A is for Alpha

by Kate Aster

“But you went for it. You went for your dream. You don’t regret it, do you?”

  “Every day of my life.”

  Okay, not the answer I was expecting. “But you’d regret it more if you hadn’t tried. You’d be working somewhere wondering ‘what if?’”

  “Maybe. But at least I wouldn’t have to slap on a smile for another slobbery, germ-ridden kid who’s been in line an hour in the heat to get a photo op with me.” She pauses. “Oh, speaking of, they changed my schedule on me again, and I won’t be able to bring Moppet to the adoption event on Saturday.”

  I nod, expecting this. Now that Buckeye Land is starting their summer schedule, I doubt I’ll be getting much help from Cass. “No problem. I can pick her up in the morning and bring her back if you give me your key. Or I’ll ask Kim. She’s running a party for me tonight, anyway.”

  Kim only does a couple parties a year for me. Her parents frown at the notion of their daughter selling sex toys, her mother referring to them as “those Devil tools,” which is why Kim needs to store her samples in my closet.

  “Great.” Cass picks up the camera. “And you know what? Don’t listen to me. You go for your dream. My couch is there for you if you need it.”

  Chapter 6

  - LOGAN -

  “Oooh, pretty.” My niece is toying with the overlay of the wedding invitation I received from Annapolis. It’s laser cut paper that looks like elegant lace, fastened by a blush pink bow that only my niece can fully appreciate.

  I’m more of an e-invitation kind of guy.

  “Is this from a princess?” she asks. At her age, everything is princesses and fairy tales and happy endings. I hope she enjoys this stage while it lasts. Because, damn it all, it won’t.

  I open the bow for her. “No. It’s just a wedding invitation,” I say bringing disappointment to her eyes. It’s for Bess’s wedding, someone I only ran into a few times while I was in Annapolis, but my friend Maeve is the Maid of Honor. I’d bet my next paycheck—if I had one—that Maeve hand-picked the invitations herself.

  “When I get married, I want to have invitations like these.”

  “Then you’ll have them, honey,” I tell her confidently. There’s nothing too good for my brother’s only child. He’ll have white doves deliver the invitations if she wants it.

  “Are you going?”

  I wince at the thought. I hate weddings, especially going stag. But I feel a pinch of guilt for the regrets that I’m destined to send back as a reply. Maeve warned me the invitation was coming. Bess doesn’t exactly have a huge family and Maeve’s trying to bulk up the bride’s side of the aisle.

  Since my family’s pretty big, three brothers and seven cousins, and about twenty SEAL brothers, I shouldn’t even be able to relate to Bess’s predicament. But the idea of not having them, any of them, is like a punch in the gut.

  Besides, she’s marrying an Army guy. A Ranger. She’s going to need all the support she can get. “I might,” I finally reply with a sigh as Hannah sits back down to our game of Battleship. Playing a board game is always a daylong event with Hannah, as she flits about the room in between moves, distracted by whatever happens to land within her line of sight.

  I can imagine the struggle the poor kid is having in school and it breaks my heart.

  “E4.” My niece stares at me, her eyes steely and determined. She looks almost menacing from her expression, despite the pigtails popping out from the sides of her head.

  I glance down at my tiny plastic ships on my board, and frown. “Hit. Submarine.”

  Her face lights up, like it always does. To see her smile like that, I’d gladly throw any game of Battleship. Fact is, though, I’m not throwing the game at all. She’s whipping my ass like she always does. She’s got an instinct for games that is unreal, and as soon as she is old enough, I’m taking her to Vegas.

  I press my little red peg into my partially sunken sub when I hear the doorbell ring.

  “He’s here!” She jumps up from the table and races to the door.

  I dart behind her and stop her from swinging it open. “Now remember, this dog is new to you, so let him approach you, okay? And if he doesn’t seem into you, don’t push it.” Sounds like I’m giving her dating advice about ten years too early, but I’m not. I’m seriously worried about how this might go. My niece is my everything. She has a pretty hard time making friends at school, and the last thing I want to do is bring a dog into her world that might reject her. Or worse, bite her.

