Ruff Around the Edges

by Roxanne St Claire

He angled his head. “Am I asking you personal questions about Beck?”

  Which wasn’t an answer, but Aidan understood. “Well, I guess you don’t have to, based on the way I’m responding to this news.”

  Dad laughed. “Garrett’s right. You seem happy.” He picked up the DD93. “But you do need to do the right thing about this, whatever that may be.”

  He looked at the paper. It could give him Ruff, but lose him any chance with Beck. Was that a risk he was willing to take?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sarah sailed into the kitchen, her eyes brighter than the sun that streamed in the windows over the sink. “He lifted his arm!” she exclaimed. “He lifted it all by himself.”

  Beck lowered the dough she was working on to surprise Aidan before he got there, her jaw dropping. “That’s amazing, Aunt Sarah.”

  “The therapist is good, but Mike’s…motivated. Really, honey. Is this because of the work you and Aidan are doing? I could kiss you both.”

  Beck came around the counter and hugged her aunt, giving a kiss instead of taking it. “Truth? You might want to kiss Ruff.”

  She leaned back and started to curl her lip, but the look on Beck’s face must have stopped her. “You think the dog does that much for him?”

  “Ruff sure likes him more than he likes me, and Uncle Mike dotes on that creature.”

  Blowing out a breath, Sarah moved to put her purse in a cabinet and find an apron. “I should get him a dog.”

  “That would be the ultimate act of love on your part.”

  Her back to Beck, Sarah dropped her shoulders. “That’s a big commitment, honey. I’m not sure—”

  “Wait, I have an idea.” Beck came closer to turn her aunt around so she could gauge her response to this. “Let me take Ruff over there during the lunch hours. Then I’ll bring him back, but Uncle Mike can have Ruff from, say, ten to two. Every day. He has a dog for more than a visit, both of them are happy, and you don’t have to wallow in guilt for what you’re not ready to do.”

  She knew instantly from the warmth in Sarah’s green eyes that it was a good idea. “The therapist is there today,” she said. “And Carly’s coming to work for me so I can be home at the end and she can show me more exercises we can do every day, but…” She bit her lip. “Yes. I think that’s a great idea. Just not today.”

  “We’ll start tomorrow.” Beck gave her another happy squeeze. “And before you know it, Mike will be back and everything will be normal again. I’ll go home with Ruff, our mission accomplished.”

  “Oh, hello, Aidan.”

  At Sarah’s greeting, Beck turned to see him standing in the kitchen, taking in the whole exchange. His smile faltered a bit as he met her gaze, then he turned his attention to the pizza counter.

  “Look at you, Beck. Five doughballs, and you used the mixer.” He gave a laugh. “Guess pretty soon we’ll all have our missions accomplished. Whatever they might be.”

  She studied him for a minute, weighing this man against the one she’d said good morning to for the last few days. Something had changed. Was it her mentioning going home?

  “You’re going to be proud of me, young man.” Sarah sashayed closer to him, hands on her hips. “I’m letting Ruff stay with Mike during lunch rushes starting tomorrow. That’s progress, right?”

  He smiled at her. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was a smile. “That’s great. My dad thinks Ruff might have been a kind of therapy dog in another life, which really explains their connection.”

  “And Mike lifted his arm,” Sarah added.

  This time, his smile was genuine. “Excellent news. You’re right, Beck, your job may be finished here soon.”

  “Soon…ish,” she said, still trying to figure out what might be bothering him. Was he sick of the job? Restless again? Jealous of Ruff and Mike? Or…not happy she was leaving?

  For some reason she didn’t understand, that sent an absolutely unnatural thrill through her.

  “But in the meantime, we have work to do, Aidan Kilcannon.” She gestured to the counter. “You will not believe the treasure trove I found on the Internet last night. A chef in Rome who swears by sour cream. That’s something we’ve never tried.”

  He frowned with nothing but doubt. “Sour cream?” He shrugged. “I guess.”

  “I’m starting to think Aidan’s lost his enthusiasm,” Sarah said, possibly in tune with his change as well. “What you two need is a day out of the kitchen.”

