New Leash on Life (The Dogfather Book 2)

by Roxanne St Claire

  “Just wanted to tell you I heard that things went Chloe’s way yesterday.”

  “Yeah.” He grinned and gestured to the ATV next to him. “We’re going to celebrate the Waterford way.”

  Dad nodded. “Good day for a ride. Although, I wouldn’t take her as the four-wheeling type.”

  Shane cocked his head. “She wasn’t the dog type, either.” And he liked helping her break her little barriers. He liked it a lot.

  Dad leaned against a workbench, crossing his arms, that expression of expectation he wore when he really wanted to talk about something. “Town’s buzzing already.”

  “I imagine it is.”

  “I got a call from Ned Chandler at the Banner a while ago. Has he reached you yet?”

  Shane shrugged. “I haven’t answered my phone and ignored voice mails and texts.” Except for the exchange with Chloe to set up today’s “surprise” celebration. And remind her to wear jeans and boots.

  “Well, he will. He was in his ‘I’m a hardened former New York Times reporter’ mode.”

  “Who is now the editor of the Bitter Bark Banner,” Shane noted. “How the mighty have fallen.”

  “He might say the same thing about you.”

  “Wait a second while I try to care.” He stopped, thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nope. Still don’t care.”

  Dad smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “He’s running an editorial a day, starting today and going until the popular vote in a week. He’s looking for every possible reason from the hundred-and-fifty-year-old incorporation bylaws to interviews with people from other towns who’ve lost tourism after a name change—”

  “He can find them?”

  “He says he can,” Dad replied. “My point is he’s going to get very nasty.”

  “What does he care what we call the town?” Shane asked. “He’s lived here two years.”

  “He’s a reporter with a bone and some actual news. A cause. He’s going to go after every angle, and I wanted to warn you.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “Unlike my younger brother Garrett, I’m not afraid of the media.”

  “But look how well that worked out for him.”

  Shane grinned. “I guess if I wanted to marry Ned Chandler, I could follow in Garrett’s footsteps.”

  Dad didn’t smile. “I’m trying to protect you, and Chloe. You have a personal relationship with the woman spearheading the project. That will come out.”

  “I’m pretty sure—speaking as a citizen, not an attorney, now—that there isn’t a law against two single people dating. Maybe he can scare one up in the bylaws from 1870 or whenever.”

  “He’ll make you look bad.”

  “For going out with a beautiful, intelligent, personable woman who has come to town with a brilliant idea to do the very thing we hired her to do? I fail to see how that makes me look anything but on top of my game. Unless Ned’s jealous.”

  Dad nodded slowly, obviously aware he’d lost whatever argument he’d come in here to make.

  “But it’s good to know,” Shane added, because he felt like he’d been fighting with Dad too much lately. “I’ll talk to him if he calls. I’ll wrap his ass in legalese.” He grinned and pulled out his phone. “Come to think of it, that sounds like fun. I think I’ll call him first.”

  But he was distracted by the text that had come in ten minutes ago. On my way.

  And how ridiculously happy that made him.

  “You do like her,” Dad mused.

  He looked up from the phone. “You read minds now?”

  “Expressions. Body language. And I know my children very, very well.”

  He conceded with a shrug. “Nothing to hide. I like her a lot.”

  “But she isn’t…permanent.”

  “I’m well aware she comes with an expiration date and lives in Miami.” He turned to put the gas can away.

  “Which is why she’s perfect for you.”

  He whipped around, that feeling of being tweaked by the Dogfather firing some fury up his spine. “She’s perfect for someone looking for perfection. I’m not.”

  “Then what are you looking for?”

  “I don’t know, Dad, but if I tell you, I’m afraid you’ll line up some candidates and shove me at them.”

  “Does that scare you?”

  “Not as much as conversations like this.” He put a hand on his father’s shoulder, not surprised to feel that it still had good muscle tone and size but very surprised at how angry Dad could make him when he was only trying to help. “I appreciate your concern, but you know how I feel.”

