A is for Alpha

by Kate Aster

  Certainly not the goals I once had in my life.

  When the doorbell rings, I go inside to get the food. It feels good to have a reason to pull my eyes from her. Looking at Allie is somehow calming and unsettling at the same time. And it confuses the shit out of me.

  Hannah washes her hands before I even have to remind her. Apparently her mother did something right, because she sure didn’t pick that up from her dad. Plopping herself down in a seat at the table next to Allie, she fires off, “Do you believe in fairies?”

  My gut clenches up. It’s a pretty innocent question, but Allie has no idea that there’s no right answer at this point. Say yes, and she’ll repeat it to the kids at school and get teased, and say no, and she’ll be heartbroken.

  Allie looks thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen a fairy, so I don’t really know they exist. But I think it’s more fun to believe, than not to believe, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” Hannah nods sagely. “Do you want to try my egg roll?” she offers Allie.

  I breathe a sigh of relief and sit on the other side of Hannah. “Wow. You never offer me any egg roll.”

  “Silly. I know you don’t like egg rolls.”

  She’s actually wrong. I love egg rolls. I could eat twenty of them at one sitting, but I’m having a hard enough time keeping myself in shape since separating from the Navy. I’ve got workout equipment in my basement, but my routine is a far cry from the seven days a week of PT I used to do. So I’m stuck eating my chicken and broccoli and pretending that crunchy vegetables don’t make my lip curl up.

  God, I miss the Navy.

  Allie’s cheeks are bursting with color as she eats her General Tso’s chicken. I asked for it extra hot, as she had requested. “Too hot for you?”

  She finishes chewing and replies, “It’s never too hot for me.”

  I can’t miss the double entendre, and despite the fact that my niece is two feet away, I’m wondering if I see a flicker of suggestion in Allie’s eyes.

  Allie probably talks to Hannah more than she does to me during the meal, and I have to admit, I enjoy watching her do it. She shows enthusiasm for everything Hannah says, and doesn’t even bat an eyelash when the little girl changes topics two or three times in a long-winded sentence. Allie has loads of patience, and I imagine that’s why she’s so good with dogs.

  “So, are you headed to the pound to pick up another dog tomorrow?” I ask as I stack up the plates from the table. Hannah has crashed on the couch next to the warm body of my new chocolate Lab mix, and I’m betting she’ll be covered in hair when her father picks her up in a few minutes.

  I glance at Allie when a reply doesn’t come.

  “I’m not sure,” she finally says. I know enough about her already to know that she doesn’t want to give me details. That seems to be her mantra. And normally, I’d respect it. But this time…

  “Why wouldn’t you?” I dare to ask.

  “I’m…” Her voice trails almost as if she is still in the process of making a decision about something. “I’m actually selling my condo.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” She gives a nod, though it seems more directed at herself than at me. “Yeah, I am. I talked to a real estate agent the other day and the value has really skyrocketed.”

  That’s pretty unusual in this town, and I hope the agent wasn’t blowing sun up her skirt. “Property around here doesn’t normally appreciate very quickly,” I warn her.

  “Well, my condo did because the commuter bus started picking up just a few blocks from me. According to my agent, the place will sell in a week. More people from Dayton and Cincinnati are coming to live here now that there’s an alternative to driving.”

  Oh, well, that makes sense. “Are you buying something else?”

  Her cheeks puff out as she expels a slow, ample breath. “I’m hoping to. I’m bidding on a foreclosure. I’m going to live on a friend’s couch till then,” she states with a laugh. “The only bad thing is, I can’t take on any more dogs until I see if I get this foreclosure or not. And that’s killing me. There are so many dogs there right now who are running out of time.”

  “Any idea when you will hear back from the bank?” I ask, knowing the answer, but just making sure she knows it, too. I don’t want her real estate agent leading her on, especially when Allie will be sleeping on someone’s couch till she closes on something new.

