Man's Best Friend (The Dogmothers Book 6)

by Roxanne St Claire

  “He is that,” Declan said. “He whines the minute I leave a room, then gets up to follow, and that makes him howl, but now I know why. How can you know that already?”

  She gave a shrug. “Gut instinct, I guess.”

  Dr. K put a hand on her shoulder. “Evie has always been the most tender and empathetic surgeon I know.”

  “Oh, thank you,” she said.

  “Agreed,” Molly chimed in. “Every animal is like your own child.”

  She smiled at the compliments, turning back to the dog to get the attention off of her. “They are babies,” she said. “You just need some love and attention, right? Maybe peanut butter and bacon, too.”

  His eyes flickered at the word bacon, making them all laugh. “Well, he knows what bacon is,” she joked.

  “Which we have plenty of at Waterford,” Molly said. “And vet techs who can work overnight, too.”

  Evie nodded, trying to ignore the ache building in her chest as she looked into the dog’s eyes. “Will he be crated?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid if he’s in one of our bigger kennels, he’d have a little too much freedom of movement,” Dr. K said. “So we’ll keep him in our holding and healing room, which actually has another patient right now, so he won’t be completely alone.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, imagining his sad face as he rested in a cage.

  Declan angled his head, looking at her. “You don’t like that idea.”

  She laughed softly. “Am I that transparent?”

  “To me.”

  Her heart nearly flipped in her chest. “I know you have an amazing staff here, and he’ll be in such good hands,” she said quickly. “We should do the MRI first thing tomorrow, if we can get into Vestal Valley.”

  “I have some pull there,” Dr. K said, taking out his phone. “Let me make a call.”

  “Let me go see if I can grab our weekend vet tech you can talk to,” Molly added, stepping out after her father.

  “Thanks.” Evie bit her lip, barely aware that she’d tunneled her fingers into Lusky’s thick fur. “You’ll be in good hands, love,” she whispered.

  “But you’d like him in your hands.”

  At Declan’s words, and the sweet, soft way they were spoken, she looked up at him. “I do have a lot of room, and…would you mind?”

  He laughed. “I don’t think there’s any stopping you at this point. Dog in need,” he said to Lusky, “meet your new best friend. And roommate.”

  “Really?” She felt her whole face brighten. “You wouldn’t mind if I kind of kidnapped him while we get him better?”

  “On one condition,” he said, his eyes glinting with a hint of that tease she’d missed.

  She lifted a brow and tried to ignore the quiver that ran through her at the possibility that his condition might be…an evening together. “Anything.” Because her answer would be yes.

  As he was about to reply, Molly and Dr. K walked in.

  “We’re good to go at Vestal Valley,” Dr. K said.

  “Vet tech can stay all night,” Molly added.

  “Actually, Lusky’s going home with Evie,” Declan said. “That is, if I can also get her to perform his surgery.”

  That was his condition? So, not a date. Chill, Evie, chill.

  “Me?” She hadn’t picked up a scalpel in nearly a year. She was emotionally invested in Lusky’s owner, whether she wanted to admit it or not. And she was far from the elite surroundings of NC State’s facilities.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Molly said.

  “There isn’t a surgeon in the state with your skills,” Dr. K agreed.

  “You’re all very kind,” she said. “Let’s look at the MRI and make a game-time decision.”

  “I’ll take that,” Declan said. “And of course he’ll stay with you for as long as you like.”

  Molly slid her arm around Evie’s. “If we get him comfortable for a few hours, can you join the family for Sunday dinner?”

  “Oh, I’d love to, but I have another patient at home. And if you think ol’ Lusky here can make some noise, then you can’t imagine a ninety-two-year old World War II vet who wants his ‘linner’—late lunch, early dinner—at exactly the same time every day. But I’ll take a rain check, I promise.” She gave the dog another gentle stroke. “I’d like to get Lusky home and situated as soon as possible.”

  “Absolutely,” Dr. K. said. “Dec, can you help Evie get this boy to her house?”

