He grinned, preparing himself for her next attempt to get rid of him. He liked her fire. He wasn't a fan of the fact she didn't want to work with him, but in some weird way, it was refreshing. He made enough money and had enough power that most people wanted a piece of him or his business.
Paige wasn't buying into any of that, and that made him even more interested.
She raised her eyebrows, and didn't disappoint him. "You want to start now? You plan to dog train in that outfit? Your shoes might get a little scuffed."
Stifling a grin, Luke glanced at his clothes. "Damn. I forgot I was wearing my suit." He'd been so caught up in being with her that he'd completely forgotten he was still dressed in his city attire. Damn. She was distracting. He liked that. More than he wanted to.
Maybe she was right. Maybe a step back and a little distance would be a good thing. With a sigh, he held out his hand for Muffin's leash. "I guess you're right. Later, then?"
"Great." She looked so relieved that he decided to take a little bit of offense. He was sure he'd remembered to put on deodorant, and he'd even showered, so what the hell? Why was she so resistant to him?
Then she surprised him. "Let's go inside, and we'll schedule an appointment. And I need a check."
"Inside?" The entire cottage looked as big as his den back in Boston. And it sort of reminded him of the farmhouse he'd grown up in. Hell. He didn't want to go back toward the life he'd worked so hard to leave behind.
She must have sensed his hesitation, because she set her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. "Do you have a problem with indoor living?"
"No." He ground his jaw. "It's fine."
She folded her arms over her chest. "I'm sure it's not as big as your place, huh?"
The defensive tone in her voice caught his attention. He frowned. "I didn't mean to offend you. My hesitation has nothing to do with the size of your home." He paused. "Just the memories it evokes," he said quietly.
"Oh." Some of the bluster went out of her defensiveness.
For a moment, they just looked at each other. There was something in her expression that spoke of an empathy, of a solidarity about having a past that wasn't welcome. For a second, he was tempted to reach out, to trace his finger along her cheek, as if that could chase away the shadows in her eyes.
She leaned forward ever so slightly, as if she were feeling the same temptation. He caught his breath, and the tension between them increased. What if he kissed her? What if right there, right then, as an almost stranger, he just kissed her? What if—
Muffin barked suddenly, making them both jump.
She sucked in her breath and pulled back, whirling away from him and practically racing toward her front door.
Luke took a deep breath, and glanced down at Muffin, who was watching a squirrel hop around at the edge of the woods. "Really, boy? What kind of wingman are you?"
Muffin looked up at him and wagged his tail unapologetically.
Luke sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "What the hell does she have against me anyway?" He was well aware that she'd jumped to the most negative conclusion possible about him when he'd hesitated about going into her house.
He didn't like that she was so resistant to him, but he knew he should appreciate it, and take it as a sign that he should be moving on and looking forward….except he couldn't. "She's intriguing as hell, Muffin. Don't you think?"
Muffin wagged his tail again, staring up at him as if he were actually listening.
Luke frowned down at him. "There are occasional moments, albeit few and far between, when I get a faint sense of why people might like owning dogs. Like now."
Muffin barked and sat down, panting at him.
Luke narrowed his eyes. "You're actually a human in a fur coat, aren't you?" He was amazed at the intelligence in the dog's eyes. "When I think you're taunting me, you really are, aren't you? Just like you're listening to me right now, and debating about whether to tell me to go for it with Paige, or run like hell?"
Muffin's tail upended some leaves, as he wagged it from the sitting position.
"So, which is it? Run like hell, or break through that enormous freaking wall she's erected around herself?"
"Are you coming?" The woman in question interrupted their discussion, and Luke looked up to see her standing in the doorway, holding her screen door open. "We have a contract to sign, and you need to give me money, but I have to be somewhere in about ten minutes."
Luke looked down at Muffin. "I think 'yeah,' don't you?"
Muffin woofed.