  “Could be days or months. You never know with foreclosures.” She shrugs. “I don’t mind. It will all be worth it if I get it.” Her eyes drift away from mine, and I can see she’s imagining it, whatever it is. “I could keep a lot more dogs in this new place than my condo. I’m so tired of going into the pound and feeling like I’m choosing who is going to live and who is going to die.”

  Her words slice through me, flooding my senses with memories that I try to keep locked up deep inside.

  Yeah, I know how she feels.

  “Do you mind noise?” I hear myself asking her, even though I’m not really sure if the voice is coming from me.

  She laughs. “I sure better not. The place I’ll be staying is a real party building, I’ve heard.”

  “No, I mean construction noise.”

  Shrugging, her eyebrows arch in question.

  I press my lips together a moment. “I just about finished with one of the townhomes, but can’t sell it until all five of them are complete. It wouldn’t get the best price with all the noise and mess. But if you and the dogs don’t mind it, you’re welcome to it. It would just be sitting vacant, anyway. You couldn’t put any pictures up or anything, since I just painted it and I’d rather not do it over again. And if you could just try to keep the hardwoods in okay shape, you’re welcome to have a few dogs there.”

  As soon as the words rush out of my mouth, I nearly regret them. I can already foresee having to refinish the floors before trying to sell the place in a few months. But the thought of her feeling like she’s depriving some dogs of their second chance at life kills me.

  Besides, whether she knows it or not, there’s a good chance she won’t get her foreclosure. And I don’t want her thinking about the lives that were lost while she took a chance at it.

  To my relief, she shakes her head. “Thanks. But I really can’t afford to pay rent right now. Even short term. I’ve sunk every dime I have into my offer.”

  “No, no. I wouldn’t charge you to stay there. Like I said, the noise will be pretty bad and it will be empty, anyway.”

  “Really?” She seems aghast.

  “Really.” I stand when I hear a knock on the door. Kosmo lumbers off the couch and barks, waking Hannah.

  Swinging open the door, I see my brother on the other side. His eyes immediately fall to Kosmo.

  “Hey, boy!” he says, bending over him and giving him an enthusiastic head rub. Ryan glances up at me. “So, you got him?”

  “He’s all mine now,” I answer, feeling a swell of pride. I know it’s ridiculous, but I’ve wanted a dog for so long. Being deployed as often as I was, it just wasn’t a good idea till now.

  “Daddy!” Hannah cries out, her voice still sleepy. She races toward him and my brother is enclosed in her slender arms.

  I don’t normally feel any jealousy toward my brother, not for the 6,000 square foot home he lives in by himself when Hannah’s not with him. Not for the hot tub or infinity edge pool he has in the backyard. Not for the souped-up man cave just off the foyer that has a TV I couldn’t even fit in my townhome.

  But when Hannah embraces him with so much love it could fill a house and bust the doors open, I feel a pang of jealousy. He claims he wasted three years of his life with the wrong woman. But look at what he has to show for it.

  “Hi. You must be Hannah’s dad.” Allie has come up from behind me and extends her hand to Ryan. She’s already holding her stack of paperwork in her other hand and her purse is slung over her shoulder.

  Ryan flashes her a smile, and I bristle seeing his eyes give her
an appraising glance up and down. “Ryan Sheridan.” He takes her hand. “Logan’s younger brother.” He stresses the word younger as if it is supposed to matter—like if she wanted the younger version of me, then she knows where to turn. It annoys the hell out of me.

  “Allie Donovan.”

  “Allie runs the rescue organization,” I tell him.

  “Good for you. Thank you for saving this big guy.” Ryan stoops to pet Kosmo again, purely for her benefit, I’m sure.

  “My pleasure.” She turns to me. “Well, I better be going. Will you let me know how your pre-op appointment goes at the vet next week?”

  “I will,” I respond, grateful to have a reason to call her. I’m not sure why.

  “And if you have any questions—”

  “I’ll text you.”

  She nods. “Good.” She bends over to pet Kosmo. “You be a good boy, Kosmo.” Her head is close to his and her voice cracks. This must be harder than hell on her.

