by Aleah Barley
The dogs were barking now. A dozen of them, maybe more. Yellow, black, and spotted in a concrete alley. There were at least two litters of puppies. Peppy little balls of energy who would love her unconditionally no matter what she did. Bending down to wiggle a finger near the first litter’s cage, she bit back a laugh as four wild balls of fuzz climbed over each other to get near her.
A woman in a dark blue uniform was standing in the entrance to the furthest kennel. Shoulders hunched, a diminutive form shaking with repressed anger—or laughter—she didn’t notice the noise.
“Jemmie,” Nick called out above the barking.
The woman’s head swung around, her tousled brown hair bouncing in its messy ponytail. Her face free of any makeup she had the kind of brazen natural beauty that came from perfectly symmetrical features, full lips, and a smattering of dark freckles. Her face cracked into a friendly smile.
“Maddox, what the heck are you doing here? It’s a school day.”
“I’m sure the kids are studying hard. This is my friend Anna Howard.”
“Hello.” Anna’s head started to throb.
This was the kind of woman that Nick should be dating. A homespun girl who knew whether or not it was a school day. She even looked good in her polyester uniform, the navy pants hugging her hips and nipping in at the waist to display a perfect hourglass figure.
“I—” Anna’s hand went up reflexively to smooth her hair back, a nervous gesture that she’d worked hard to give up. Her fingers were clumsy, knocking her hat to the ground. Yellow hair tumbled down her back.
Air forced its way into gasping lungs. Silence.
Maybe—she hoped—maybe Nick wasn’t the only person in town who didn’t pay attention to the goings on in Hollywood. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep talking. “How do you two know each other?”
“Jemima’s a real good friend of mine. She’s Anne’s mother.” Nick explained quickly, “Not you—of course—Adam’s friend.”
“Adam’s best friend.” The woman agreed. Her eyes were wide, her hand stretched out. Hanging there in space. “You look just like—Do you know the singer—”
“I’m an old friend of Nick’s,” Anna said through bared teeth. She linked hands with the man in question, letting out a breathy little sigh. “Anna Howard.”
“Damn, it’s amazing. You look just like Anna Mon—” A bark from the kennel Jemima was standing in had her face turning red. “Leroy,” She swore under her breath. “I’m sorry, he’s a pain in the butt. You think you can give me a hand, Nick? I’ve been trying to take him for a walk for the last half hour, and all he’s done is sit there.”
Anna dropped Nick’s hand. If Jemima was jealous then, she was really good at hiding it. The singer moved forward to get a look at the animal. It never hurts to acknowledge a kindred spirit, even if the only thing that she knew they had in common was the fact that ‘Jemima’ made them want to dig in their heels.
Leroy wasn’t cute.
A mammoth pile of lumps covered in steel gray hair, it took her a moment to pick out a pair of big floppy ears and a moist black nose. With all the attention focused in his direction, the animal shifted slightly. A gentle guffaw escaped into the air, and he went to sleep.
“What is that?” Anna asked.
“Leroy,” Jemima swore. “He’s two hundred and ten pounds of Irish Wolfhound-St. Bernard mix. Because the best way to deal with an animal as tall as a wolfhound is to give it the bulk of a St. Bernard.” She stepped out of the entrance to the kennel to give Anna a better look.
The giant’s formidable size was more than a little terrifying. If he chose to attack, then nothing could stop him. He started to snore. The noise low and sonorous.
Anna took another step forward. Her fingers curled through the pen’s chain link, scratching the animal’s chin. His fur was surprisingly silky. Bushy gray eyebrows lifted to reveal pale blue eyes. “He’s not dangerous?”
“Leroy?” She let out a bright laugh. “He’s a sweetheart. Smart, mellow, completely housebroken. The only danger you’re in from him is getting licked to death, and that’s only if he can stay awake long enough to complete the job.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you have a big yard?”
“Jemmie,” Nick warned. “Drop it.”
“What?”
“Anna’s not interested in Leroy. I thought we might play with some of the puppies.”