Luke grinned and tightened his grip on the leash as he turned toward Paige. "Yeah, we're coming." He headed toward her, noting the lightning quick flash of relief cross her face before she turned away and disappeared inside.
He caught the door just before it slammed shut, and then stepped inside her home.
Chapter 4
As Luke walked in, Paige grabbed a sweatshirt off a chair and tugged it over her head, eliciting a surprising shot of disappointment in Luke at her curves being hidden.
Nah. That was good. Maybe he'd be able to concentrate better if he weren't having to focus so hard on not being a letch and letting his gaze wander where it shouldn't.
He had three things to do. First, secure her as a trainer to ensure he could get Muffin straightened out. Second, figure out why she was so damned resistant to him. Third, decide whether to go all-in winning her over, or stay true to the last couple decades of his life, and keep his relationship with her and this small town business-oriented and contained.
"Welcome to my mansion," Paige said, flipping her hand generally around the living room/family room that the front door had opened into.
It was the antithesis of his place in Boston, which was modern, sophisticated and mostly metal and white stone. Here, the dark wood and unfinished beams gave the cottage a woodsy feel, as if they were part of nature. The polished pine floor was complete with square nail heads and knots. A plush couch of a soft plaid called to him, begging him to dive amongst the pillows. Logs were laid in the fireplace, waiting only for the strike of a match.
Damned if he didn't like it. A lot.
"Here, you need to sign this." Paige shoved a typed document in his hand, apparently still harboring hostilities toward him…which made him even more curious.
He knew damn well he hadn't done anything worthy of pissing her off this much, which meant she had baggage. He knew about baggage, and carried it with him all the time.
"Luke?" She nudged his hand. "The contract?"
Her touch snapped him back to attention, and he looked down at his hand. "A contract for dog training?"
She pointed to the kitchen. "You can sit at the table in there to go over it and sign it."
Luke scanned the document as he walked toward the kitchen, frowning. It was tight, succinct, and written as well as any legal document that would come out of his firm. He would not have expected a rural dog trainer to throw around iron-clad contracts as if they were paper towels, and he wouldn't have expected it to be so well-written. Clearly, there was at least one extremely well-trained lawyer in this town…and he needed to find out who it was. "Who drafted this?"
"Is there a problem with it?" Paige pulled out a wooden chair with a loon print cushion on the seat. "Sit."
"Not at all. It's extremely well-written."
"Oh." Paige looked pleased, flashing him a genuine smile that made him temporarily forget anything but her.
"Damn, your smile could light up the world."
The moment he said it, her smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. "Why did you want to know who wrote it?"
Damn. Again with the cold wall between them. But now that he'd seen the smile, he wanted more of it. No, he didn't just want it. He craved it. "I want to interview the attorney who wrote it."
Paige sat opposite him, an inscrutable expression on her face. "Why?"
Luke laid the contract on the table and faced her. "I'm in New Hampshire for a year to open a branch
office of our Boston firm. We want to staff the office entirely with local attorneys, who have contacts in the community. Whoever wrote this contract is a great place to start."
She cocked her head, studying him. "I knew you didn't fit as a local, with your fancy car and clothes. A temporary resident makes much more sense."
She didn't think he fit in. Good. He'd worked hard not to fit into this world anymore. But weirdly, the thought of it didn't feel as satisfying as he'd thought it would. He frowned. "So, who's the attorney?"
Paige tapped her fingers on the table, studying him. "Do you like your job?"
He leaned back in his seat, curious about her question. He had a feeling it wasn't casual small talk. "Yeah, I do, and yes, I noticed that you're not answering my question about who the attorney is."
She leaned forward. "What about all those long hours? All the pressure to bill? To get clients? All the arrogant old-school lawyers who treat people like pond scum?"
He shrugged. "The long hours don't bother me, and most of the people are good folk. Maybe a few who can be tricky, but it's a good place."
"Tricky? That's what you call them?"