  Dad heaved a sigh. “Annie would know exactly what to say to you right now.”

  The words punched, and a lump he hadn’t felt for a long time grew in his throat. “But she’s not here, Dad,” he said on a harsh whisper. “She’s gone.” Damn that lump. It hurt now. And so did the look on Dad’s face. “And I don’t ever want to feel the way you do right now. Ever, you know?”

  Dad’s lips lifted in a slight smile, and his eyes welled enough to sucker-punch Shane with guilt.

  “It really is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” Dad said.

  Shane opened his mouth to make a crack about how unoriginal that was, then closed it. He knew better than to tease a dog he loved.

  “Thanks for that advice,” he managed.

  Dad got the message and started to back away, then stopped. “You know, spending your life alone is merely a different way of losing the game.”

  Shane stared at him, fighting the emotions bubbling up, clenching his jaw to keep from barking at this man who only meant well.

  Then Dad nodded. “You have a good time today. Should be nice and messy after that rain last night.”

  “Messy is what I’m going for.”

  “Love is messy.”

  He burst out laughing and gave his father a nudge. “You’ve officially lost your mind, Pops.”

  He wasn’t interested in love. But sex? Yeah. He was really interested in that. In fact, that was all he was interested in. That might disappoint his dad, but it was a fact.

  * * *

  Shane was as dirty as the day she’d met him. Might even have been wearing the same T-shirt that, even if it had gone through the laundry, needed to see the inside of a washer again. He wore soft, worn jeans, the ever-present ball cap, and a smile that did really stupid things to Chloe’s heart as he strode across the driveway to greet her.

  He held up his hands as he got closer. “You probably don’t want to touch me.”

  And that’s where he would be wrong. She didn’t want to do anything but touch him, and the neediness of that was starting to wear her down, steal her sleep, and make her think about giving up this fight.

  “I’ll take a chance.” She splayed her fingers on his chest for the sheer pleasure of enjoying the cut of his muscles, but was surprised by something else—the fast and furious beat of his heart.

  Because of her? Judging from the dirt, sweat, and way his chest heaved, he’d probably just run around that training pen with a dog.

  “Did you decide to leave Daisy?” he asked, checking out the backseat of her rental car.

  “Yes. It’s such a beautiful day, and she was so happy roaming the backyard. I left toys, food, water, and locked the gate. I knew if she was here, she’d be in the kennel, and she hates that.”

  He smiled. “She has you wrapped around her paw.”

  “She’s working really hard to do exactly that.”

  “I know exactly how she feels.” He closed his fingers over hers, leaning back to take a slow look up and down and up her, lingering on the gray T-shirt she wore and the dark jeans and boots. “Are these clothes you don’t care about?”

  “I don’t understand that concept,” she said. “I care about all my clothes.”

  “Can they get, uh, a little dirty?”

  “Yes.” She gave him a flirtatious smile. “You said you had something unclean in mind.”


  His grin was slow and a little evil. “Actually, it’s filthy.”

  Heat singed every nerve ending. “Dirty Shame.”

  Taking off the ball cap, he leaned over and kissed her, somehow managing not to let their bodies touch, no matter how much she wanted them to. “Perfect Chloe.” He kissed her again, then inched back. “Let’s go get…dirty.”

  She tried to breathe, but the air got caught in her lungs. “Okay, let me get my bag.”

  “You don’t need your bag.”

  Her bag had everything she needed in it. Phone. Wallet. Lipstick. Condoms. “Are you sure?”

  “One hundred percent. I have everything we need.”

  Trusting him, she took his hand. “So where to?”

  “It’s a bit of a walk, but worth it.”

  He led her around the far back of the facility, pointing out various training places, including a huge area of nothing but…trash.

  “The rubble pile,” he explained.

  “Lovely.”

  “It’s where Liam spends all his time in K-9 training, sniffing out bombs, drugs, and other evils hidden in garbage. Don’t you really like him even more now?”