“Puppies,” Jemima rolled her eyes. “Everyone wants puppies. They’ll be adopted out in a couple of days. Leroy’s been here for five months. Everyone thinks he’s too old.”
Poor Leroy. Anna’s nose wrinkled up slightly, “I know how he feels.”
“Older doesn’t necessarily mean finished,” Jemima said with a wry smile. “Leroy’s still got a couple of happy years left on him. In the right home.”
In Los Angeles, Anna had a large yard behind a six-foot privacy fence. It was the envy of all her friends, but she never made it beyond the swimming pool.
Papa Billy’s backyard wasn’t small either, although a dog Leroy’s size could do serious damage to the flower beds. On the plus side, that would leave less for her to weed.
The monster wasn’t energetic or cute, but now he was licking her fingers.
“Can I take him for a walk?” Anna asked.
“Sure. If you can get him to stand up then you can take him for a walk.”
Anna’s lips pursed, letting out a sharp whistle that had every other dog in the place rattling their cage. Leroy didn’t move an inch.
“Come on,” She urged. “Let’s go for a walk. Come on, Big Bad Leroy Brown.”
A loud bark. Leroy’s body bounded upwards, like it was on springs. His head shook wildly as he danced back and forth. Capering around the small kennel, he snatched a stuffed bear from the ground and tossed it into the air.
Leroy darted from the kennel to race eagerly around Anna. The long-legged dog came up to her waist, jumping up he braced a paw on either one of her shoulders and gave her a big, wet lick. Two hundred and ten pounds was a lot.
Just when she thought it was too much, his giant body returned to the ground. His butt hit the floor. His tail wagging eagerly, as he stared up at her with nothing but love in his eyes.
Nick grinned. “Do you have this effect on every man you meet?”
“Pretty much.”
“I’ve never seen him run anywhere except his food dish,” Jemima swore. “Not even when Adam and Anna tried to get him to follow them home last week. They were offering him an entire container of hotdogs, and he didn’t even stand up.” She grinned. “It’s got to be a sign. You two belong together.”
Uh huh, she could start a trend for big, fluffy mutts who slept twenty hours a day. Forget the occasional bodyguard that got foisted her way, no one would bother her if she walked down the street with Leroy by her side. She could run on the beach all she wanted.
“How do I go about adopting a dog?”
“First we take him for a walk.” Nick retrieved a leash from where they were hanging off the back of the door. “This is a big commitment,” He glared at Leroy, “A really big commitment. You need to be absolutely sure.”
A commitment, someone who she couldn’t ignore if she’d had a rough day, an animal who would depend on her for all of his needs. Her entire life she’d avoided responsibility.
Somehow, that life was becoming less and less appealing. Maybe she wouldn’t transition into a full block adult rock star. Maybe she’d just fade away like a thousand other child stars before her.
Her throat went dry. Her mind reeled. Maybe not. That didn’t mean she couldn’t make time in her life for a dog, even a dog who could eat her entire platinum record collection without skipping a beat.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter Fourteen
Saturday morning Nick and Adam headed next door to ask Anna if she wanted to grab breakfast with them in town, cinnamon rolls at Maggie’s Diner. The back door to the rickety old house flew open before they’
d made it halfway across the yards, and Leroy bounded out.
Big and sleepy, the wolfhound mix had a face that only a mother could love.
If Anna could commit to an animal like Leroy then maybe she could commit to Mill City… At least for a little while. Nick wasn’t thinking about forever—there was still Adam to consider—but she could stay for more than just a short ‘fling.’
They could go on a couple of weekend dates, maybe some afternoons sprawled on the grass cheering Adam on in the town’s four year old-to-eight year old soccer league. Nick could just imagine Anna cheering, sticking two fingers in her mouth to let loose a siren whistle. The sunlight glinting in her pale hair.
Leroy could come along too, as long as he didn’t attack the soccer ball.
The dog was turning back towards the house now, barking wildly.
“Leroy!” Adam shouted excitedly.