  “Not until Sunday,” Beck said.

  “How about today?” Sarah asked. “Carly’s coming in, the pizza is essentially made, at least enough that I can handle this. Ricardo’s is having their personal pizza BOGO, which means we’ll be dead. Why don’t you two do me a huge favor and take a drive to our restaurant-supply store in Chestnut Creek? They have that lovely wooden peel you asked for, Aidan, and you can poke around and get back in the groove.”

  A rush of gratitude filled Beck, who loved the idea.

  “I’m in the groove,” Aidan said. “But I know the area. I used to go out to the Foothills Regional Airport with my dad for vet house calls when I was little, and when I got older, I’d go there to watch the private planes come in. I have a favorite spot in the hills off the highway that’s so close to the runway you can see inside the cockpits.”

  And there it was—the spark in his eyes. And all Beck wanted to see was more of it.

  “Can we go?” Beck asked.

  “If it’s not going to cost us lost business,” he said. “I’d love to, but I don’t want to leave you in the lurch, Sarah.”

  “We’re fine, and like I said, I’m celebrating the raised arm,” she said on a laugh. “And honestly, ask Beck. We really don’t get customers when Ricardo’s has a BOGO.”

  “Then we should change that and have a BOGO of our own, but…” He looked at Beck, his gaze direct and meaningful. “I think you and I could use some time alone. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Oh,” Aunt Sarah said with an embarrassing tease in her voice. “Maybe I’ll have more to celebrate soon.”

  Beck blinked at her, not sure how to respond, but Aidan gave an easy laugh. “You sound like half my family, Aunt Sarah. Matchmakers, all of them.”

  And Beck didn’t know which surprised her more—that his family was talking about them, or that he’d called her aunt Aunt Sarah.

  Or maybe it was how thrilled she was to spend the day ahead with him. Yeah, that might be the most surprising thing of all.

  * * *

  Aidan couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much. Maybe with Charlie, after they landed the same tour in Afghanistan. They’d actually celebrated. Hard. But that had been a different kind of fun from wandering around a sleepy North Carolina town that was, in many ways, a carbon copy of Bitter Bark. Not as many tourists and not nearly as many dogs, but the same brick buildings, the same hickory-lined residential streets, and the same feeling of comfort, ease, and home.

  Ruff was the source of most of the humor, barreling across a restaurant-supply warehouse like the proverbial bull in a china shop until Aidan took him outside and Beck picked up the Slice of Heaven order. Then he went powering through the heart of town, barking, jumping, trying to pee on every lamppost and bush. They took a quick break in a park off the main drag. Then, both of them starving as the afternoon wore on, they attempted a sandwich shop, but Chestnut Creek wasn’t as dog-friendly as Bitter Bark.

  After a battle with a rambunctious Ruff, Beck waited back in the park with him while Aidan got them something to eat.

  But it wasn’t only the dog who kept things lively, Aidan mused as he waited in line to order sandwiches. The party in a person was Beck, who had seized the day out of the kitchen and in the fresh air with as much gusto as Ruff had. Her laugh was infectious, her optimism endless, and her hand, when she slipped it into his and looked up at him to share something, was perfection.

  Carrying the bag, he headed out and found them halfway down the street
with Ruff sniffing around a small craft brewery.

  “Beer might help him,” Beck joked.

  “Not him, but it’s just the ticket for our picnic.”

  Her eyes widened, big, brown, and bright. “We’re having a picnic?”

  “On a pretty hill with endless space for Beasto and a perfect view of the runway.” He angled his head toward the brewery. “And two craft beers to go.”

  Forty-five minutes later, the picnic was exactly as he’d planned. Sunshine, rolling hills, homemade beer, an exhausted dog, and the prettiest girl he’d taken out in…ever.

  Beck lay on her back, staring up at a cloud, her dark hair spread over the blue-and-black checked blanket he’d found in the back of the Jeep. She held her beer on her stomach with one hand, and it rose and fell precariously with every breath.