  Hannah embraces her around the waist. “Bye. Thanks for Kosmo.”

  “Don’t forget my offer. And good luck on the bidding process,” I add.

  “Thanks.” She touches my forearm lightly, almost as though she would have given me a hug if my brother wasn’t standing there.

  Damn you, Ryan.

  “See ya.” Her eyes linger on mine a beat or two, before she descends the short staircase and walks to her car.

  “I’ll pack up my backpack,” Hannah says, charging back inside.

  Ryan’s still watching Allie as she pulls away. “She’s cute. Single?”

  I glare at him. “Yes.”

  “Wow.”

  “Wow what?”

  “You know there’s only about a dozen single women in this town, right?”

  “Yeah, but don’t get any ideas. She’s too young for you.”

  “How old?”

  “24.”

  “On what planet is that too young for me to date? I was married at 24.”

  “And see how that turned out?” I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously, she’s off limits, bro.”

  “You’ve got a thing for her.”

  “Maybe. She’s—” Sweet. Kind. Responsible. Cute. And a hell of a kisser. But I don’t say any of that. “Too young. Ryan, she’s fresh out of college. I remember what I was like at that age.”

  “Not the jaded asshole you are now, right?”

  I shrug. He’s not too far from the truth.

  “All the more reason to date a younger woman. Who the hell needs someone who’s jaded? You’re 32. She’s 24. ‘Half plus seven’ is the rule, you know, and she falls within the range.”

  My eyes shoot upward at that formula, which I’m certain was created by a bunch of desperate old men looking for a way to justify dating much younger women. “A guy like me doesn’t fall within the ramifications of that formula.” Or any formula, I’m tempted to add.

  “Well, if you’re not going for her, then I will.”

  I look inside my door to make sure Hannah isn’t within sight, and fist his shirt close to his neck. “Still think you will?” I ask, my eyes searing into him. It’s done in jest, the way my brothers and I always roughhouse. But there’s a trace of me that’s really thinking about punching him for wanting to date Allie.

  As I release him, he backs off laughing. “Ha! I knew you had a thing for her.”

  Hannah trots back onto the front porch with Kosmo jogging along behind her.

  “Will you be at Grandma and Grandpa’s this Sunday?” she asks, grabbing my hands and proceeding to climb up me like a tree the way she has since the day she took her first steps.

  “I will.”

  She smacks a kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for saving Kosmo. I love him sooooo much.” She draws out the word “so” to last at least five seconds.

  “And I love you sooooo much,” I say, drawing out the word twice as long as I give her a squeeze.

  Chapter 7

  ~ ALLIE ~

  My life has generally moved at the pace of one of those slow-moving vehicles I always get stuck behind in a no passing zone when I’m late for something. So it’s no wonder that my hands are shaking as I sign the documents in front of me.

  In the past eight hours, I’ve vacated my condo, signed it over to a couple who commutes to Dayton, and right now I’m making an offer on the foreclosure that could change my life forever.

  I’m not sure if I’m nervous, excited, or terrified.

  Kim is waiting downstairs in a rented van with all my worldly possessions, including my newest fosters: a German shepherd, a hyperactive Welsh corgi, and a Siberian husky who sheds enough fur to stuff a pillow every thirty minutes. I keep this in mind as I scan the fine print of my offer, trying to read as quickly as possible so I don’t jeopardize a friendship that I can’t imagine living without.

  My condo sold as quickly as my real estate agent said it would. I had two offers in the first week and one was slightly over asking price. I was doing my happy dance till this morning when a thick lump of sadness settled into my throat as I signed the closing papers.

  That little one-bedroom was my last gift from my father. Not literally, but I still think of it that way. When my mother remarried a year after my dad’s death, she decided to give me a chunk of money from his estate. I think it was a guilt gift, since she must have known how I disapproved of her marrying again so quickly.

