Ruff Around the Edges

by Roxanne St Claire

  Yes. No. Damn, she wasn’t going there.

  Because if he got one whiff that she had so much as a single cell firing up over the sight of his big hands and blue eyes and shoulders that looked like they were made for a woman to claw with her nails, his next approach would be a charm offensive. And if a man as insistent and relentless as Aidan Kilcannon turned that charm on her, she might actually weaken for his claims that Ruff belonged to him.

  And that wasn’t happening, come hell, high water, or sexy hands.

  Instantly, she spun on her heel, rounded the counter, and headed for the fridge to gather the ingredients for salads. She slipped into work mode, lining up bowls, adding cherry tomatoes, sending the uninspired concoctions to the pass. Uncle Mike would have cut the cucumbers with cool edges, sliced the olives, and made sure every salad was topped with a jaunty sprig of something fresh. But she wasn’t Uncle Mike and couldn’t have made edged cucumbers if her life depended on it.

  Who’d care?

  “That was a sorry-looking salad,” Aidan mused as he passed.

  She closed her eyes and grunted. “They don’t come for the salad.”

  “From the way you’re acting over a lunch rush, I’m starting to think they don’t come at all.”

  She gave a careless shrug. “Well, this group did, for whatever reason. All the pizzas in the oven?”

  “Yep. Where’s the rest of the dough?”

  “I have some proofing in the refrigerator, but I honestly thought it would be for dinner, not lunch.”

  He bent down to peer through the glass into the dining area. “I saw three more people come in.”

  She blinked in shock. “What is going on?”

  “Um, lunch?”

  “Haven’t had a lunch like this in a long time.”

  He grinned. “I must be your lucky charm.”

  Just then, the kitchen door flew open, and Aunt Sarah came in with her face flushed. “They’re travel agents!” she announced. “Apparently, a busload of them are on a tour through North Carolina small towns.”

  “That’s great,” Aidan said. “They’ll tell their clients to come if the pizza’s good.”

  “Big if,” Aunt Sarah muttered, but Beck wasn’t going to stand here and discuss it when there were actual paying customers pouring into Slice of Heaven.

  “Did you get the order for those three new customers?” she asked her aunt.

  “I sent them away,” she said.

  “What?” Aidan and Beck asked the question in perfect, shocked unison.

  “They had a dog.” She held out her hands as if that was all that needed to be said. And, of course, it was.

  “Didn’t read the sign, huh?” Beck said as she wiped down the salad-making counter.

  “Oh, they saw the sign, but they were in line outside of Ricardo’s and saw you come in here with…” She pointed toward the ceiling and, Beck assumed, the apartment above them.

  “My new dog, Ruff?”

  Sarah actually smiled, either at the name or the idea.

  “He is,” Beck insisted. “Aidan kindly brought him all the way from Afghanistan. He was Charlie’s dog.”

  Sarah blinked as if Beck had spoken in Greek and not a word made sense.

  “And he’ll live upstairs, with me, as long as I’m here, then I’ll take him back to Chicago,” Beck finished. “You don’t have to have anything to do with him.”

  Her aunt opened her mouth to argue, but the front bell rang, indicating even more guests had walked in. Sarah and Beck shared a shocked look, too slammed to argue over the dog.

  “You better make more salads and start the next pie,” Sarah said, turning toward the dining room. “I’ll get their order.”

  “Unless they have a dog,” Aidan muttered, opening the oven door.

  Beck sighed. “Yeah. She’s really got her heels dug in on that topic.”

  “Maybe you could tell her what’s what.” He opened the oven and slid a rickety old metal peel under a pie. “You’re awfully good at it.” He turned and caught her gaze, a glimmer in his blue eyes.

  “Was I mean?”

  “You were…strong,” he said, shimmying the peel to get the pie in the middle. “Reminded me of Charlie.”

  That made her smile as she walked to the shelves to get more salad bowls.

  “And it’s pretty hot,” he added.

  She closed her eyes. Yep, he went there. Already. “You mean the pizza? It’s supposed to be hot.”

  He just laughed, and Beck could feel the ground shift under her feet. Oh no you don’t, Aidan Kilcannon.