  Instantly, Evie’s hand froze. She didn’t look up, but she could feel the tension that suddenly stretched through the room.

  Declan Mahoney hadn’t stepped foot in Gloriana House since before the fire that killed his father. And she would never ask him to—

  “Of course,” he said. “We’ll take whatever supplies we need from here, meds, and a dog bed. I can bring him over in my truck. Right now, Evie?”

  “I think that would be best for the dog.”

  As he nodded slowly, Evie could have sworn she saw one brick of his protective wall tumble to the ground. Now if she and this wobbly dog could manage not to trip over it, things would be looking up for both of them.

  Chapter Six

  The great contradiction about Gloriana House was that it represented the best and the worst of Declan’s life. For the first twenty years, the stately Victorian that sat at the top of the hilly residential section known as Ambrose Acres was the home of one of his favorite people on earth. Knocking on the big leaded-glass front door had meant he was moments away from Evie Hewitt and her laughter and beauty and warmth.

  For the second twenty years of his life, the monster loomed, bearing down on the town, its very existence a reminder that Joe Mahoney had once roamed these streets, saving lives and doling out advice to family and strangers.

  So, now, at forty-one, Declan was entering the third twenty years of his life, and maybe it was time that Gloriana House represented something else. Something bright and positive and constant.

  Jeez, it had been a long time since he’d felt bright and positive. But that was the magic of Evie. Ever since he’d heard her voice at the bakery, something deep inside him had shifted a little.

  Maybe that was his dreaded basement door opening up. Or…closing.

  “What do you think, bud?” he said to the sleeping dog. “How about we change things up in our boring lives, huh?”

  The dog’s eyes stayed tightly closed. He was sound asleep, thanks to whatever Uncle Daniel had given him, and maybe his dog’s sense that a sweet, nurturing, wonderful woman was making room in her heart for him.

  “Lucky dog,” Dec murmured. Could she ever make room for…a man? This man? This very man who’d once felt the earth move with love for that girl?

  Because she had been a girl. And he’d been a boy. And life hadn’t really happened yet.

  It had been a long time since Declan had allowed himself to think about that night in the mountains. Forced every year to celebrate and mourn on the very same day, he’d never allowed himself the luxury of thinking about the other milestone of life that occurred on August 28.

  The date had rolled around a little over a month ago, less difficult but no less meaningful for Declan and his whole family. Not once on that day had he thought of it as the one and only time he and Evie had sex.

  But he couldn’t help remembering when he saw her…and wishing it had all turned out so damn different. If they hadn’t gone camping that night, if Dad hadn’t taken his shift, if life had dealt them different cards, what would have happened?

  He wouldn’t have been killed in the fire because he’d have never been sent in first, not back then, less than a year out of probation. So…would he and Evie be married? Would Dad be retiring and helping Declan prepare to take his place as chief? Would she have moved back and started a practice here? Would they have…kids?

  God, she’d have been a spectacular mom. And he’d have been…content.

  Coming around the last corner, he looked up to the hill, forcing himsel
f to stare at Gloriana House, trying to look at it objectively.

  Painted in shades of deep yellow and creamy white, all trimmed with dark brown accents, the three-story manor stood like a monument to an era gone by. Its classic mansard roof draped over the top floor like icing on a cake, and graceful Palladian-arched windows offered maximum light and balance. Wrought-iron railings wrapped around the first and second floors, each supported by stately white columns. A single octagonal-shaped tower rose up from one corner, topped by a pointed turret. The locals liked to say that tower was built by Thad Jr. to be the closest thing to heaven in all of Bitter Bark.

  Reaching out on the other side—a second-story veranda that covered a large patio underneath.

  That would be the closest thing to hell.

  New perspective, Dec. New perspective.

  After all, it wasn’t the same overhang that had collapsed and killed his father after rags soaked in linseed oil had combusted into a blaze on the patio underneath it. Penelope Hewitt, Evie’s grandmother, had rebuilt the whole wing in keeping with the historical architecture. No doubt there was still a first-floor sunroom, once Evie’s mother’s painting studio, adjacent to that patio, and a bedroom above it that opened up to an upstairs veranda. But the physical structure was not the same, and Declan had to remember that.

