Lost, Found, and Forever

by Victoria Schade

  “I’m out for a run.” Justine tried to keep her sweaty cheek away from the phone.

  “No way, that’s great!” Sienna cheered. “Where?”

  “Lockwood Overlook.” She knew the two words would shift the rest of the conversation.

  “Oh, wow. Wow, Justine! Good for you! Is everything . . . okay?”

  “Yup, all good. No biggie. Just a quick run. I’m heading back now.” She turned in the middle of the trail and began the descent. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m closing and the register software is acting glitchy. When’s the last time you rebooted?”

  She couldn’t remember when she’d done it. Yet another housekeeping task that had fallen off her radar.

  “It’s been a while. You can go ahead and reboot. That should fix it.”

  Spencer crashed through the underbrush and joined Justine on the trail, slowing himself down to match her pace.

  Sienna recited the reboot steps. “Okay . . . F10 . . . click ‘yes’ . . . hit escape . . . save all files . . . and done. I should be fine from this point on. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?” she asked.

  Justine wasn’t sure if Sienna was asking in case the register acted up again, or to be a support as she made her way back to civilization.

  “We’re fine,” Justine answered vaguely.

  And for the first time in a long time, she knew she was.

  chapter sixteen

  Justine hoisted her overstuffed silver suitcase up the stairs slowly while Spencer ran in place beside her. She’d packed in a hurry, filling a suitcase large enough for a week away with every combination of cute but comfortable clothing she could possibly need for their first day on set. Justine could tell Spencer wanted to bound up the stairs to his old front door like he used to, but she wanted to help him remember his manners, especially with so much riding on his ability to listen to her the next day.

  Griffin’s flight to Miami was scheduled to depart before she got into the city. As much as she would’ve liked to cross paths with him “accidentally,” there was no reason for her to take even more time off from Tricks & Biscuits to make it happen. Although she had managed to sneak away earlier than she actually needed to.

  By the time she reached Griffin’s floor she was panting with exertion, and a little sweaty under her black parka. She dropped Spencer’s leash, then tucked her hair behind her ears as she unlocked his door. Spencer strolled in like he owned the place, which he sort of did.

  She dropped her keys on the table by the door, where the red file lived, and a feeling of ease settled over her despite it. Even though Griffin’s apartment had as much personality as a high-end hotel room, there was something about it that felt familiar to her. The lights were on, and for a moment she thought it was Griffin’s tiny gesture of welcome. But then she heard the shower and saw steam rolling out from under the bathroom door.

  “Spencer!” she whispered, desperate to get out of the apartment before Griffin or whatever Airbnb-mix-up guest was currently using the shower saw her. “Come on, Spence, let’s go!”

  He stared at her, then juked toward the bathroom door in a single graceful leap. He was still recovering from the drive into the city, but the thought of seeing Griffin seemed to clear his woozy feelings away. He let out a bark and raked his paw down the bathroom door.

  The water turned off a few seconds later and Justine rushed to grab Spencer’s leash and pull him away from the door.

  Griffin came out of the bathroom soaking wet with a navy towel clutched around his waist.

  “Well, hello. Fancy meeting you here.” The weaponized smile plus the naked torso were almost more than Justine could take. She focused on Spencer so it wouldn’t look like she was staring even though she totally was.

  “My flight was delayed.” He headed for the stairs to the loft. “My clothes are upstairs.” He gestured to his naked torso. “Sorry.”

  Justine wasn’t.

  She’d already been briefly introduced to the abs, but the swimmer’s shoulders were new, as were the cuts at his waistline that dipped beneath the towel.

  Spencer saw Griffin going upstairs without so much as a hello and ripped the leash from Justine’s hand. He headed for Griffin like a tornado of paws, as if they were being reunited for the first time again. Justine hovered between being jealous about how Spencer was acting and being fascinated by Griffin’s damp body.

  “Hey, Spence, ouch! Watch it!”