  “I know, Uncle Logan. I know.” Hannah’s eyes roll, exasperated.

  I open the door and Kosmo immediately strides toward her, sniffing. I watch them like a hawk, looking for any sign of displeasure from either of them. I know Allie is there, too, on the other end of the leash, but I can’t even glance her way right now. Kosmo is almost face-high to Hannah, and I see just how vulnerable small children can be to big dogs. My heart is in my throat.

  “Hi, Kosmo,” Hannah says, reaching out to pet him. He licks her arm and she giggles. He immediately drops down to the ground and rolls on his back for a belly rub.

  “That’s a good sign.”

  Only now do I glance up at Allie, who isn’t even looking at me. She’s watching the two of them, too, and I’m grateful for it. She’s dressed up again, like she was that night I met her.

  “Hi, Allie,” I reach out my hand awkwardly to shake hers. Considering the first night we met, I’m not really sure how to greet this woman. “This is my niece, Hannah.”

  Allie holds her hand out to Hannah and my niece takes it in her wrong hand and gives it an enthusiastic shake.

  Hannah returns to rubbing Kosmo’s belly and he is basking in the attention. “Oh, you’re a nice doggie. Can he come off the leash?”

  “Sure.” Allie shuts the door behind her and detaches Kosmo’s leash.

  I sit on the ground with my niece, confident now this is a good match for all of us. “How are you doing, bud?” I scratch his belly lightly and his back legs quiver, telling me I found a sweet spot.

  “Um, I have some paperwork and a few of his toys in the car.” Allie tosses her head in the direction of the door.

  “Want me to get them?”

  “No, that’s okay.”

  Allie slips out, and my eyes can’t help following her. She’s in a torso-hugging peach t-shirt and a short skirt that is made of some kind of jersey material. She looks like she’s headed to a picnic. Her brown hair is swooped up into a high ponytail, revealing a dark mole at the base of her neck. And for the life of me, I have the distinct urge to kiss it.

  I give myself a shake as the door shuts behind her and look at my niece, who is still petting Kosmo. “So, do you like him?”

  “I love him,” she says, dipping her head low to the ground and embracing him while he lies prone on his back. If there were ever a position that a dog might growl at a child, this would be it, essentially trapped against the ground. But Kosmo is savoring the attention.

  “Just keep your face away from his, hon,” I remind her. I can’t help being a little cautious. Since I was always out rescuing strays as a kid, I was bit by my fair share. It’s not something I want to happen to Hannah. But the more I’m seeing them together, the less I worry. And I worry plenty about this little girl.

  When Allie comes in, we move to the kitchen table so that I can sign some paperwork and write her a check for the adoption fee. When she glances upward at me as I hand her the check, I swear I think I see a few unshed tears in her eyes.

  “Thanks,” she says. “I know he’s found a really good home here.” She glances toward the couch which Kosmo has already decided is his. My niece is still petting him, and fur is flying everywhere.

  Pressing her lips together as she watches the two of them, she gives a nod as though to reassure herself.

  “How long have you had Kosmo?” I find myself asking. I hadn’t really considered her feelings in all of this. How hard would that be, to rescue a dog from the shelter and then have to hand him over to so
meone else for the rest of his life?

  “Six months. A little longer than most my dogs because he was a lot harder to rehome.”

  “Well, I’ll take good care of him.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Her face frowns, and she bites her bottom lip. “And will you let me know how his surgery goes?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks. And if there’s anything he needs. Really—even if you need a dog sitter while he’s recovering, because you probably will want someone around then.”

  “I’ll clear my schedule so I can be with him when he needs me. My hours are pretty much my own. But I will definitely call you if I need anything,” I add simply because I think she needs to hear it.

  She nods as she reaches for the signed paperwork. For some reason, I don’t want her to leave. I want to find out more about her and this passion for rescuing dogs she has. “We were going to order Chinese tonight. Hannah loves egg rolls. You can join us, if you’d like.”

  “Oh, no. That’s okay. Thanks, though.”

