quivering. Lila had never seen anything so tragic. What was the matter with the kids on this street that they’d reduce this poor, lonely creature to tears? She had half a mind to storm over to Helen’s house and chuck those coffee cups at the door, demanding answers. But although that might be something Dawn would do—in fact, she was pretty sure her sister had thrown a tire iron at a man’s house—Lila was a model of decorum. She always had been.

  She was not, however, heartless.

  “I know that you and I haven’t known each other long, but maybe I could be your friend?” she offered. “I’m not very fun, and I don’t know any jokes, but—”

  “Daddy!” Emily sprang to her feet before Lila could finish her tentative offer. From the way Ford leaned against the doorframe, his legs casually crossed at the ankle and an unreadable expression on his face, she had a feeling he’d been there a while. “Princess Lila is doing my hair in a crown like hers.”

  “I see that. It’s very fetching on you both.”

  “And she’s going to be my friend. My real friend.”

  “Is she?” That unreadable expression melted into a smile. It was a good smile, all devastating attraction and lopsided charm. Lila felt her heart stutter at the sight. “I’m glad. That means it’ll be much easier for me to make her mine.”

  Lila knew, from a semantic standpoint, that Ford was speaking of friendship. Having his daughter and her dog trainer on friendly terms meant that it would be that much easier for he and the dog trainer to be on friendly terms. That was all.