  The only sounds were the occasional bird and Ruff’s relentless snoring once he collapsed behind them.

  Aidan tried to concentrate on the runway and skies around it, waiting for the next little joyride to come in, but his gaze slipped right back to the woman next to him. In nothing but the plainest white T-shirt, jeans with some holes in the knees, and Converse sneakers, she was certainly a dime.

  Thinking of Gramma Finnie saying that made him chuckle, and Beck opened one eye in his direction. “What’s funny?”

  “Oh, nothing. Something my grandmother said.”

  She rolled over on her side, propping her head up, totally unaware that the V of her shirt fell, revealing the soft flesh of her cleavage and forcing him to take a deep drink of a now lukewarm beer.

  “She’s so adorable,” Beck said. “All my grands are gone now, but my dad’s parents were near us when we lived in Allentown, and I loved going to their house.”

  “Why didn’t they adopt you and Charlie?”

  “My parents had left clear instructions that if anything should happen to them, we should go to my mother’s sister.”

  The only thing he really heard in that sentence was left clear instructions. Like Charlie. In his DD93. Which he’d conveniently forgotten about for the last few hours, but had intentionally planned to talk to her about out here.

  “And it was probably harder for Sarah than us,” she said, oblivious to the direction of his thoughts. “I mean, she and Mike had been married six or seven years, but they hadn’t planned on kids and still lived like newlyweds.” She smiled up at him. “Did you know you called her Aunt Sarah today?”

  He shook his head. “Because that’s what you call her.”

  “You two are making progress. And Ruff and Mike.”

  “Making it even harder when you take him to Chicago,” he said, hoping that would start the conversation, but realizing how it sounded as soon as he saw the look on her face.

  “You won’t quit, will you? Still trying to lure him away.”

  “Not lure.”

  “You’re luring.” She flipped around on her stomach to offer him yet another incredible angle of her body. “C’mere, Ruffer.” She reached her arms out to him. “Come to your sweet owner.”

  Ruff opened one eye, snorted, and went back to sleep.

  And damn if she didn’t roll around again, onto her back, the whole time gracefully holding that beer bottle out so a drop didn’t spill.

  “You think it’s funny that he hates me, don’t you?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m thinking,” he said. At all.

  She turned her head, let her hair fall over her face, and studied him. “What are you thinking? What did Gramma Finnie say? And what was it you wanted to tell me this morning?”

  Easy things first. “Gramma said you’re a dime.”

  She frowned, then choked a laugh as she realized what he’d said. “She’s hilarious. Tell her thank you. She’s a quarter.”

  “Damn near a dollar,” he joked. “And as for what I’m thinking…” He leaned over, giving in to the need to get closer. “I’m thinking that she’s right.”

  As they held each other’s gaze, he brushed that lock of hair off her cheek, letting his fingers graze her skin.

  “And what you wanted to tell me?”

  Just then, he heard the hum of propellers and turned to spy the small plane coming overhead. “It’s a Beechcraft Bonanza 36,” he said without even getting a good look at it.

  “How can you tell?”

  “Shape of the fuselage. That bright sound of the propeller. Hear that whine? Some good history in that bird.”

  “Sounds like a…” Her voice faded as it flew right overhead, making Ruff jump up and bark at it as it cruised toward the runway. “Plane,” she finished.

  He watched the pilot make a picture-perfect landing, feeling the grinding touch of wheels to concrete as clearly as if he sat in the cockpit. He let out a grunt, perfectly timed, and smiled. “Nice.”

  “Have you always loved planes?”

  “Always,” he said without hesitation. “Anything that could fly.”

  “Why didn’t you go into the Air Force?”

  “Because you can fly in the Army, and I liked the ROTC program at Wake Forest.”

  “And why helicopters and not planes?”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. I want to be up there defying gravity, making the machine soar.” He glanced down, unaware that she’d moved again, on her side now, head on hand. Her other hand lightly rested on his leg.

  “Then you should fly.”

  He drew back. “I just left that job a while back, remember?”

  “What can you fly besides a helicopter?” she asked.