  But then she saw a pie coming out of the oven, as golden and perfect and bubbling as if Uncle Mike himself had made it.

  “Oh…wow.” She didn’t even eat pizza, and she could tell he’d nailed it.

  He lifted his brows, and his lips curled in a smile. “I could teach you for—”

  She glared at him. “The answer is no. Ruff is mine.”

  But something in his smile scared her. Like he didn’t plan on taking no for an answer where Ruff was concerned.

  Well, too bad. She had the letter. He had…a story. And the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

  Chapter Six

  “That’s the last of them.” Sarah Leone practically collapsed in a heap as she came in from the dining room after the short, but intense, lunch rush. She eyed Aidan as he wiped down a counter, mouthing the words, Thank you. Like she couldn’t actually say it, but had to.

  He responded with a simple nod, understanding how hard it must be to have him here. Every time she looked at him, she had to think of Charlie.

  “I’ll go up and check on Ruff,” he said, having been waiting for the all clear from a steady stream of pizza-and dough-making to do that.

  “I can check on him,” Beck called from the back. “I was on my way.”

  “I should go with you.” Aidan headed her off before she got all the way out of the fridge. “Ruff might not react well to a total stranger.”

  Beck sailed by him with an armful of clean salad bowls, turning to her aunt. “Ignore that, Aunt Sarah. Ruff is fine. Harmless. Big and clumsy, is all.” She shot a look over her shoulder as if to say, Like someone else around here.

  Of course. He’d totally forgotten about her aunt’s fear, so he really shouldn’t be talking like Ruff was a troubled dog that should scare her. “And we haven’t heard any barking,” he added quickly. “I bet he’s been sound asleep for the last two hours.”

  “I’ll get him.” Beck dumped her bowls and stripped off her apron.

  “He knows me.” He blocked her from the door.

  “He’s my dog.”

  “But he might…lick you. He’s persistent like that, and the drool?” He shook his hands like they were dripping. “You’ll hate it.”

  “I’ll love it.” She inched closer. “Move, Kilcannon, or I’ll hate you.”

  For a long moment, they faced each other in a standoff. What if she went up there and Ruff greeted her with his usual you’ve been gone for two hours and look how miserable I am face? All bets were off. Misery face was irresistible.

  The stare-down ended when Sarah cleared her throat. “Well, I for one am not going up there. I’m off to check on my husband. I suggest you use the door at the bottom of the stairs to take him out on Ambrose Avenue.” Aidan got the impression that was as close to permission to keep the dog as Sarah was going to give.

  “Bye, Aunt Sarah,” Beck said without taking her gaze off of Aidan.

  Finally, he gave in, moving to the side so she could go through the side door that led to the stairs. She was in such a hurry, she didn’t even close it behind her.

  At least Ruff wasn’t unwanted.

  Wait, was he giving up? Not a chance. He took a step toward the door, just as he heard a moan of pure disbelief.

  “Oh my God…” The soft exclamation came floating down, followed by a whiny, moaning sigh of…remorse. Ruff’s remorse. Only slightly more endearing than misery face, but it always followed so
mething very, very bad.

  “That’s my boy,” Aidan whispered to himself. No doubt, he’d left a chewed sofa. An unrolled trail of toilet paper. Maybe a nice big pile of—

  “What did you do?” Beck’s voice rose with the question, cracking on the last word.

  Exactly what Ruff the Wonder Dog would be expected to do. Trouble with a capital T. Aidan bit back a triumphant laugh as he headed up the steps two at a time, coming to a sudden stop at the open doorway where Beck stood in utter shock.

  Oh man. This was bad. Even for Ruff, this was…serious.

  “Is paint toxic?” she asked softly. Considering that the sofa, floor, most of the boxes, and pretty much every visible surface was covered in a light turquoise paint, the last thing he’d expected her to be concerned about was Ruff’s safety.

  “Dude. What did you do?” Aidan inched by the shell-shocked woman to see Ruff flat out in the middle of the floor, his paws covered in paint, the open, empty can next to him, his face spotted with the color.