  “Really, it would be great. That way Kosmo doesn’t feel abandoned, you know?”

  Biting her lip, she seems to hesitate, her eyes transfixed on Hannah and Kosmo snuggling on the couch like the two had been raised together. Her eyes then dart to me and I feel this strange shooting sensation in my heart when her gaze locks on mine. There’s something about her, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Like she reminds me of someone I knew in another life, if I believed that sort of bullshit.

  But for the record, I don’t.

  I decide to push. “So, what do you like? Are you more a General Tso’s chicken or shrimp fried rice kind of girl?”

  A smile touches her lips. “General Tso’s chicken. Extra spicy.”

  I’m wondering if there was any flirtation in what she just said. I’m really hoping there is. Because even though Hannah is here tonight, I’ve got plenty of other nights this week when I wasn’t planning on sharing company with anyone but my new dog. And as I look at Allie, I can’t help remembering how she tasted.

  “You got it.” I pull up the menu on my laptop and order enough food for a feast. Hannah likes taking a couple bites out of everything, and I think it’s good that she wants to sample all that life has to offer, so I don’t make her hold herself back when she orders eight different entrées. Trouble is, I always end up with about a week’s worth of meals for leftovers.

  While we wait for the food to be delivered, we move to the backyard, where Kosmo is involved in a slow game of fetch with Hannah. He runs out of energy quicker than most dogs, but I was expecting that. And Hannah seems pretty content petting him for five minutes in between each throw.

  “Your niece is precious, Logan.”

  “She is. Can’t say I had anything to do with it, but yes, she is.”

  “Does she visit you often?”

  “Whenever I can convince her dad to let her come over. Ryan’s divorced, and only gets her on the weekends. So he has a pretty rough time parting with her. But we all get together at my parents’ house a couple Sundays a month for dinner. Kosmo will love it there. Lots of table scraps.” I glance at Allie briefly as we sit on the back step of the porch. “So what got you into the dog rescue business?”

  “My dad—” she begins, then hesitates, seeming to change direction. “When I graduated from college last year, I went to the pound to get a dog and found out it was a high-kill shelter just because there weren’t enough people adopting dogs. So I decided to foster, rather than adopt. I got a few other people to do it with me, and the rest is history, I guess.”

  She sends me a meek smile, and I’m trying to register what she just said. Something about fostering and a high-kill shelter. But my head is still reeling from the words, “When I graduated from college last year…”

  “You just graduated last year?” I can’t help myself.

  She nods.

  Shit. “So you’re 23?”

  “24, actually. I skipped a semester when—”

  Again, she cuts herself off. I think I’ve never met a woman who liked talking about herself less.

  “—I needed a break,” she finishes evasively.

  Holy crap. “You look…” I catch myself before saying it, thank God, because no woman wants to be told she looks a lot older.

  “Older,” she finishes for me. She nods. “Yeah, I know. I get that a lot.”

  I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I nearly picked up a kid practically fresh out of college in a bar. Seriously, after my last catastrophe, that’s not my style. 24 is way too young for a cynical former Navy SEAL with more baggage than a 757 bound for Miami during Spring Break.

  “So…” I pull my eyes from hers, keeping my hormones in check. 24, I remind myself. I go for women closer to my age. The kind with issues. That way I won’t look like such a hot mess by comparison. “Your sales job must not make you travel much, then.”

  She stares at me, looking slightly baffled.

  “Sales. You had told me you were in sales.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s actually why I love my job. I never have to drive further than an hour or so. And I get to be home a lot.”

  “What do you sell?”

  She nearly chokes on the soda she is sipping as she looks at me, wide-eyed. Her cheeks blush as my niece heads in our direction with a wet dog toy in her hand.

  “Um—it’s probably a little too graphic for present company, if you know what I mean,” she mumbles vaguely as Hannah closes in, with Kosmo only inches behind.

  I nod, guessing it’s some kind of medical equipment like catheters or scalpels, and too gory to be described in front of a seven-year-old. There are a few companies based outside of Dayton like that and, outside of JLS Heartland, they tend to be the bigger employers.