  “What can’t I fly is a better question. I got a pilot’s license in college. No, I can’t land a 747, but anything that size?” He jutted his chin toward the taxiing Beechcraft. “That’s a breeze.”

  She sat up. “You should fly,” she said again.

  “I don’t want to fly commercial, Beck. It holds no appeal to me.”

  “But when you find your passion, you have to pursue it.”

  He let out a sigh. “Easier said than done when I have the weight of the Kilcannon family business and my father’s expectations on my shoulders.”

  “You’re a grown man,” she said. “No one has made you sign a contract to work at Waterford Farm. Go get a job flying planes. I bet there are hundreds of them.”

  He eyed her, considering the idea for a moment, and then remembered the look on his father’s face when he’d walked in the door that morning. “You make it sound simple.”

  “Passion is simple.”

  “Nothing is simple where my family is concerned,” he said. “It’s done right and well and for the good of mankind and all dogs.”

  She inched closer. “Is that a bad thing? I mean, you’re military. Doing the right thing and doing it well is ingrained in you.”

  “From childhood, not only the military.”

  “I know. I can tell by the way you make pizza. And don’t start me on how much you love dogs.”

  He plucked a blade of grass, trying to decide if he wanted to have this conversation or not. Mostly not, but he trusted her judgment. She was the closest thing to Charlie he had, the closest thing to a best friend right now.

  “No one seems to get this when I say it, but I don’t feel like I fit there. They look past me like I’m temporarily insane. But I miss it when I’m not there. I don’t want to be…suffocated by Kilcannons, you know? For the past few days, I’m as content as I can remember being since I left Afghanistan. In the kitchen of a pizza parlor.”

  “There’s a lot of Kilcannons,” she agreed, lightly rubbing her thumb over his hand resting on the blanket. “And they’re big personalities who love hard and strong. They all look at you like you hung the moon, too.”

  He gave a dry laugh, but let the idea rub into his conscious, like her light touch. “The luck of the Irish being last,” he said. “Liam’s king, of course, being the oldest male. But the youngest male carries a lot of expectations, too.”

  “But you are feeling content,” she reminded him.r />
  He turned his hand in hers. “Maybe I’m content because of the company I keep.”

  “I make you content?”

  “You make me…” Hungry. Weak. Achy. “Want to kiss you.”

  “Then you better do that, Aidan. While you’ve got the chance.”

  He closed the space between them easily, lightly placing his lips over hers and getting the bone-deep thrill of feeling that sweet bow under his mouth. Lifting his hand to slide his fingers under her hair, he angled her head to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth to taste her.

  Their tongues touched, making them both groan softly, adding mutual pressure and pleasure to the kiss. Threading the silky strands of her hair, he inched her back just as the whine of a plane screamed in the distance overhead, coming straight at the runway. As it got louder, he eased her all the way down and slid next to her.

  Breaking the kiss, he stayed on his side but turned her face to the sky as the plane flew over. He studied her profile, her lashes, her sweet skin, and delicate bones. Then he leaned close to whisper in her ear, “That’s a Cessna 175, single-engine four-seater. Sweet ride.”

  She smiled as the noise hit its maximum, then faded. “You didn’t even have to look.”

  “Didn’t want to. This view is prettier.”

  She turned to him, locked gazes, the only sounds Ruff’s soft snore and their heartbeats. “You still can’t have my dog,” she whispered. “We can kiss for hours, but you can’t have my dog.”

  Except there was a paper that said he could.

  But right now, with heat rolling through every vein in his body? “I’ll take the ‘kiss for hours’ option.”

  “Good call.” She rolled one more time, lying on her side, lining up their bodies for another long, wet, easy kiss.

  Aidan stuffed his problems into some mental compartment, added the issue of a piece of paper that sat on his father’s desk, and locked it all away. Right now, he wanted to explore the next kiss, touching her face, her neck and sliding his hands down to her waist.

  She sighed with pleasure, taking her own trip over his arms, shoulders, and neck. Blood coursed through him as he rose above her, feathering kisses on her throat and hearing a slapping sound and the pressure of—