The boy had been excited to meet the wolfhound five months earlier. His excitement had been only slightly diminished when he was told that just because the dog was ‘wolfhound’ didn’t mean that Leroy was part wolf.
The six-year-old’s stride lengthened, and he raced forward to throw himself at the giant animal.
Leroy didn’t seem to notice.
“Hey, kid.”
Nick blinked in surprise at the sound of a stranger.
There was a tall man standing at the back door in a pair of well-worn jeans and a sweaty t-shirt. A grizzled beard covered half his face, and an oil-stained handkerchief was hanging off his leather tool belt.
“I’ll give you five dollars to lose that dog.”
“Five whole dollars?” Adam’s eyes were wide. “Sure.” He glanced up at his father. “Can I?”
“Who the hell are you?” Nick demanded, taking a few quick steps forward. The idea of strangers tromping around Anna’s house had the hair on the back of his neck standing upright. His lips pulled back into a grim line.
“What are you doing in Anna’s house?”
“You know Anna?” The man had to raise his voice to be heard over the noise coming from inside the house. Hammers banging, the sizzle and roar of an electric saw. His thigh muscles tensed, eager to lengthen his stride and send him shooting into the house.
“Grady.” He offered up a hand by way of introduction. “I’m part of the team redoing this heap.”
“The team?” Nick’s mouth fell open in disbelief.
“Not much of a team so far. Just me and a couple of guys. The interior designer’s going to do most of her work back in Los Angeles and the sound guy’s over at Springsteen’s place for the rest of the week.” Grady gave him an appraising once over. “We could use some extra hands if you need the work. Won’t be much fun—just hauling lumber and hammering nails—but the pay’s good.”
‘The pay’s good.’ The words were like a knife twisted in Nick’s chest, a reminder of just how little he knew about Anna. Four days earlier he’d looked at the woman climbing the gnarled holly tree and made a few quick assumptions.
In Mill City, success meant conservatively cut suits and donating a thousand dollars to the local schools. A fluffy little blonde in a fancy dress, Anna hadn’t met either of those qualifications. The only other person he’d ever known who dressed like that had been his ex-wife, a woman who would pay a hundred dollars for her haircut the day before the electric bill was due.
There’d been hints—Anna was just back from Europe, she owned her own house in Los Angeles—but there was a difference between comfortably well off and flying a team of men in from the other side of the country.
“I’ve already got a job.”
“Too bad. You look like you know your way around a hammer, and we could use another hand.” Grady turned and walked around the side of the house.
Nick’s teeth were grinding together. “Adam, come here.”
Under ordinary circumstances, he was more than happy to let the boy run around in the backyard. If he stayed near a window in the kitchen then, he could get some work done—washing dishes or editing briefs—while still keeping an eye on his son.
An army of contractors in the house next door did not constitute an ordinary circumstance by any stretch of the imagination.
Bending down, Nick scooped up his son and walked into the Howard house holding the door for Leroy as he went.
There was no sign of Anna in the kitchen, but the ‘team’ from Los Angeles had made themselves at home. There was a vat of fast-food coffee on the counter and plastic bags full of easy to prepare food. Well-used tools were scattered across the old pine floors. A wiry man wearing denim coveralls was sticking out from underneath the sink, fixing the kitchen faucet that had leaked for close to thirty years with a brutal efficiency.
Other men moved in and out of the kitchen without seeming to notice Nick, or the little boy who had taken refuge behind his knee.
Leroy’s passage earned more than a few dirty looks. One man even snarled. Apparently, the dog had been making friends and influencing people everywhere he went.
Nick held his son’s hand as he padded through the old craftsman with Leroy less than a step behind him, the large dog shying away from strangers swinging hammers.
Grady’s small team—just ‘a couple of guys’—had to be at least half a dozen men strong, each one possessed of a single-minded focus as they stripped the old house bare.