  “Considering that he trains dogs that save lives and stop crime, yeah.” She leaned into him. “I think your brother is awesome.”

  He took the bait. “I train dogs that save lives. I don’t just train civilians and other trainers, you know. I work with the therapy dogs, too, you know. I sent a poodle out of here last week who went to live with a four-year-old who is blind and deaf.”

  “Aww.” She put her hand over her mouth to hold back the burst of emotion and affection simply imagining something like that. “That’s so awesome.”

  “Life changing,” he agreed. “My life. And I’ve trained dogs for kids with autism, for nursing-home visits, and even had a Husky here last year who can now sense when his owner’s blood-sugar level is low.”

  “That’s remarkable,” she said. “How do you do it?”

  “We have two incredible dog behaviorists on staff, and I’ve learned so much from them. I’ve taken classes, and a lot of it is my gut instinct.”

  She could hear the passion in his voice, and the joy. “It’s great when you love what you do for a living, isn’t it?”

  “You do, right?”

  “I do,” she said. “Wouldn’t mind a little less travel, but that’s the job.” He led her deeper into the trees, something making his eyes twinkle. “We’re, um, going into the woods?”

  “Do the woods scare you, Little Red Riding Hood?”

  “Maybe.” She laughed, keeping pace with him, but looking down. “Oh, there are mud puddles.” She took a huge side step to avoid one, cracking him up.

  “Ah, baby, it’s going to get much worse. Or better, depending on your perspective.” He guided her through the break in the trees and stopped, gesturing grandly. “Welcome to Mud Road.”

  Her mouth fell open as she looked down the five-foot cliff over a big pool of mud the color of a giant cup of overly creamed coffee. In the middle was one great big splattered yellow vehicle, propped on fat, meaty tires in six inches of brown muck. On it were two helmets, gloves, and jackets.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “You are looking at the elite-level ATV mud path that Kilcannon kids have been digging, fixing, and riding on for thirty years.”

  “On that thing?”

  He chuckled. “That’s an ATV. All-terrain vehicle. A 2-up, so there’s plenty of room for you to ride safely behind me. I’m going to take a wild guess that you have never been muddin’.”

  She gave a nervous laugh.

  “You’re starting on one of the best courses in North Carolina, if not the world. It goes a half a mile that way.” He pointed off to the distance, where there were more trees and fields and mud.

  So much mud.

  “We’ll hit the next property,” he continued, leaving no time or room for arguments. “But that’s the Goffersons, and they don’t care, so we ride through their woods, then worm through the creek and way up some hills to the lookout, where the views are in-freaking-credible, then some more woods, but it’s all trailed, I promise. Then down a killer incline, but you’ll be a pro by then, or I’ll take you down the chicken-shit route that Molly takes, then around there, and back here. Sound good?”

  “Sounds…I think I’ll take the chicken-shit route. On foot.”

  “Come on, Chloe.” He took her hand and tugged her into him. “Two miles of slippery, gooey, filthy, dirty…” He kissed her mouth. “Fun.”

  “This wasn’t what I expected,” she said slowly, eyeing the ATV and trying to imagine herself on it.

  “You thought maybe I had a romantic bed set up with champagne and satin sheets under the sunshine?”

  “Clean sheets.”

  He laughed. “I thought you liked to break those barriers. Muddin’ is definitely a barrier.”

  “A barrier too far,” she murmured, staring at the machine and mud a little longer.

  “It’s entirely up to you,” he said. “If you don’t want to go, we can take a nice walk along the path and—”

  “I want to go,” she said, surprised at the surge of feeling the admission gave her. No, not really surprised at that. It was more that he could do this to her, and for her. “I do,” she assured him.

  He gave a slow smile. “Oh, I hear the sound of barriers breaking, Chloe Somerset.” He took her hand and guided her down the cliff and, of course, she stumbled right into a huge hole that soaked her jeans in mud up to her knee.