  “And that’s just a side job,” she continues. “My main job is working for a small nonprofit.”

  “Dog-related?”

  She laughs. “Not really. It’s actually an organization that promotes the vegan lifestyle.”

  I pause, taking in this information. “But you’re not—”

  “Vegan? No. I tried it for a few days once and failed miserably.”

  I sigh, relieved that I’m not taking her down the dark path by ordering General Tso’s chicken for her tonight. “I was going to say, I’m pretty sure you ate a steak at the hotel restaurant.”

  “Best steak I’ve had in a long while.”

  She must not get out much, because the steaks there are way below par. If she weren’t so young, I’d invite her to a place I know in Dayton that serves a really good steak.

  But she is young, I remind myself.

  Hannah hands her the wet dog toy. “Want to try? Kosmo can catch it before it even hits the ground. I trained him.”

  “I saw that. You’re really a good dog trainer, Hannah. So, how do I get him to do this exactly? I don’t think I’ll be as good at it as you,” Allie says.

  I love that she makes Hannah feel good about herself. I’m not sure what goes on in that school my niece attends, but it seems to be chiseling away at her self-esteem.

  Watching her with my niece I feel somewhat vindicated that I misjudged Allie’s age. It’s not the way she looks. She looks 24. But something in her eyes seems almost… tired. Like she’s seen just enough to be a little more burned-out on life than others her age.

  No, I’d guess her age to be around 28. 28 is doable for me. There’s a world of difference between 24 and 28 in my book. At 24, I was a fresh-faced, newly promoted Lieutenant JG looking to charge through life without thinking twice. Four years later, I had made it through my first two SEAL missions and was well on my way to becoming the sardonic pain-in-the-ass I am today.

  After Hannah retreats to the other side of the yard as Kosmo sniffs something intriguing along the fence line, Allie looks over at me, her gaze wandering appreciatively over my pecs. She glances away briefly before asking, “So why aren’t you in the Navy anymore? Your commander said y
ou were pretty amazing when I called him for a reference. Got a silver medal, or something.”

  I laugh. “Silver Star.”

  She blushes again, and I hate how attractive she looks when the pink rushes to her cheeks. “Sorry. I’m not really up on the whole military thing,” she says.

  “That’s all right. But I thought you said your dad was a vet?”

  “Veterinarian,” she corrects, and I’m realizing just how little she really talked about herself at dinner that night. I must have monopolized the conversation.

  “So anyway, why’d you get out?” she asks.

  I stretch my legs and watch Hannah in the distance, keeping my voice low. I never like her hearing this sort of thing. “I was shot in my shoulder pretty bad. Wouldn’t have stopped me from staying in, but it’s my dominant shoulder, so I have a harder time with an assault rifle.” I skip mentioning the fact that I had a solid six months during which I couldn’t sleep more than an hour at a time. Or the fact that the eerie silence of nighttime in Newton’s Creek brings my blood pressure up at least twenty points.

  Her brow pinches with concern. “I’m sorry. There wasn’t someplace else they could use you?”

  “Oh, sure. I could have stayed in the Navy or even commanded with an injury like mine. But I can’t be a SEAL. And that’s all I ever wanted to be.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  I hate people’s pity, but there doesn’t seem to be pity in her eyes. Only understanding. So I don’t mind. Giving a shrug, I say, “It worked out fine. My family’s going through some stuff right now, and I think it’s better for me to be here now, anyway. How about you? Why are you juggling two jobs when you should be rescuing dogs full-time?”

  “You do what you gotta do,” she replies with a grin. “And there’s not a lot of money in the dog rescuing business.”

  I crack a smile, liking that she doesn’t inundate me with the details of her life. It’s refreshing. Anytime I meet women these days, I feel like they are trying the 30-second speed-dating tactic. I’ll be standing in the produce aisle and a long-locked stranger is suddenly telling me her decades of backstory and all her life goals. Which of course, isn’t really what I want to hear since I don’t know what my life goals are anymore. Just get through my plumbing inspection with the County so I can put up my drywall in #3, I guess.