He watched her more closely, noting that her shoulders were tensing, and she was shifting restlessly in her chair. "It's all in how you handle them. If you let them bother you, then they will. Otherwise, you just learn how to play the game, and it's easy."
"Easy?"
He shrugged. "Easy enough."
"You honestly seem like none of it bothers you." She leaned closer. "You seem nice," she said softly. "How are you able to work in that firm and be nice?"
He shrugged. "I can be tough when I need to. It's not a big deal for me."
She didn't let up. "But it would be for some people, right? Some people might not be able to handle the pressure?"
He noticed that her cheeks were becoming more flushed, and there was an edge to her voice. Suddenly, he knew that she had a past, one that somehow related to his world. So, it wasn't about him. It was about her, and somehow, he reflected that back to her, just as how she reflected his past back to him. "Most associates leave after a few years," he agreed. "That's how it goes."
"That's how it goes?" She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest. "So, that's just fine if these firms create a work environment that causes stress? It's just a flaw with the people who can't handle it? Is that what you mean?"
"No." Something shifted inside him, something that hurt for the shadows in her eyes. "That's not what I meant—"
"Have you ever snapped from the pressure?"
He frowned. "No, I—"
"Has anyone? Does that ever happen? Ever hear about those things?" She leaned forward, her voice strained. "You must hear things, being in that building. There are so many firms around there, and it's a tight community."
She was so tense that he wanted to reach across the table and hug her. Something had happened to her, something that had rocked her to her core. He didn't know what it was, but he wanted to fix it, to chase that past away from her. "I vaguely recall hearing something like that a few years ago, but that's it. People don't flip out. If they don't like it, they leave. Not a big deal." He leaned forward. "It's okay," he said gently. "People who leave are okay."
She didn't seem to notice his attempt to reassure her. "You heard something... What did you hear? What happened? You said one time…"
He frowned. "I don't remember. It was at another firm."
"Was it a man or a woman?"
"I don't know. I really don't keep track of those kinds of things. I'm sure it wasn't a big deal." He cocked his head. "Why? Do you know someone who worked for a firm? You seem to know a lot about it."
Her eyes became huge, and she stared at him for a fraction of a second too long. "I had a friend who did," she said finally. "A good friend. Law wasn't good to her."
Ah…so that was it…or part of her issues. Her tension seemed a little more personal than simply being a story from a friend, but clearly, she had some very bad associations with the world he'd worked so hard to become a part of.
He smiled and leaned forward, wanting to reach for her hand, but not daring. "Hey, Paige. I'm not a bad guy. I swear it. Most attorneys are decent human beings. Whatever happened to your friend wasn't common, and it wasn't something that I did." He wasn't sure why it was so important to him to break through her fear of him, but it was.
He needed her to be okay with him, almost as much as he needed to ease the tension in her face, and chase away her fear. And he had a feeling it was for more reasons than simply getting her to agree to train his dog.
She took a deep breath. "Okay." She managed a smile, but this time it didn't go to her eyes. "Want some lemonade? I made it this morning." Clearly engaging in evasive techniques, she pushed away from the table and grabbed a jug of lemonade from the fridge. "Want some?" She was already setting a glass in front of him when she asked the question.
"Sure." He watched her pour the sparkling liquid. Her hand was shaking so badly that he finally reached out and set his hand on hers. "What can I do to help you?"
She paused and stared at him, her eyes wide. "Just stop being so freaking appealing. I don't need that from you."
His eyebrows shot up, and he couldn't keep the grin off his face. "You think I'm appealing?"
"Yes, and it's incredibly annoying." His glass filled, she set the pitcher on the table and sat back down. "So are you going to sign the contract or what?"
"I haven't finished reading it yet." He'd been so interested in his conversation with Paige that he'd forgotten about the contract. Had that been her intention? To make him forget to ask who'd written it?
