Wren’s mouth hung open. No way was Dr. Leland Hawthorne a Joss Whedon fan.
“You’ve seen Dollhouse?” she asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, both seasons. It was my consolation after I got to the end of Firefly and started having withdrawals,” he said, laughing at his own joke.
“You’ve seen Firefly?!” Wren knew her eyes were bugging out of her head, but his words would not compute. Lee laughed at her.
“Why are you so surprised? Joss Whedon is a god. I never would have made it through med school without Netflix and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”
“Buffy?” Wren said the name like she was talking about one of her best friends. “All six seasons?”
“Yeah, but there’s also the comic that follows Buffy and her crew after they destroy The First, so it’s really more than six seasons.”
There was a Buffy comic? How could she not know this? More importantly, how could he know this? Wren refused to admit defeat.
“Yeah, okay, but do you know who Bad Horse is?” she challenged.
“Bad Horse, Bad Horse, Bad Horse, Bad Horse,” Lee sang, bouncing Victor in his arms. “He rides across the nation. A thoroughbred of sin. He got the application that you just sent in. It needs evaluation, so let the games begin. A heinous crime, a show of force. A murder would be nice of c—”
“Okay, you win.” Wren held up her hands in surrender, laughing in spite of herself. “You are totally worthy to take Victor home.” Anyone who could burst into numbers from Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-long Blog could have pretty much whatever they wanted, as far as Wren was concerned.
She shook her head in wonder. How on earth was he dating that sour-faced bitch monster? If Lee’s girlfriend was also a Whedon fan, Wren might have to slit her wrists.
“Good,” Lee said, pressing a kiss to Victor’s head and eyeing her with mischief. “Because you weren’t getting him back.”
She laughed again. “Okay, whatever. Just be good to him.”
“I will. I promise.”
And Wren believed him. He looked completely smitten, standing there in his dress shirt and tie, holding the golden puppy to him, and kissing the little guy’s head. Watching them made her heart ache.
She had to get it together. Wren took a deep breath.
“So, Rocky said to give you a little of the food they are used to.” She pulled herself away from the adorable picture they made and walked toward the back porch. Lee followed. She opened up the plastic bin and measured a few scoops into one of the paper bags Shelby had left for her. “They’ve been eating Iams Smart Puppy. And he said they de-wormed them last week, but they’re still trying to nurse on Millie, so he’ll probably need another round.”
Lee nodded. “Got it.” He held out a hand to take the bag from her, but Victor squirmed.
“I’ll help you out to your Jeep,” she offered, pointing toward the gate.
“Hang on.” Lee looked back at Millie, who still watched them from the pen. He crossed the yard and lowered Victor down to the golden retriever, who sniffed and licked her puppy’s face. Lee reached down and stroked Millie’s head. Wren realized that he was giving Victor and Millie a chance to say goodbye. Sudden tears pricked in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away.
She turned and sped toward the gate. If he didn’t already think she was crazy, he certainly would if she started crying now.
“Wait up,” he called behind her.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, but when she looked back, Wren saw Lee clutching Victor to him with one hand and dabbing his eyes against the cuff of his dress shirt with the other.
Holy shit.
In that instant, Wren wished that the walk to the front yard could last forever. Of course, it couldn’t, but they walked side by side until they reached the Jeep.
“I have a crate in the front seat,” Lee said, opening the driver’s side door. “Will you hold him while I get the latch?”
“Love to,” she said, taking the sweet puppy in her arms one last time. He was such a puff-ball of cute. Victor smelled musty and clean at the same time, and she buried her nose in his downy fur. Wren knew she’d miss the little guy.
Lee reached across the seat and opened the dog crate. He turned back toward her.
“I’ll take him from here.”
But Wren wanted another minute with him. With both of them.
“Can I put him in?” she asked.
“Sure.” Lee stepped back and helped her climb into the cab of his Jeep. Memories of their drive from the hospital hit her with the Jeep’s scent. With Lee’s scent, clean and woodsy.
“Time to say goodbye,” she whispered to Victor, kissing him on the ear. She leaned forward. He didn’t seem keen on entering the tan plastic crate. He butted against her to avoid its gaping entrance. “It’s going to be okay, baby. Lee will be good to you.”
She managed, finally, to hoist him inside. When she closed the gridded door, and Victor gave a lone whine, Wren leaned down and stroked his nose through the bars. “You take care of him, too, okay?”
She sat up and placed her hands on the steering wheel to give herself a second. Wren turned and found herself face to face with Lee.
“Can we be friends?” he asked.
The look on his face almost broke her heart. But she couldn’t handle that. No way. The thought of sitting across from him in a cafe or having a simple drink after work seemed impossible. She’d never be able to take her eyes off him. She’d never be able to act like a friend.
“I don’t think that would be very good for me,” she admitted.
Lee’s eyes burned into her, and he nodded. “You’re right.” But then he shook his head. “I mean, I think knowing you in any way would be good for me, but I understand.”
He was going to be the death of her.
“Hug?” she asked with a shrug. As soon as the word left her lips, she was surrounded by him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LEE HELD ON tight, memorizing the feel of her in his arms. Her small frame tucked against him. The silk of her hair on his cheek. Her perfume of patchouli and vanilla and warmth.
It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough.
When she’d opened the gate to let him in, happiness had trampled him. If he’d ever doubted goodness in the universe, his faith had been restored. Because he’d wanted so badly to see her again, but honorably. He knew where she lived. He knew where she worked. And he knew that if he went to her, he’d be going behind Marcelle’s back. And he didn’t want to be that guy.
