“I do.” Beck sat back on her heels, sighing. “And it’s so important to me to do what he wanted and keep this dog.”
“That’s exactly what’s important to me. More than anything, I want to honor Charlie’s wishes. Yes, I love Ruff. And need him, but at the bottom of this is respecting what Charlie wanted.”
“If I didn’t have that letter, I’d give him to you.”
If she didn’t have that letter, Ruff wouldn’t be hers to give.
One more time, they locked gazes, both of them immovable in their position. Both, in a way, right. And both motivated by love for the same person.
“He’s been through a lot,” she finally said. “Shipped overseas, and everything is new. He needs some time.”
He couldn’t argue that. Ruff would settle down. He’d never be an easy dog, but she’d get the hang of it. Damn it.
She held her hand out to Ruff as a peace offering, but he trotted a few steps away.
She narrowed her eyes with a gleam of determination that Aidan already knew to respect. “You might not want me, big boy, but I want you.”
“Ah, Ruff,” Aidan said, shaking his head. “When a beautiful woman says something like that, you know what you have to do.”
Ruff slowly lifted one leg in front of the sofa.
“Oh no you don’t!” Aidan lunged at him, averting the disaster. “Outside, dumb-ass.” Standing, he tugged on the collar, forgoing the leash in case Ruff was serious about peeing right then and there. “Where did your aunt want me to take him?”
“Me,” she corrected. “She wanted me to take my dog out the back door at the bottom of the stairs. It leads to the street, not the alley.” Pushing up, she wiped a wet, paint-splattered hand on her jeans. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
She headed down the stairs ahead of them, with enough bounce in her step to make him wonder if anything threw this woman. Also, enough bounce for him to appreciate that the back of her was every bit as attractive and feminine as the front. Ruff gave a good bark in her direction, as if he didn’t know what to make of this startling, strong, stunning new creature, either.
All Aidan knew was that he had to back off and regroup. Retreat, not defeat.
Chapter Seven
“I need dog help.”
“Um, Beck? I have two cats.” On the other end of her phone, Jackie Saunders gave a low, throaty laugh that instantly sent a warm feeling of familiarity and comfort through Beck. From the day they’d met as first-year art students, Jackie had been Beck’s sounding board and the closest thing to a sister she’d ever had. “But I know a little about dogs, since my mom never met a rescue she wouldn’t keep. So it’s not going well with the new puppy?”
Beck put her coffee cup on the table, her gaze on Ruff, who was flat on his belly, facing forward, staring straight ahead, as he had been since she’d brought him in from a morning stroll through the square. The walk had lasted exactly nine minutes, when Ruff did his business and slowly trudged home like an inmate who didn’t have the spirit to make the most of his time in the prison yard.
“He’s not a puppy,” Beck said. “Don’t think this is a cute little squirmy ball of adorable we’re talking about here. He’s almost eighty pounds of solid muscle and used to be wild, joyous, and noisy.”
“Maybe he’s finally settling down,” Jackie suggested. “Animals need time to get used to new surroundings. You said he was completely out of control, so this should be a good thing.”
Beck stood and crossed the small living room, crouching down to pet Ruff’s head. He turned away from her instantly. “He doesn’t like me,” she admitted softly.
“He’ll like anyone who’ll feed him, walk him, and love him. It takes time.”
Beck shook her head. “He’s not eating at all. The first few days here, he’d tromp back and forth between the door and window and stare outside and bark at dogs in the square and eat bowls of food, but now he just…slumps.”
“He’s depressed,” Jackie said. “That happened to my mom’s last rescue for a few weeks, but he came out of it.”
“I guess,” she agreed, sitting back down. “His whole personality has changed. What should I do?”
“Well, if he’s not eating, you have to take him to a vet, Beck. Is anyone open on a Sunday?”
“I can check, but…” She dropped back on the couch. “Small complication. The vet in town is a Kilcannon. Aidan’s sister.”
“So? She’s part of the dog family. She’s probably a great vet.”
“I don’t want him to know I’m failing with Ruff.”