  “Plus, you’ll be there,” he said to the dog as he turned in to the drive. “And maybe you can keep talking to Evie for me, since I apparently suck at it.”

  He spotted Evie’s compact SUV in the driveway. She stood next to it, looking at her phone, waiting for him, bathed in light and surrounded by that glow that always drew him closer.

  No, it wasn’t that he couldn’t talk around her. He simply couldn’t find the words that she so deserved to hear. He didn’t even know what they were.

  She looked up and waved, a breeze fluttering her dark hair.

  How about… You’re beautiful and I loved you.

  Loved.

  “Past tense, right? With a D. Right, pooch?”

  Pooch didn’t answer.

  Declan stared at Evie, feeling an ancient and familiar kick in his gut and that ache he remembered waking up with one morning in the mountains. He’d known for sure at that moment that they were meant to be. Then…life and pain and family changed everything. Well, it changed him.

  And he didn’t have the first clue how to explain that to her, but if they were going to spend time together, he’d damn well better figure it out.

  Shaking off the thought, he took a deep breath, parked, and climbed out, opening the back cab as Evie approached. “The pupper is crashed.”

  “Happy juice,” she said, reaching in to pet him. “Any chance you could carry him?”

  “Of course.”

  “I called Granddaddy and told him what’s happening, and he insisted on dressing and coming downstairs to greet you. You’d think I was bringing home a prince.”

  He gestured to the dog. “You sort of are.”

  “Pretty sure he didn’t mean the dog. Come on. I’ll open the door for you and then grab the bed,” she said. “Then we’ll get the rest of his stuff.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He leaned over to reach for Lusky, but Evie put her hand on Declan’s arm, stopping him.

  “Dec.”

  He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “I know this isn’t easy.”

  For a moment, he didn’t speak, but got a little more lost in her eyes. Were they always that hauntingly silvery-gray-blue with a hint of sapphire around the iris?

  “And I appreciate it,” she added, yanking him from his way-too-close examination of her eyes.

  “You’re the one doing me a favor, E,” he said quickly.

  Those eyes shuttered when he used the nickname he bet—he hoped—no one but him ever called her.

  “What I appreciate,” she said, “is you…talking. Giving me a chance. Coming up here. And…” She added some pressure on his arm. “Just you,” she finished on a whisper.

  How did she do that? How did she say those things so easily?

  “S’okay.” He gave her a tight smile and turned back to the dog, not trusting his voice or his ability to ever have the right words.

  Once, years ago, he’d have had those words. He’d have teased her or punctuated the conversation with a tap on the tip of her nose. He might have even leaned down and kissed her once they’d broken that barrier.

  But that guy disappeared a long time ago. Now, he barely managed a lame s’okay.

  “Got him,” he said, turning with his hairy bundle. She walked with him, snagging a giant dog bed from the back of her SUV and leading the way up the three steps to the front door.

  It opened before she could even fish out a key.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the good Captain Mahoney himself.” Max Hewitt stood in the doorway, wearing crisp cotton pajama pants, a loose T-shirt, and a Navy baseball cap at a jaunty angle over his feathery gray hair.

  Once a staple around Bitter Bark—usually when he was being feted for his generous donations, including a hefty annual sum to first responders—Max Hewitt had spent the better part of the past ten years since his wife died inside this house. That was obvious from his complexion, which was pale but for a few oddly shaped splotches the EMT in Declan recognized as purpura.

  His shoulders were narrow to the point of bony, and he had a sunken chest and probably pronounced ribs. Still, he gave a big denture-heavy smile, and Declan half expected him to salute.

  “Special delivery, Mr. Hewitt.” Declan hoisted the dog an inch higher. “We’re bringing a guest.”

  “I couldn’t be happier,” he said, stepping back into the oversize entry to allow them in.