  It’s not that I dislike her husband—my stepdad, though I never call him that. I just felt like she swept Dad’s memory under the rug so quickly and that hurts. I don’t want to forget him.

  So I bought the condo here in his hometown with the money my mom gave me. I know he would have loved knowing I settled here in Newton’s Creek. And if he could look down on me right now, signing these papers to hopefully open a rescue kennel, I know he’d be smiling.

  My heart is pounding as I walk outside to see Kim’s exasperated expression awaiting me in the front seat of the van. It’s hot, but she can only have the windows half open because the corgi has made it apparent she’d have no qualms about jumping out of the car and leading us on a chase. The little short-legged dog could probably outrun a greyhound, paws-down.

  “Sorry it took so long.” I shoot her an apologetic look as I slide into the passenger seat without letting the dogs escape. I had wanted to unpack the van at Logan’s before going to the real estate office, but the closing ran a little later than expected, and I really wanted to get my offer into the bank before the end of the business day.

  “No problem,” she says not so convincingly, putting the van in reverse. Suddenly tapping the brakes, she pauses to pick some fur out of her eyes and then pulls out of the parking lot, shaking her head.

  The drive to Logan’s townhomes is brief, but we barely say a word. I know she doesn’t like the idea of me moving next door to him for free. “Nothing is free,” Kim told me when I mentioned his offer. “There are always strings attached.”

  What’s funny is that half of me is hoping for those strings. He hasn’t even seemed slightly interested in me since that night we met, and I certainly can’t blame him. I came across as some kind of freak the way I deserted him that night, and then a complete bitch to follow-up the next day.

  If I were smart, I’d push from my mind any trace of hope that I might get to touch those washboard abs again.

  But if I were smart, I wouldn’t have just sold a perfectly decent condo on the off-chance of snagging a dilapidated kennel.

  Logan steps out of his front door just as our wheels hit the noisy gravel leading up to the townhomes.

  “Good God,” Kim mutters at the sight of him in his t-shirt. He’s dirty in the sexiest way possible, his tight shirt covered in sweat and some kind of grit, and a fresh tan glowing on his shredded arms.

  He lopes over to our car window. “Just pull to the side of the building, if you don’t mind,” he says pointing. “I’m in the middle of putting pavers in the walkway. I’ll help you unload everything.”

  “The pave
rs look great,” I notice as I step onto a completed portion of a tidy path leading up to his door.

  “You like them?”

  “Love them.” I glance at Kim who looks a little pale as she steps out of the van. I can’t blame her. We just don’t see many men who look like they’ve stepped off the cover of Men’s Fitness. “Do you remember Kim from the adoption event?”

  “Of course.” He extends his hand. “I’m Logan. Thanks for all the work you do for the dogs.”

  “Mmhm,” Kim murmurs, seemingly incapable of forming full sentences just yet. I know how she feels.

  “I wish you’d have let me help you load the van,” he tells me as I hook up the dogs to the leashes. “I was free all day.”

  My gaze moves from him, to the new pavers, and back to him. “Doesn’t look like you were very free today. Besides, I really don’t have much stuff.” It’s true. My furniture is pretty spare. I never got around to buying “Big Girl” furniture after college.

  “Want to let the dogs run out back while we unload?” he asks.

  My heart picks up its pace at the word “we.” I love how he just assumes he will help. “Sounds great. But Kim and I can really do it on our own.”

  I feel her eyes burrowing into my side from the glare I see in my peripheral vision.

  “We’d love your help,” she quickly corrects me.

  I step into the house to lead the dogs to the fenced-in backyard that overlooks Newton’s Creek. A smile inches upward on my face, looking at the crisply painted walls and crown molding. A fireplace similar to the one I saw in Logan’s house is on the front wall. This townhome doesn’t have all the built-in bookshelves that Logan’s had, but I sure can’t complain. I’ve never lived in a place so elegantly adorned. The house I grew up in was okay, but a cookie cutter 1970s split foyer that had only been updated once in the early 80s can’t really stand up to a renovation like this.