  He stood, barked, and lifted both paint-covered paws in greeting. Aidan snagged his feet, holding the big dog steady on his back legs while he examined the state of his mouth. “He didn’t eat any,” he said. “He was too busy playing in it.”

  “Oh my.” She came in as Aidan lifted the dog and got him off the ground.

  He didn’t even have to say, I told you so, since the paint kind of spoke for itself. He did have to keep himself from laughing, rewarding Ruff with affection, or asking her when he could take the dog home.

  Of course Ruff would have his back. He was Charlie reincarnated. “Is there a bathtub?” he asked.

  “Right through that door on the right.”

  “I’ll clean him up, then get the rest of this.”

  “I’ve got it,” she said, totally unfazed. “There are rags and cleaning supplies downstairs.” And off she went, with no tirade, no tears, no foot-stomping or fury.

  But she had to be seething inside, right? Seething and ready to give up this crazy idea.

  “Ruff ‘N’ Ready, you are such a hero,” he muttered into the dog’s ear as he hoisted him up to avoid even more paint on the floor. “I mean, bad boy!” He turned his head toward the door so she’d hear the reprimand.

  The dog barked once, sharply, as if to say, It was nothing. And then a few more times, which Aidan took as Ruff’s reminder that he didn’t like to be alone in a strange place, and oh, by the way, isn’t paint fun?

  Fighting a smile, he managed to get the beast into the bathtub and turn the water on, which pleased Ruff to no end. He let out a few happy barks, because this dog loved nothing more than a good bath and probably thought he was being richly rewarded for his horrific behavior.

  Which he was.

  The paint must have been water-soluble, as it washed off easily, leaving a greenish-blue tint on the white tub that Aidan was sure would remind her every time she took a shower what a bad idea this dog was.

  He closed his eyes as the image of her doing just that slipped into his brain, as unexpected and unwelcome as her laid-back reaction to this crisis. Okay, she was cool under pressure and pretty as a picture and not the pushover he’d kind of hoped she’d be. And she worried about the toxic paints. And don’t even think about her in the shower.

  She had plenty of points in her pro column, but no reason to retreat. He’d vanquished more formidable enemies, and he would again.

  As he ran each monster paw under the faucet, Aidan listened for any noise from the apartment, but didn’t hear Beck.

  “I think we may have won this one, big boy.” He scrubbed hard, getting between the dog’s giant toenails, which might take on a permanent shade of turquoise.

  Ruff answered by swatting the water like an elephant at play, panting at the pure fun of it. So Aidan took his time, but not too much so Ruff didn’t start associating this apartment with bath-time fun.

  Aidan finished the job by turning on the shower and closing the curtain, hoping that helped clean the tub and knowing Ruff was in dog heaven now. Not seeing a towel, he bent over to open a cabinet under the sink, and as he did, the curtain behind him came crashing down. Ruff was instantly over the pile of plastic, lunging for the door before Aidan took another breath.

  Dude was killing it today.

  Aidan shot up, ran after him, and barely caught him by the collar as Ruff went careening across the living room floor. The two of them stopped right next to a stunned Beck, who was on her hands and knees trying to get paint off the hardwood floor.

  Next to her, Ruff gave a world-class shake, raining water over Beck and turning the paint into a blue-green puddle.

  “Told you he’s a really, really bad dog.”

  “He’s a good dog, right, Ruff?” She put her hand on his head, spreading her slender fingers, and trying to press like he had. Which only made Ruff shake again and start to bark furiously.

  She closed her eyes for a quick second in frustration, but then brightened. “Can you show me how you do that thing on his head?”

  Aidan had opened his mouth to tell her that her hands weren’t big enough when she held one up to stop him.

  “Don’t tell me I’m not strong enough. Or big enough. Or man enough. Or worthy enough. Just tell me what to do.”

  Chastised, he leaned back and let his backside hit the floor, keeping his mouth firmly shut, because she was all those things, and more. Well, maybe not man enough, but she was woman enough, all right. And that only made her more formidable.

  Then he opened his hand wide and reached for Ruff’s head. “If you put gentle pressure in the heel of your hand and flutter your thumb and baby finger under his ears, he usually calms right down.”