  “Let’s put him here for the moment,” Evie said, laying the bed to the side of the stairs. “When he wakes up and feels ready to move, I’ll take him out and then let him get the lay of the land.”

  Declan eased the big guy onto the bed, making sure he was fully cushioned and comfortable before standing up to properly greet the older man, who instantly stretched out his arms.

  “You give me a hug, Declan Mahoney.”

  Declan reached down to embrace a man he remembered as five-ten or so, but who’d shrunk to more like Evie’s five-six.

  “So great to see you, Mr. Hewitt.”

  “Please, son. It’s Max for you.”

  Evie stepped a little closer, putting a gentle arm on her grandfather’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t navigate those stairs alone, Granddaddy.”

  He grunted and shot her a look. “I’ve been up and down those steps ten million times in my life, young lady. There are nineteen of them, the sixth one from the bottom creaks, and the second one from the top has a nickel under the carpet that I put there when I was nine.” He added a toothy grin. “I didn’t want to greet this important guest from my bed.”

  Declan smiled at him, admiring the effort that this old man had taken. “Thank you, Max. And I’m sure if he were awake, this boy, who we’re calling Lusky, would thank you.”

  “Lusky? Not in this house.”

  “Oh, Granddaddy, you’re not going to insist on the Thad tradition of dog names, are you?”

  Declan frowned. “Did you have a dog named Thad? I remember…” He dug into his memory, coming up with a border collie Evie had adored. “Oh, yeah. Taddy.”

  “And Jude, Faddei, and yes, Taddy,” Max said. “All of them forms of Thaddeus, which is the only name a dog who lives in this house will ever have. It was the original owner’s personal rule.”

  Evie rolled her eyes. “Well, this dog isn’t going to live here, and he doesn’t look like a Thad.”

  Max took a few steps closer and looked down at the dog, who lifted his head a bit and sniffed. He blinked and slowly started to push up.

  “Easy.” Declan stepped closer, not wanting the dog to hurt himself or greet Max with paws to the chest.

  “I think he’s a little too hammered to jump,” Evie said.

  Bu
t he did manage to get up on all fours and give a quick shake. Max came a little closer, and Declan put his hand down, ready to snag him if he jumped.

  “Hello, handsome,” Max said. “That’s quite a face you have. And a tail. And a body.”

  In response, the dog whipped his fluffy tail, making them all laugh.

  “He needs a name as striking as he is,” Max said. He put his hands on his slender hips and leaned forward, holding the dog’s gaze. “You shall be Judah. That’s the Hebrew form of Thaddeus, if I’m not mistaken. My grandmother Amelia had a big black dog named Judah when I was a little boy, and I loved him.”

  “Judah.” Declan nodded. “It suits him.”

  “Judah it is,” Evie said, giving her grandfather a gentle hug. “Now can I take you back upstairs and bring you some food?”

  “Declan can walk me up,” he said. “I’d like a private word with him, if you don’t mind.”

  She looked a little surprised at the request, but Declan crooked his arm toward Max.

  “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

  They turned to the stairs and paused at the bottom of the mountain of red. As long as he could remember, the carpet on these steps had been ruby red. Kind of garish, but it suited the house.

  “Slow and easy, son,” Max said. “Nineteen steps.”

  “With a squeak and a nickel.”

  He smiled as they made their way up, taking their time, but not talking until they reached the top. When they did, Declan turned and looked down at Evie, who was sitting on the floor, petting Lus—Judah—who’d gotten back onto the bed.

  She leaned back and looked up at Declan, her eyes bright even from the floor-to-ceiling distance. “You okay?” she mouthed.

  Maybe she meant with the job of trudging Max up the stairs, or maybe she was wondering about all the emotions of being in the house. Didn’t matter. She just…got him. And that made him way more than okay.

  He nodded and added a wink, then lost sight of her as they headed down the hall.

  “I am not going to lie,” Max said as they got closer to the bedroom. “I was dumbstruck when Evie called to say you were coming here.”

  Declan was quiet for a moment, not sure how he was supposed to respond to that.