  Griffin tried to withstand the barrage of kisses and leaps while clutching his towel.

  “Sorry, he knows better than to jump up,” she said but silently blamed Griffin for encouraging him to jump up the last time they saw each other. She knew she needed to grab Spencer’s leash in order to stop the assault, but she wasn’t sure what would happen if she got too close to a half-naked Griffin.

  “Dude, Leo, enough,” he said, using his free elbow and twisting his body to keep the dog from gleefully maiming his chest.

  Justine didn’t bother to correct the name.

  Spencer alternated between dashing in ecstatic circles and bouncing off Griffin like he was doing parkour. Justine was surprised by how well he was rallying after the drive, but then again, all the rules changed when Griffin was around.

  Frustrated that he wasn’t getting enough love back from Griffin, Spencer let out an accusatory bark and jumped almost high enough to kiss him on the mouth. Once he hit the ground he latched on to the towel, lowered himself, and gave it a powerful tug-of-war yank.

  “No!” Griffin and Justine shouted in unison.

  Spencer shook his head and made playful growling noises as Griffin attempted to back up the stairs without losing the towel. Justine ran forward a few steps, then stopped when she realized that Griffin was barely holding on to the towel in front of his groin and half of his right butt cheek was exposed. She couldn’t stop staring. It was the roundest ass she’d ever seen, and she reconsidered her initial guess that he was a swimmer because a butt that perky would definitely lead to water drag.

  “Can’t you call him away?” Griffin sounded like he was begging, doubled over and holding on to the towel with all his strength as Spencer yanked. “You said he was trained now.”

  The desperation in Griffin’s face made Justine want to burst out laughing. He looked so helpless, so panicked, so . . . hot.

  “Spence, out,” she said, stifling a giggle.

  Spencer immediately dropped the towel and Griffin scrambled to keep himself covered while he adjusted it. He flicked the end of the towel in the air as he looped it around his waist, but the woosh of the towel in the air was too much for Spencer to bear. The dog dropped into a play bow, latched on to what he considered to be the world’s best tug toy, and wrenched it completely off Griffin with a powerful head shake.

  “Nooo,” Griffin shouted, folding himself in half and covering his groin with his hands. Spencer shook his head and whipped the towel back and forth just a few steps beyond him, but Griffin seemed to realize that he’d need to move one of his hands away from his junk in order to grab it. He stood frozen, hunched over with one foot on the stair behind him, and seemed to weigh his options.

  “I’m, uh . . . I’m going to . . .” Griffin stammered as he started to back up the stairs slowly, trying to maintain his cool while completely, gloriously, unabashedly naked.

  “Spence, out,” Justine said, trying to keep from staring at the carved-marble perfection that was Griffin’s naked body. She’d never been a leg woman, but the muscular grooves along the sides of his thighs had her mesmerized. He had to be a runner.

  She knew that if she laughed Spencer would amp up his performance and start parading the towel around the apartment like he was a lion with a dead antelope in his jaws. Spencer looked at her for a moment, towel in his mouth, and seemed to contemplate his next step. Normally at home he’d have listened t
o her immediately. Spencer was so good at “drop” and “out” that he’d done it with chicken bones on the sidewalk and the slow squirrel he’d managed to snatch off a branch. But once again, the rules were different in Griffinville. Spencer was back in his old hood and up to his old tricks. Walk fast, play hard, and it seemed he’d added a new one: ignore Justine.

  “Spencer Aloysius Bartholomew Becker the First. Are you being serious right now? Out.”

  Justine never yelled at her dog, but on the rare occasions when he had trouble focusing on her she broke out his full name. It did the trick; he dropped the towel at the base of the stairs and trotted to her.

  “Nice one,” she whispered to him as she gave him a quick rubdown. “Keep him on his toes, okay?”

  Griffin carefully pivoted sideways, squatted lower, and grabbed the towel, then wrapped it around his waist. He marched upstairs without a word.