“Beck.” She could hear the chiding in Jackie’s voice of reason. For an edgy glass artist who could disappear for a solid weekend when working on a piece, Jackie had an uncanny logic about her that Beck loved and needed.
That trait worked in every aspect of their friendship, from sharing problems to running Beck’s business schedule, which Jackie did with flair. If her glass artistry ever took off and Jackie didn’t need her job at Baby Face, Beck would be hard-pressed to find an assistant so organized and efficient. And she’d never find a more honest, loyal friend.
“Where’s my Little Miss Sunshine?” Jackie asked.
Beck smiled at the nickname that Jackie had given her when they first became friends. They’d met on student housing move-in day at the Illinois School of Art, drank their first bottle of wine together that night, and stayed up in Jackie’s room until almost dawn. That night, they made pacts for change, as college students did.
Jackie was going to stop seeing herself as a misfit and embrace her artistry, and Beck vowed to adopt her mother’s mantra and find the positive in every situation. Jackie dubbed her Little Miss Sunshine, but Beck, after too much wine, couldn’t do better than Artsie Fartsie in return, which became the first of a million inside jokes they shared.
“Little Miss Sunshine is back in Bitter Bark, Fartsie, and you know what that means.”
“It means you’re meandering down memory lane, bumping into ghosts of the past, and wallowing in your darkest, pizza-filled days of your youth.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You know me so well. Most of the time, I’m able to stay directed and positive. But too much time in Bitter Bark, and I might revert.”
“You can’t change who you’ve become in the last ten years, Beck. And Ruff isn’t the only one suffering from the blues. You miss your life, your job, and Wine Wednesdays with me.”
She smiled at their after-work tradition when they finished hump day and celebrated with their favorite Pinot Noir. “I do miss you.”
“And your life and job?”
“Of course I miss work.” But life? A few dinners with friends, volunteering at a local high school once a month to teach kids photography, and the occasional yoga class or bike ride on perfect summer afternoons. Life was work, in Chicago. “How many new clients have you had to turn away?”
Jackie was silent a few seconds too long.
“Damn,” Beck muttered. “Baby Face was having the best year ever.”
“I know, kiddo. I do the books. No fears, though. You’ll recover if you get back soon. Things slow down in the summer so it’s not the worst time to be out of pocket.”
“How many clients?” she asked again.
Jackie sighed. “You don’t want to know. The ad in Chicago Today did, uh, really well.”
“Oh.” Beck grunted. “I totally forgot I booked that six months ago to boost our summer business. With a coupon, too.”
“Well, it boosted.”
“What did you tell potential new clients?”
“That our master baby photographer is away indefinitely on a family matter. And everyone understands, Beck. These are brand-new moms who’d kill for their babies, so they understand family issues.”
“They also pay a fortune for their photo and won’t wait until their li’l darling is three months older and looks different. Ours is a time-sensitive business.”
“Hey. Sunshine.”
“I’m sure t
hey’ll want toddler shots,” she added quickly. “And have siblings. And come back in the fall for that ‘baby in a pumpkin suit’ every mother has to have. We’ll be wall to wall with chubby little models and their families.”
“That’s my girl,” Jackie teased. “Speaking of family, any change in Mike?”
“He’s exactly like Ruff. Despondent with a capital D.”
“He needs his own vet.”
“Physical therapy,” Beck agreed, turning on her tablet to click through to the Kilcannon Veterinarian Hospital in town. “We can’t seem to get him to go. Oh, they have Sunday hours at the vet.”
“Take him in today. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I don’t know. Aidan could come back and claim I’m an unfit mother.”
“But you have the letter,” Jackie reminded her. “You have the law on your side, if we’re going to get, you know, custodial about it.”
“Neither one of us wants that. We only want to honor Charlie’s wishes. That’s our number one priority. But, yes, I do have the letter and he has…his story. Which isn’t strong enough to take Ruff from me.”
“Would he? I mean, is he that much of a jerk?”
“God, no. He’s…” She closed her eyes and pictured Aidan, with his too-long honey hair and blue eyes and tall, masculine build. “He’s…imagine Matthew McConaughey at thirty-two with bluer eyes. That’s what I’m dealing with.”
