He barked again, a weak effort at best. Then he ran past her, circled around her once, and launched into the lid of a cardboard box a few feet away, landing on a purple checked blanket. That woolen cloth moved and fluttered as two more little furry puppies popped up, one white with a lighter brown head and a white circle on top, one all tan with a white snout. All three stared at her like she was their personal savior.
Grace leaned over to get a better look, but the white guy climbed out and scurried away, running through the kitchen, sliding on the linoleum, disappearing down the hall, and just as suddenly, he—she?—came back, reaching a dead stop in front of the box. Then the pup shot a playful look at Grace, dropped onto her back, and rolled over in a mewing, wagging, happy trance.
Laughing, Grace plopped to the floor by the box, enchanted. “A pack of dogs?” she asked incredulously. “Desmond called you three stuffed animals a pack of dogs?”
Dark Brown barked again, and the other one, the very color of peanut butter and fluff, tried and failed to follow her sibling out of the box, scratching at the blanket, but unable to get a hold.
“You need help, honey?” Grace reached for her, wrapping her hands around the warm, tiny belly. “What are you even eating?” Not much, by the feel of her ribs. “Did Desmond feed you?”
As she crooned and held the puppy closer, Brownie climbed out and made his way to her lap, nestling between her legs, while the third puppy kept darting around like a lunatic.
“How could he not tell me about you guys sooner?” She shook her head as she cuddled the peanut buttery one into her neck, getting bathed by a little tongue that was no doubt hungry for more than kisses. “And where is your mama?”
Dark brown guy looked up with a question in his eyes, as if he could say, I wish I knew.
Suddenly, the wild one slowed down, squatted low, and—
“Oh God, now we’re peeing in the kitchen.”
“We are?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a man’s voice.
Desmond? Still holding the puppy, she tried to stand up just as Alex Santorini walked in, and suddenly her legs felt too weak to work.
“Because I have a hard and fast no-peeing-in-the-kitchen rule,” he said, unfazed by the furry chaos.
She couldn’t help laughing at that, maybe because a completely unexpected joy bubbled up in her at the sight of him. Or maybe it was the puppies. No, it was him.
“I found puppies.”
“I see that.” He started to crouch down as the puppy on her lap tried to scramble out. “Hang on,” he said, grabbing a roll of paper towels on the counter and dabbing the yellow puddle. “Whose are they?” he asked as he tossed the paper towel in a trash bin and headed to the sink, with the brown dog right on his heels.
“Desmond, my former chef—”
He whipped around as he flipped the faucet handle. “He left puppies? What the hell?”
“No, he made a point of telling me they weren’t his. He didn’t say they lived here, just that he’d been feeding them.” She stroked the bony body that still clung to her for dear life. “But they’re so skinny.”
He shook his hands dry and bent over to scoop up the dog at his feet, then folded right on the floor next to her, moving with remarkable grace and that effortlessness that he seemed to have about everything. Conversation, flirting, almost kissing. Alex made it all look so easy.
“C’mere, little one.” He reached for Crazypants, but she scooted away, barking, wagging a tail, and then batting at Alex’s hand with a paw.
“She, or he, is pretty playful,” Grace told him.
“And what about this guy?” He stroked the one on his lap. “Baker’s chocolate for days.”
She laughed again, nuzzling the lover in her arms. “This one looks like peanut butter to me.”
He watched the way the puppy bathed her chin and neck with licks. “Looks like he thinks you taste like peanut butter.” There was something in his voice that sent a now familiar wisp of heat through her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, realizing only now that she probably should have wondered that sooner. “How did you even find me down here?”
“I came around the back when no one answered the door. My grandmother left her bag at the wedding.” He lifted the dog so they were face-to-face. “Did you eat her forty-dollar lipstick, little fellow?”
As cute as Alex was, Grace frowned at this news. “No one on the staff found a bag last night.”
He sent her a sly look she didn’t quite understand. “Shocking.”
“No, it is. If no one reported it, then someone took it.” She shifted the dog from one arm to the other. “I’ll look in lost and found.”
He waited a beat, then asked, “So, what are you going to do with these furballs?”
“I have no idea.” She closed her eyes and pressed Peanut Butter to her nose for an inhale of puppy. “With the week I have ahead of me, I can’t take care of them, that’s for sure.”
“Maybe they belong to a neighbor.”
“Maybe, but none are close, and these dogs seem really young. Too young to be on their own.”
“Well, they have each other.”
She closed her eyes again, fighting an unexpected well of emotion. “Yeah, I guess.”
“What kind of week do you have coming up? Another wedding?”
Blowing out a breath, she lowered the puppy onto her lap just as the crazy one came over, climbed onto her legs, and dropped her chin on Grace’s thigh with a sigh that sounded like she’d waited her whole life for that spot.
Smiling, Grace petted the tiny head not much bigger than a golf ball. “I’m trying to land another wedding. A big one. But…” On a sigh, she looked at him, momentarily lost at how intensely he looked into her eyes. Like he was listening with his whole being and invested in every word. Did he have any idea how sexy that was?
“But…?” he urged.