He finally found Anna on the front porch, perched primly on the edge of the porch swing, painted lavender to match the house. She was making out a list on a bright yellow notepad in big loopy handwriting. Her golden curls were slicked back in a high ponytail and her bee-stung lips were painted the same bright cherry color as her scarlet sundress with its sweetheart neckline that cupped her body and took his breath away even as it threatened to reveal firm breasts that he was beginning to think of as ‘for his eyes only.’
‘Bad to the Bone’ started playing on tiny speakers, and she glared down at the cell phone beside her on the swing. She didn’t answer it.
“Hey Anna,” Adam said.
Anna’s head shot up, blinking in surprise. “Adam,” She took a deep breath, “Nick. I didn’t know you guys were coming over.”
“I don’t imagine that you did,” Nick said.
“We’re taking you out to breakfast,” Adam announced cheerfully. “We’re going to Maggie’s.”
“Sounds like a fun plan.” Anna’s grin seemed forced. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the pen she was holding. “Sorry, I can’t go. I’m busy.” She flicked the end of her ponytail back over one shoulder. The motion made the swing rock slightly, and her smile faltered as she concentrated on balancing herself. “Nick, where did you get your towel rack?”
“The hardware store.”
The reality of what was going on finally hit Nick. His chest constricted slightly. Why the heck was she renovating the house? He took a deep breath. The place was run down, dirty. It was in bad shape, but that didn’t mean it needed a total overhaul.
William Howard had built the craftsman style house with his own hands over fifty years earlier, as a home for his beloved wife and brand new baby boy. Every piece of wood, each small detail, had been carefully selected as a symbol of his love for his family.
Nick’s fingers dug into his palms.
The front porch was empty except for Anna, notebook on her lap, cup of coffee resting on the nearby window ledge. Her scarlet dress skimmed her neatly turned ankles, the perfect tableau of a nineteen-fifties housewife completed by the creamy white ruffles peeking out from under the bottom of her skirt.
In the background, the hammering was getting louder. The scent of sawdust was sharp and distinct from inside the house.
“You’re tearing everything out?”
“I’m just fixing some things. The floors. The kitchen. The bathroom. ”
“You’re redoing the bathroom? Even the tub?” Damn, he had plans for that tub.
Had she ever taken a bath with someone? Feeling the sensuous motion of another human bein
g soaping up her long, lean limbs. Tasting a man’s lips as water rolled down her spine. Bracing her legs against the slick porcelain to keep from slipping as he entered her. Gasping. Moaning. A passionate finale as they both climaxed at the same time, water splashing across the room.
Nick’s fantasy was complete, fulfilling, but watching her sip her morning coffee—sleepy and sexy with a tinge of blush still coloring her creamy skin—he knew that reality would be even better.
Whatever was going on between them was more than just a fling.
“You have a bathtub?” Adam interrupted.
What was Nick thinking? This wasn’t the type of fantasy he should be having in the same room as his son. Hell, this wasn’t the type of fantasy he should be having in the same time zone as his son.
Adam was a cute kid, whip-smart and remarkably prescient for his age, but none of that changed the fact that he was six years old. The boy didn’t know anything about relationships between men and women, and he didn’t need to learn anytime soon.
Sweaty hands dipped down to Nick’s waist, attempting to adjust his jeans without drawing attention to the action. His mouth was so dry it was hard to speak, hard to breathe. He swallowed, hard.
“About that breakfast invitation,” he said, preparing to tell her not to worry, to lie through his teeth and say that it didn’t mean anything.
Anna cleared her throat. “I know it’s not Maggie’s, but I had the guys pick up some groceries. They ate most of it. There are still a couple of blueberry muffins. If you’d like to stay?”
“Blueberry muffins are okay,” Adam said. “How many are there? I might need more than one. I’m a growing boy.”
“Adam—” Nick had to bite back a laugh. His son had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. It would be annoying if it weren’t so damn cute. The way that Anna’s body was shaking silently, she was thinking the exact same thing.
The low growl of a powerful engine sounded down the quiet residential street. His back to the road, Nick didn’t pay it much attention.