“Oh, that sucks. And I’m totally being sarcastic. Are there sparks?”
Beck snorted. “Only from the friction of a dog fight. Anyway, I’m done with him, now. No more Aidan.”
At the mention of Aidan’s name, Ruff lifted his head for the first time in hours, looking from one side to the other and pushing up.
“Oh God, Jackie. Ruff popped up the minute I said Aidan’s name.”
“Coincidence.”
Really? “Aidan,” she said again, louder this time.
Ruff turned, barked, and trotted to the door.
“Oh, Jackie. That’s what’s wrong with him. He needs to see Aidan.”
“Take him to the vet first,” she said. “Today. This morning. See what the vet says and then decide what to do.”
There was no arguing with that logic. Or the fact that Ruff showed the first sign of life at the mention of a name she hadn’t said in days. They finished talking while Beck made an appointment online with the vet, then she dressed and got both of them out the door in the next hour.
With Ruff on the leash and moving at a snail’s pace, Beck walked slowly down Ambrose Avenue, taking in the quiet Sunday morning in Bitter Bark. The town sure had changed in the last ten years, though she’d been back enough times to see the changes as they happened.
The many small retailers, cafés, and businesses were flourishing, many of them enjoying lovely facelifts or a complete change of name. Boutiques like La Parisienne had popped up, appealing to tourists, and almost all of them had the dog paw on the front door, welcoming four-legged furry friends like Ruff.
She cruised by Ricardo’s, the Italian restaurant in town and the only place that ever gave Uncle Mike a run for his money in the pizza department. The restaurant had been around as long as she could remember, but from the look of the brick exterior and shiny new sign, Ricardo Mancini was not suffering for business like Slice of Heaven was. He paid well, that much she knew from feeble attempts to hire help. Of course, it was a higher-end restaurant, but Slice appealed to the locals and college students at Vestal Valley. Or it used to.
She passed a few more buildings, then paused at a storefront to read the Coming Soon sign hanging on the door. Under that was yet another dog paw, this one accompanied with a logo that said, Bone Appetit—The Place to Paws for a Bite!
“What do you think of that, Ruff?” She tugged him closer and slowed her step to check out the list of doggie treats and supplies they’d be selling soon.
Ruff kept on pace, slowly making his way down the street until they turned on a road off the square, where Kilcannon Veterinarian Hospital sat in the shadow of the town hall. It also had a brick front and a picture window, with the lovely addition of a flower box and a welcoming red door.
Inside was just as cheery, with a large waiting room, where one lady sat flipping through a magazine, and a teenage girl sprawled in the middle of the floor talking into a cat carrier in a high-pitched voice.
The girl looked up, and hazel eyes widened at the sight of Ruff. Beck automatically gripped the leash, not knowing how the dog would act, if he would even respond at all.
“Ruff!” The girl popped up and threw out both arms. “It’s so good to see you again!”
Ruff barked, which sounded wonderful after days of silence, coming closer to the girl, who put her arms around his neck and looked up at Beck. “You must be his new owner.”
“Yes, I’m Beck. And you obviously know who Ruff is,” she said on a laugh, so relieved to see the dog react somewhat normally again.
“I’m Pru.” She grinned, showing braces with at least three different shades of neon bands. “Prudence Kilcannon, Aidan’s niece. Everyone calls me Pru.”
“Oh, hi, Pru. That’s how you know Ruff.”
“Yup.” She gave his head a good rubbing. “He was only at Waterford Farm for a day, but it was a Wednesday, so I got to play with him after dinner that night. He’s crazy, huh?”
Beck angled her head, considering how to answer. “He can be. I’m not sure he’s feeling so great right now, which is why I’m here.” She glanced at the empty reception desk. “Should I sign in?”
“Not on Sundays,” the girl said. “We’re on a skeleton staff, and my mom—that’s Dr. Molly—isn’t here.”
“Oh, really? I was able to make an appointment on the website, and I thought she’d be working.”