“It’s Scooter Hawkings and Blue. You know who they are?”
“Singers? Celebrities? Are they getting married?”
She chuckled. “Are you living on this planet?”
“In a Greek restaurant kitchen with no celebrity-gossip rags. They’re getting married here?”
“You don’t have to sound so stunned. This is a beautiful venue.”
“I’m not and it is,” he assured her. “It’s just that…wow. I would imagine that is a big deal.”
“It would be, if I get the business.”
“So they’re coming here this week?”
“Their advance people are, on Tuesday,” she explained. “They’re considering several wineries in western North Carolina for their wedding this spring because Blue was born out here.” She closed her eyes. “And I have to bottle our harvest this week.” She grunted. “Worst-possible timing. I might have to back out of the event.”
“Are you out of your mind? That’s got to be a game changer for you. Big names like that? Why would you back out?”
“I don’t have a chef.”
He inched back, dropping his chin to give her a get real look.
“What? I told you mine quit last…oh.” She finally caught his drift. “No, I couldn’t—”
“Of course you could. You need me here Tuesday for a meeting? Done. I’d love to cook for an event like that.”
She searched his face, considering the offer. Considering how to tell him that, sorry, the guy who runs the Greek restaurant in town is not going to have the chops for a wedding of this caliber. “I don’t know…”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re scared of me.” He laughed softly. “I won’t insult the wine. Or try to kiss you. Or…whatever you don’t want me to do.”
She couldn’t even begin to imagine all the things she didn’t want him to do, a few of which she’d already imagined while she was trying to fall asleep last night. But first things first, and she didn’t want him to cook Greek deli food for an event that would attract major media attention.
; “That’s sweet of you, Alex, but—”
“Sweet schmeet. I want the job. It’s kind of a chef’s dream. I could—” Before he finished the thought, the puppy on her lap jumped up, leaped from her to him, and tried to crawl up his shirt, making him laugh. “You like that idea, kiddo?”
Well, Grace didn’t like it. And now she had to politely talk him out of it.
“I better go look for your grandmother’s bag,” she said. “And feed these guys.”
“You can’t just give them regular food.”
“You want to cook for them, too?”
He smiled. “I’d love to, but I might kill them.”
Yikes. He really wasn’t a good chef. “Oh, then…”
“Puppies need a special diet,” he said. “I don’t know what it is, and we don’t even know how old these guys are. But we need to take them to Waterford Farm, because they’ll know exactly what to do with them.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your mom’s new husband owns a canine facility. I was there once to have some papers signed for their wedding.”
“And I’m there often enough to know that puppies need special housing, because Molly, the vet, is always freaked about some kind of virus they can get. And they do need a specific diet if their mother’s not around. And once they’re healthy and old enough, Garrett Kilcannon can get them adopted to perfect homes.”
“Home.” The word came out before Grace took her next breath, getting a quizzical look from him.
“God knows what they’ve been through, Alex,” she said. “When they last saw their mother or…” She didn’t have to rationalize it. “I won’t separate them.”
“Okay, that’s your call. But the first thing we should do is get them to a vet for some quality care. Right away. Now, actually. I’ll take them if you want.”
Her heart folded at the unexpected offer. Especially since she was sitting here wondering how to tell him his cooking skills wouldn’t be good enough to fill in for her missing chef.
“We can take them there together,” she said. “They’ll be challenging for one person. But I’m not leaving them to get…separated. Siblings shouldn’t be separated,” she added, feeling the need to defend her position. “I would think as a twin you’d really get that.”
“I was fine being away from John at a certain age,” he said with a laugh. “They can stay together until they’re older or you find their mother, but getting them placed in two or, more likely, three loving homes will be a breeze for the Kilcannons. It’s what they do.”
She stood after laying the warm puppy back on the purple blanket. “Okay,” she agreed, not willing to argue the point now. “I’ll get dressed and look for your grandmother’s bag. Can you stay here with them? I won’t be long.”
“Sure.”
As she walked a few steps, the weight of what she had to say pressed on her, along with the need to get it said and done. He wasn’t the chef for this wedding. “Alex?”
“Yeah?”
“I think…”
His brows lifted expectantly.
“I think that you…”
It was going to hurt him, she sensed. And he’d done nothing to deserve that except run a Greek deli.
“Waiting,” he teased.
“I think that you’re really nice.”
He lifted the dog he held to his lips. “Hear that, Choco? She likes me. You’re a great wingman, little guy.”
All she could do was smile. After all, he wasn’t wrong. She did like him. That didn’t mean she’d date him, kiss him, or let him cook for a major event. But, damn it, she did like him after all.
Chapter Five
The unvarnished truth was Grace Donovan didn’t want Alex to cook for that wedding. That was almost as infuriating as the fact that she’d turned down a date with him. No, it was worse.
“What the hell?” he whispered to the puppies as he found bowls in the cabinets and made sure they all drank some water. Then he secured the little house and took them outside one at a time for business, still stewing.
She was practically crying for a chef, but the one in front of her wasn’t up to par? Was she really that scared of him?
“Am I scary?” he asked the chocolate dog who peed in the grass for a good thirty seconds, then sniffed it for ten more before heading back into the house.