Paige was smart as hell, he was realizing, and she wasn't someone who was going to allow anyone to manipulate her. He was impressed, and intrigued. The woman became more interesting with each passing moment.
She gave him an impatient look that made him grin. "Then read it. Sign it. Give me money."
"Yes, ma'am." Luke flipped through the contract. "How much do you make anyway?"
"Depends on you."
He whistled softly when he finally located the cost. "You make two thousand bucks for training one manipulative dog?"
Paige raised her eyebrows at him. "Muffin is not manipulative. He's a dog. And if you read more carefully, you'll see that you get up to fifteen hundred dollars back."
Luke grinned and shook his head as he kept reading. "I inherit one dog," he muttered, good naturedly, just because he kinda wanted to see what Paige would say, "and he's already costing me two grand. My sister owes me a really nicely written thank you note, I think."
She didn't disappoint. "He's a warm, loving companion who won't ever hurt your feelings, and his training costs less than your suit. How can you complain about it?"
He cocked his head, riveted by her passion for animals. "I've never had a dog before, and I don't consider myself a dog guy, but your passion is intoxicating."
She got a pleased look on her face for a split second, before folding her arms over her chest, as if she'd suddenly remembered she wanted to keep him at a distance. "Dogs are amazing."
"You almost make me wish I could see them the way you do." And he meant it. He'd grown up on a farm, where animals meant work, chores, and money. He'd never thought of an animal as a pet before. They'd had barn cats, cows, chickens, and assorted other farm animals, but never a dog.
Her smile got bigger. "If there's a chance of making you appreciate the dog you are now responsible for, then that is a beautiful thing."
Damn. Her smile was literally radiant. He could get lost in it forever.
She leaned across the table and pointed to a clause. He got a taste of her scent, and he realized that she smelled like fresh water, outdoors, and flowers, all of it natural and real. None of it came from a bottle, and he liked it that way…to his surprise.
When he'd first left the farm, he'd wanted to leave all that natural shit far behind…and he had…until now…
She tapped the paper. "See, here? For the bargain price of five hundred dollars, you get a devoted companion who will love you unconditionally. You don't need to buy him fancy jewelry or lie about how he looks. Better deal than your girlfriend, huh?"
"I don't have a girlfriend."
Her gaze shot to his, and for a moment, tension skyrocketed between them. Had she dropped that to fish for information, or had he just been looking for a chance to fit it in?
"Mmm," she said, eyeing him. "Probably because you're a lawyer. Most women see through that eventually."
He grinned at the twinkle in her eyes. No one had teased him since Daisy… He frowned. He hadn't thought about any of Daisy's attributes for a long time. He'd just been pissed off and bitter. "Yeah, the only dates I get are when I tell the women that I'm actually a hit man for the mafia. They like that better. Feel it's better job security, and isn't burdened with all the ethical issues that accompany being a lawyer."
"I can see that." She was keeping a straight face, but there was a definite twinkle in her eye. "So, are we good?"
"Yeah, we're good." He leaned forward. "You want to go to dinner?"
The moment he asked the question, he froze. Shit. He hadn't meant to say that aloud…then he saw the startled look on her face, and he was damn glad he had.
Chapter 5
"Dinner?" Paige sucked in her breath.
"Yeah." He leaned forward. "Go to dinner with me, Paige. My treat." God, it felt right to ask her out. The idea of taking her out for dinner, of having her all to himself…
"That's not what I meant when I asked if we were good!"
Belatedly, he began to realize that the expression on her face wasn't shocked delight. It was shocked horror. "It wasn't?"
She flapped the papers at him. "I meant the contract. That you get fifteen hundred dollars back if you and Muffin pass my program. That's what I was talking about!"
Oh, shit. He'd totally misread the situation. "Oh, right, the contract. Yeah, okay, I'm with you." He glanced at the paper, quickly scanning it as he tried to backpedal. "Wait a sec. I get my fifteen hundred dollars back if the dog passes all ten obedience tests along the way?"
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