  Justine did a quick anatomy roundup of his back as he went up. Yup, there were the traps, delts, and lats, all present and all perfect.

  She tucked her suitcase next to the couch and pulled out her phone to get a quick store-status check from Sienna. She responded with a photo of the daily total so far, and Justine sighed and shoved the phone back in her pocket.

  Griffin barged down the stairs five minutes later as if nothing had happened, looking travel ready in a Black Watch plaid button-down. She was happy she’d worn her slim-fit jeans and fanciest Athleta hoodie.

  “So, your flight was delayed!” Justine said in an attempt to ignore the accidental nudity they’d just shared.

  “Yeah.” He ran his hand through his still-damp hair. “Sorry I’m still here. I didn’t think you were getting in until later.”

  “Please, it’s your place. Whatever!” She giggled and hated the sound of it.

  “I’m actually glad we’re here at the same time.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, there are a few quirks in this place, so I can show you them rather than making you read my anal-retentive guestbook. Follow me.” He beckoned her.

  “First, the light switches.” He pointed to the panel by the door. “None of these work. I always try to leave that little lamp over there on when I go out at night, because otherwise you’re walking into total darkness when you get back.”

  He pointed to the end table he’d pulled his red Spencer file from the first time they met. She wondered if it was still there or if he’d moved it to his safe-deposit box.

  “Got it. Little lamp.”

  “The TV is right there.” He pointed at what looked like an abstract print of black-and-white splotches on the brick wall opposite the couch, then picked up the remote. “This button controls everything.

  “Kitchen next,” he said, continuing the tour. “This entire building has waste disposals that we absolutely cannot use. I repeat, do not use this thing.” He pointed in the sink. “The super has promised to get the system fixed for months, but no luck yet. He sucks.” Griffin pointed at the switch. “It’s taped over, just in case you come home wasted and forget.”

  She smirked. “Not likely.”

  “Bathroom.” He pointed at the door. “Nothing too quirky in there, but the knob is weird. You have to turn it and lift up at the same time; otherwise it sticks.” He demonstrated the secret knob handshake.

  “Okay, got it.” She nodded.

  Griffin pointed to the stairs. “Loft next.”

  He followed Spencer up the metal stairs and she took the opportunity to stare at his ass. His Levi’s fit exceptionally well.

  “My bed.”

  She swallowed hard. Why did he make the two words sound like a command? Spencer seemed to agree and jumped on.

  “Weird,” he said as Spencer rolled around on top of his gray duvet. “I didn’t allow him in bed when he was with me.”

  “You didn’t? You missed out on some prime snuggling. This guy spoons like a pro. Was it a germ thing?”

  The corner of Griffin’s mouth kicked up and he paused. “No, it was because not all of my houseguests liked threesomes.”

  It was his first mention of other women, and Justine felt her face go hot.

  “I’ll have clean sheets on when you come,” he continued. “All I ask is that you strip the bed before you leave.”

  Strip. Bed. Again with the commands.

  “Of course.”

  “Last thing is the temperature control.” He pointed to the thermostat near his bed. “Stupidest place to put this thing up here, but whatever. Obviously with a high ceiling and this being a small space it’s hard to regulate the temperature for the whole place. I have it programmed, but if you need to override it you have to push the reset button twice.”

  Griffin kept talking and Justine zoned out. He obviously knew computers and technology and it struck her that he might have cameras hidden around the apartment. She’d seen the reports about Airbnb owners who secretly recorded their occupants. Was he a creeper? Or would he be using the footage to compile evidence against Justine for ownership of Spencer? She continued nodding along as Griffin gave her a lengthy programming lesson, peeking in the corners of the apartment to look for cameras whenever he turned back to the thermostat.

  “Got it?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course.” Justine nodded. “Very straightforward.”

  Spencer stopped rolling on the bed and let out a little whine.

  “He needs to go out,” Justine said.

  “His signal hasn’t changed.”