Nah, it couldn’t be that she was scared of him. It had to be something else.
“Help me out, doggo?” he said as he carried the smallest and lightest of the three to a fresh spot of grass. The puppy responded with big eyes and a snuggle against Alex’s ankle and an irresistible plea to be picked up. “Needy one, aren’t you?”
She licked his face and stuck her little snout in his neck as if that was her way of proving him right.
Finally, he managed to get them all back in their carton lid, pressed into the purple folds of their blanket, and carried them back up to the terrace. Since Grace wasn’t down yet, he set the box on one of the tables and texted Molly Kilcannon, his brand-new stepsister and one of the best vets in the county, to make sure she’d be at Waterford later. They exchanged a few texts, and he sent a picture of the pups, but in ten minutes they were all frantic to get free and run around.
One did, and he snagged it, and another tried, managing to get onto the table just as Grace came through the double doors that led to the terrace from the three-story house.
“I knew this was a two-man job,” she joked, jogging closer to give him a hand.
She wore jeans and a teal sweater that matched the gaze she locked on him. With her long hair pulled up into a ponytail and almost no makeup except for some clear gloss on her lips, she looked fresh and beautiful.
“I could handle them,” he said. “With leashes. Maybe a crate. And—yikes.” The wild one escaped again. “Maybe some doggie Valium for the maniac.”
She laughed. “I don’t have any of those things, but I’ll give you a bottle of wine for your help. Oh, I’m very sorry to say I scoured the lost and found and the whole terrace, reception area, and backrooms and didn’t find a handbag. Is your grandmother positive she left it here?”
“I’ll take it up with her, but, you, little devil…” He snagged the wayward puppy. “You are a wily one, little girl.”
“You sure she’s a girl?”
“I’m sure she’s wired for sound.” He held the puppy to his face and let her lick his cheek while her legs paddled the air and her white tail knocked back and forth. “Settle down, missy. Or mister. Molly will know what you are, other than cray.”
Grace laughed. “You’re definitely earning that wine,” she said.
“Don’t want wine,” he said, lowering the dog to look Grace in the eye. “I want to cook for that wedding.”
She paled a little. “That’s…nice of you to offer. I’m really looking for a very specific kind of chef.”
“A good one.”
“Of course, but even more important, someone who can be at Overlook Glen full time. You never know what they’ll need or when they’ll need it. I’m looking to hire someone who’ll be an integral part of my team, not a freelancer.”
“By Tuesday.”
She sighed. “I’ll wing it Tuesday. It’s better than bringing in someone who’ll disappear before the next meeting.”
“You’re making a mistake,” he said as he gathered up the box lid of puppies. “Because not only would you have the right chef, you’d have fun.”
“Fun,” she whispered the word.
“Buckle up, buttercup,” he teased, bumping her with the box that was full of fun. “Could be a wild ride with these three.”
He let the topic drop as they loaded the puppies into his Cherokee and headed to Waterford Farm. And it wasn’t a wild ride, because the car lulled all three of their furry passengers to sleep, with one of them snoring so loud, Alex and Grace kept cracking up.
But he couldn’t let the opportunity pass without a fight.
“So tell me about the event,” he said after they’
d been driving for a while. “The one you don’t want my help with.”
“Alex.”
“It’s okay. I can brainstorm with you, right? Give you some ideas for your big meeting on Tuesday?”
She shifted in her seat and gave a smile. “Of course. And that meeting is really just a chance for the advance team to walk the property, look at photos from other weddings, and talk preliminaries.”
“But you’ll give them food and wine?”
“I wasn’t planning to,” she said. “And the wine is definitely stressing me out.”
“How so?”
“They want a custom wine,” she told him. “Something just for the event that would be served and sent home with all the guests. They’re wine people, and she’s from North Carolina, so she wants to shine a light on the great wineries in our state.”
He took the Bitter Bark exit and threw a glance at her, unable to hide his reaction. “Holy crap, what an opportunity.”
Her return look was not as excited. “You see it as that. To me, it’s a daunting challenge.”
“Love me one of those.”
She laughed softly. “Yeah, I bet you do. But this event…”
“But what? This shindig is what you do, right? It’s like someone coming to me to make a signature dish. What could be more exhilarating?”
“I’ve never made wine without a vintner,” she admitted. “This is my first harvest on my own. We press later this week.”
“Seriously?” He shot her a look of disbelief. “Man, you are under the gun this week.” And still she didn’t want his help.
“I was thinking that if I made the cut after the first meeting, I’d offer up the Pinot. The one you called lifeless.”
“I told you, it was a ploy to get your attention.”
“It might be a little lifeless,” she said.
“It wasn’t awful wine,” he said quickly. “Just not perfect.”
She huffed out a sigh in response.
“Why don’t you use something else you have? What about the wine you’re about to press?”
“It won’t be ready to drink for eighteen months.”
He frowned, thinking about that. “Look, I only know a little about making wine, but if you’re pressing this week, doesn’t that mean you’ll have new wine? First press?”
Three Dog Night (The Dogmothers Book 2) Page 4