  “There,” he said, helping her right herself. “Your mud virginity is gone. Let’s get you up on Old Yeller. All our ATVs are named after famous dogs.”

  “Of course they are.”

  He put the helmet over her head and helped her into a thin jacket that had to be more for staying dry than warm, since it was at least eighty in the sun. “Remember to try to keep your mouth closed,” he said. “’Cause, mud.”

  She closed her eyes. “Mud.”

  “And bugs,” he added with a grin.

  She let him hoist her up and settle into the little backrest, pressing her feet on the raised floorboards and sliding the leather gloves over her hands. With his helmet on, he climbed up and situated himself in front of her.

  Which was so not how she’d been fantasizing about getting him between her legs.

  He fired up the engine and yelled, “Hang on, honey!”

  And the next thing she knew, the world was flying by in a slow blur, a rainbow of blues and greens. And brown. Plenty of slippery, sticky, splattery mud.

  The front wheel dipped into a hole, and she squealed and automatically wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing tight.

  Then he gunned it, sending a rooster tail of muck all over her leg and arm, and then they took off with a wet, wicked rumble that she could feel right through her whole body.

  It was fast, filthy, and frightening. She could taste the dirt, feel every bump in her teeth, and her heart hammered so fast it could have broken a rib.

  And she’d never had so much fun in her entire life.

  With a whoosh of air and a splatter of mud, something changed. Something in her whole being felt free and utterly out of control, and all she could do was hang on and let the thrill zip through her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shane took them to the highest point on Waterford Farm, the place they called the lookout. He had, possibly a hundred times in his life, stopped here with Garrett, Liam, and Aidan after a hard six or seven rounds on Mud Road to chill and relive every minute of fun.

  In the spring and summer, they’d be covered with mud, as he and Chloe were now. Vibrating from the engine, tired, sweaty, sore, and exhilarated.

  He was all those things as he climbed off and unclipped his helmet, then helped her do the same thing. Her whole body was quivering, so he knew she felt all of that, and more. Well, the screams of delight, the whoops of fun, and the desperate clinging to his waist kind of gave
it away.

  “You liked it,” he said as he got her on the ground.

  She yanked off the helmet, still catching her breath, her dark hair spilling all over her shoulders as it came out of a loosely held ponytail. “I…did not like it.” She closed her eyes, and he made a face, not expecting her to—

  “I loved it.” She grabbed his head and pulled him in for a hot, demanding kiss, like putting an exclamation point on her elation.

  “Whoa, yeah.” He pulled off his gloves and tossed them, threading his hands into her hair to intensify the mouth-to-mouth. “I knew you would.”

  It was like she couldn’t contain all the new feelings, and that all translated into more kissing, her hands all over his chest, which was, she might not have noticed, drenched in mud.

  “Oooh. I like Dirty Chloe,” he murmured.

  She pulled him down to the ground, which required zero effort, and in a second, they were on a mix of grass and dirt, with him on the bottom and her on top, both of them frantic in the need to kiss and touch and finally give in to the electricity that had been arcing since the day they’d met.

  She fumbled with the zipper of his jacket, a little desperate to get to what was underneath. Laughing, he rolled them over and took the jacket off, then unzipped hers and helped her out of it. Half sitting, half lying, they both took a second to catch their breath and stare at each other.

  “How’s it feel to be this filthy?” he asked on a whisper.

  “It feels…liberating. Different. Normal.”

  “Does that mean you like it?”

  “I like…” She reached for his head to drag him down. “This.”

  He kissed her again, slower this time, taking a moment to taste her and smell the wind and dirt and air of home all over her. She moaned softly as he dragged his hand from her throat down, down, down over her body. She moved under him, arching her back in a silent invitation to touch more.

  “You taste like dirt,” she murmured into a kiss.

  “Good, huh?”

  “Delicious.” She delved her tongue into his mouth and touched his chest with the same appreciation he was using on her.