  For a second Griffin’s face looked sad, like he was remembering what life used to be like when Spencer was Leo, so Justine hustled him off the bed.

  “Let’s go for a walk, bud,” she said.

  Griffin looked at his watch. “I’ll come too; I have time. If you don’t mind.”

  “Sure.”

  She didn’t want to admit that she did mind. How many Leo fans were they going to run into during the walk around the neighborhood, and how many times would she have to explain that no, Leo/Spencer wasn’t back for good, and yes, she was an ogre for keeping him away from his birth father?

  “Wanna go?” Griffin asked Spencer in an excited voice. “Do you wanna go?”

  Spencer stood up and turned in three rapid circles, then paused in a play bow. It was a reaction she’d never seen, and yet another reminder that Spencer had lived a lifetime with Griffin before he ever found his way to her.

  chapter seventeen

  Justine zipped up her jacket against the early evening chill. Griffin had thrown on a light gray wool overcoat that instantly made his jeans and plaid shirt look dressy, and for a second she realized that the three of them looked like a happy family going for their evening walk.

  “He’s not pulling.” Griffin gestured to Spencer. “Back in the day we’d be at the end of the block by now.”

  “That was one of the first things we worked on, because he’s strong.”

  Griffin laughed. “He is. I considered walks with him part of my workout.”

  They headed down the sidewalk in silence for a few minutes and watched Spencer mark every pole and garbage can they passed. Justine peeked in the windows of the old brick buildings lining his street and tried to keep her envy in check that Griffin lived in such a cool neighborhood.

  “How long have you been in Brooklyn?”

  “I moved to Manhattan right after college, then made my way out here four years ago. Since I’m not tied to an office in the city I figured I could get more for my money here. What about you? How long have you been in Rexford?”

  “Four years.” She sighed.

  “Why do you sound like you’re talking about a prison sentence?” He bumped his shoulder into hers. “Rexford’s awesome. And based on my Instagram stalking, so is your shop. Most people dream of that kind of life.”

  He was right. Visitors came into Tricks & Biscuits all
the time and asked her advice about opening shops in their own hometowns.

  “Rexford is a magical place. I really like it there.”

  Griffin raised an eyebrow at her. “Sounds like you left a ‘but’ off of that sentence.”

  “But.” She nodded and continued. “I know I’m not going to stay there. It’s not my forever.”

  “So, you’ll close your shop and do what? And go where?”

  “I hate the thought of closing Tricks & Biscuits.” She groaned. “Can we not talk about it?” The lease was in her office, where she’d left it, still unsigned.

  “Okay, without talking about that part of it, what do you want to do next?”

  They were walking by a lit basketball court crowded with people of all ages playing. Spencer paused at the gate and watched.

  “That’s the problem,” she answered, staring at the players taking shots from the free-throw line. “I’m not sure. Definitely something with dogs, but I don’t know what. Hopefully, this Ted Sherman show will work out. Maybe I can try dog training full-time.” She shrugged.

  “You’re not really a planner, are you?” Griffin mused.

  She smiled at him. “It’s that obvious?”

  “It is, mainly because I’ve got my five-year trajectory mapped out and my ten-year trajectory in draft form, and I’ve been making them since I was in high school.”

  “Impressive. I wish I could do that, but it’s not in my DNA. My mom is a free spirit and I guess she rubbed off on me.”

  “I’d happily take ‘free spirit’ over ‘benign neglect,’ but that’s a story for another day,” Griffin said.

  “Yikes,” Justine answered, unsure how to acknowledge his candor.

  A woman walking a gray pit bull passed by and the dogs gave each other wags of greeting.

  “Can I ask what’s on your five-year plan? Maybe I’ll get inspired to do one.”

  Spencer found a small grassy patch under a tree and unloaded a pile. Griffin automatically tapped his hands to his jacket pockets for a bag and seemed to realize that he was off doody duty. Justine pulled one from her pocket and he took it from her hand.