  He demonstrated, and instantly, the barking stopped and Ruff sat on his haunches, tongue out in a noisy pant as he looked from one to the other, waiting for praise.

  “Good boy, Ruff,” she said, trying and failing to make eye contact. “You’re a good boy.”

  “Beck.”

  She gave Aidan a questioning look.

  “Aren’t you mad? Disgusted? Ready to scream at the beast for wrecking the place and getting on your last nerve?”

  Still on her knees, she locked gazes with Aidan, her dark brown eyes so mesmerizing he wondered how Ruff managed to not get snared by them. “I’m not changing my mind, if that’s where you’re going.” Then she turned to the dog. “You get that, Ruff? We’ll figure this out. We’ll dog-proof, paint-proof, goof-proof this place. We’ll go on walks and watch sunsets and take Sunday drives with the windows down, and we’ll sleep in front of the TV, and when you’re really good and Aunt Sarah isn’t around, we’ll take you over to see Uncle Mike, because he secretly loves dogs. You got that, kiddo?”

  Aidan could feel victory slipping away. How could he compete with sunsets and Sunday drives and long nights with a beautiful woman? Lucky dog.

  “Well, you are being remarkably chill about this mess,” he noted.

  “Messes get cleaned up, Aidan.” She turned back to the floor, her hair half out of the ponytail now and covering most of her face. She took a swipe with a wet rag that took the paint right off the floor.

  As she reached for the next spot, Ruff walked in front of her and slapped a paw in the paint puddle, splashing it everywhere.

  “Geez, Ruff, give the girl a break.” Aidan reached for his collar and pulled the dog back, noticing then that Beck’s narrow shoulders were shaking. “Oh man, are you crying?”

  She looked up, but those weren’t tears in her eyes. “Oh my God, no.” They sparked with humor, and her straight, white teeth were on full display as she let out a belly laugh, then gasped for air and laughed again.

  “You think this is funny?”

  “I think it’s hilarious,” she managed, shaking her head and using the back of her wrist to wipe her eye. “Wonderfully funny. Don’t you?”

  It would be if she weren’t so damn understanding. That’s not what should happen. She should freak out and make the dog leave, and thi
s whole thing would be over. But she was laughing and pretty. Why hadn’t Charlie told him how pretty his sister was? Or that he had a dog named Ruff when they were kids? Or that he’d written to her and given her his dog?

  “I’m a little ashamed of his behavior,” he finally said. And maybe a little ashamed of himself. Maybe it was time to admit defeat.

  “Don’t be. He’s not yours.”

  That wiped his smile away. “Beck, Charlie told me to keep him. He insisted. I know I don’t have a paper trail, but you can see how connected we are. And you…” He swallowed while she let him dig himself deeper, but he didn’t know how to make the same argument again when it was obvious she was intractable. “You…”

  “I have a letter from my brother. Do you want to see it? I don’t have it with me, but my friend and partner at work can send it to me. I can tell her where to find it in my apartment. She can text a picture of it to me in an hour, if that will get you to back off.”

  He held up a hand to stop her. There had to be another way. “What would you say to shared custody?”

  “That he’ll only be harder to handle when I get him back. Sorry, no.”

  “How about I find you another boxer? Exactly like him. My family can find any dog anywhere. We’ll rescue a boxer, name him Ruff, and hand-deliver him to your door. Trained, even.”

  For a long time, the only sound in the room was Ruff’s steady, noisy panting.

  “I want this dog, not a dog,” she said softly. “Because he is Charlie.”

  He frowned at that. “They were inseparable, that’s true.”

  “That explains so much.” She reached out to scratch Ruff’s head, but he inched away. “This dog is exactly like him. Kind of klutzy, very endearing, all boy, and all heart. If my brother came back as a dog, he’d be Ruff.” She stretched her arm again, but Ruff wanted no part of her touch. “Only, he’d like me.”

  “If your brother came back in any form, the world would be a better place.” Aidan easily managed to pet Ruff’s head, using the gesture to cover the pain that engulfed him. “Guess you already know that.”