“It’s her normal Sunday, but she’s off on a special weekend with her fiancé. She got engaged last month, so my grandpa took the Sunday morning duty, which is why I’m here, keeping him company.” She added a sly smile. “Got me out of church.”
Beck took a seat, extremely happy that she’d get to see Dr. K. She’d called him after Ruff moved in to thank him for all he’d done, but had had to leave a message. “That’s awesome, too,” she said. “I wouldn’t have Ruff if not for your grandfather.”
“I know,” Pru said. “It was all we talked about at dinner on Wednesday night. Uncle Aidan was not happy about the prospect of giving him up.”
Beck gave her a look to say she was well aware of that.
Was that why Dr. Kilcannon hadn’t called her back? Was he on Aidan’s side about Ruff? “Then I’m glad to see your grandfather and talk to him about Ruff’s health.” Good to let him know she was on top of her dog-mothering game.
“Who wouldn’t be?” the woman reading the magazine chimed in as she turned a page. At Beck’s surprised look, she added, “As you say, he’s a great vet, and I should know since I have twelve cats.”
In elegant clothes and tasteful jewelry, more than she’d expect for a Sunday morning visit to the vet, the fifty-ish woman was the antithesis of a stereotypical crazy cat lady. “I’ve heard he’s terrific with dogs, too,” Beck said.
The woman smiled and brushed back a lock of long dark hair. “With everyone.”
After Ruff sniffed around for less than thirty seconds, he took to his belly again, his face flat, his eyes the only muscles moving on his body.
“Oh, you’re right,” Pru said, studying the dog with the same intent Beck might expect from the vet. “Something’s up with Ruff ‘N’ Ready. He was wild when he got to Waterford.”
Beck nodded. “I think he’s having trouble adjusting, and I’m not sure what your grandfather can do about that.”
“You’d be surprised,” she replied. “They don’t call him the Dogfather for nothing.”
“The Dogfather?”
Next to her, the woman who owned the cat in the carrier laughed. “Your mother told me he’s pulling strings like crazy now,” she said to Pr
u. “Two of my cats have to come in weekly for allergy shots,” she added as an explanation. “You get pretty friendly with the vets.”
Beck smiled and nodded, but the first comment intrigued her. “Pulling strings?”
“You know,” Pru said, holding up her hand as if she were working a marionette. “Like the Godfather in the movies who gets people to do what he wants. Only he’s a dog guy, so we call him the Dogfather. But he does get what he wants.”
“And what he wants are his kids happily married,” the cat lady said. “At least, that’s what Molly told me. And he’s four for six, right, Pru?”
The girl laughed easily, displaying her colorful braces and a natural warmth. “Yep. And my mom got engaged at one of my uncle’s weddings, which wouldn’t have happened without some intervention from Grandpa. It’s been wild at Waterford Farm.”
Something unfamiliar tugged at Beck’s heart. Regret, maybe, or plain old envy. What a place to live, where dogs were trained and rescued and Dad did some matchmaking.
“That leaves my uncle Aidan and my aunt Darcy.”
Aidan was in line for matchmaking? She wondered what kind of woman this Dogfather would choose for his warrior son. Someone strong, kind, and great-looking, like Aidan, she supposed. Someone lucky, then, too.
On the floor, Pru kept petting an unresponsive Ruff. “Uncle Aidan’s as miserable as you are,” she said, bending over the dog to whisper in his ear. Then she looked up. “But it’s okay,” she said quickly, as if she realized she might have stepped out of line. “He’s really your dog. We know that. Grandpa told us the whole story.”
She swallowed back some guilt. “I know,” she said. “I’m afraid Ruff and Aidan need to see each other.”
That wasn’t backing down or bargaining, was it?
“Nothing to be afraid of.” A man’s voice came from the doorway that led back to exam rooms, the space filled by a handsome older man wearing slacks and collared shirt, and a friendly smile.
“Dr. Kilcannon.” Beck stood, but still had to look up since he was easily over six feet. She extended her hand to shake his, but he bypassed that and offered a friendly hug.
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