But their stars had aligned, somehow, so that she stood before him again. Her anger hadn’t surprised him, really. In a way, he was angry, too. He wanted Wren. There was no denying it. He was angry that he couldn’t have her without hurting Marcelle. And he was angry that, because of him, Wren, who was blameless, had been hurt.
And then he’d found himself singing the Bad Horse theme song, and all anger evaporated. Her laughter made him feel like the luckiest man in the world. While she’d laughed, he’d counted the birds on her arms, wondering how many others flew across her body.
But now he was even luckier, because, as he held her, time stood still. Either that, or it ticked on, and neither of them wanted to move. She wasn’t pulling back, and he wasn’t letting go. In fact, he was beginning to doubt if he could let her go at all.
Victor whimpered, and Lee squeezed his eyes shut because he knew she’d end it. And in the next instant, her arms loosened around him.
“No.” His protest was just a whisper, but he pulled her tighter against him, and, heaven help them, she did the same.
But when a sob shook her tiny body, and her tears traced down his neck, Lee lost control. His lips found the side of her neck, just below her ear. He kissed her there. And then he kissed her jawline, tasting her tears and making them a part of him. He kissed the edge of her sweet mouth, wanting to take it all, but giving her the choice.
And for a moment, she chose him. Turning in to meet his lips with hers, she
let him taste her longing. Longing, and the sweetest, softest flesh he’d ever known. His tongue felt the shocking tip of hers just before she pulled away.
“No.” She panted, pressing her palms against his chest. And then more firmly, “No.”
He stepped back to meet her eyes, but Wren, beautiful Wren, slipped down from the seat of his Jeep and took off for the house at a run.
Lee let her go. He hated watching her leave him, but he had no right to chase her. Victor cried again and batted at the door of his crate with his paw.
“Yeah, buddy,” Lee said on a sigh. “I know just how you feel.”
LEE THANKED GOD that he’d told Marcelle not to meet him at the house Thursday night. He knew he’d pay for it later, but he told her he had some meetings after work, and he might be late. He didn’t tell her that the meetings were with a litter of puppies.
But he was in such a state when he got home all he could manage to do was pour himself a gin and tonic — one-handed because he held Victor with the other. He carried his drink and his puppy onto the front porch — a space that, since her visit, belonged entirely to Wren Blanchard — and collapsed onto his cypress swing.
He leaned back and settled the dog on his chest. Victor had whimpered a little on the drive home, but as soon as Lee had taken him out of the crate, he’d calmed down. By the time he took his second long pull of his drink, the puppy was out.
Lee envied the dog’s peace.
By his own definition, he’d cheated on Marcelle. He was a cheater. And if Wren thought he was faithless before, what did she think of him now?
He condemned himself for crossing the line, but kissing Wren… kissing Wren… He couldn’t bring himself to regret it or label it sin. As a moment in time and space separate from everything else in the world, it was more real and wonderful than any moment in his memory.
Kissing Wren was beautiful.
And it would never happen again. Knowing how weak he was, Lee would never put himself in the position to fall, and, even if he did… well, judging by the look on Wren’s face and the way she’d run from him, the chances of her getting within ten feet were pretty slim.
So with a dog on his chest and a drink in his hand, Lee cycled through the same three emotions. Guilt. Wonder. Sadness. One led straight to the next.
LEE HAD FRIDAY off, which was a godsend, since Victor needed to be walked every two or three hours — even during the night. But the puppy only had one accident in the house, so Lee felt hopeful that housebreaking wouldn’t take too long. Victor had slept on his chest most of the night, and when he wasn’t a soft mound across his front, he curled into a ball at his side. Lee smiled every time he laid a hand on the dog’s warm fluff. It helped him to sleep — even with his endless loop of emotions.
Since Marcelle had to work on Friday, Lee decided to take out his single-man kayak. Victor followed him around the yard and stayed close as he hoisted his Jocassee onto the Jeep to tie it down. Lee outfitted the puppy with the harness and leash he’d gotten from PetSmart when he picked up the dog crate, and he packed water and snacks for both of them.
He drove to the put-in under the Camellia Bridge, and laughed out loud at the sight of the golden, fuzzy-haired pup sitting calmly inside the green kayak as Lee slid the nose into the Vermilion and hopped in.
Victor sniffed the air and angled his head over the side of the hull as they skimmed out onto the river. Lee had looped the dog’s lead through one of the kayak’s bungies just in case, but Victor never tried to leap out.
Turning into the current, Lee started paddling upstream. The river wasn’t too high, but it moved steadily, and he could feel his abs engage as he got to work. He guessed it would take him about an hour to make it up to the bridge at Ambassador Caffrey, and then he’d turn around and take it easy on the way back.
Victor seemed to understand that they wouldn’t be getting out of the kayak anytime soon because the puppy stood up, moved to the space between Lee’s knees, turned around twice, and flopped down, resting his chin on Lee’s left thigh.
“Good boy.” Lee smiled down at the little guy. He was already half in love with him and dreading the moment he’d have to go back to the hospital in the morning. But by then, he’d have introduced the puppy to Marcelle, and hopefully she’d agree to look after him during his shift.
Lee didn’t kid himself. Marcelle would be a little pissed at first, but after two minutes with Victor, she’d turn to mush. Lee took a hand off the paddle to give the puppy a gentle scratch behind the ears. Victor was so darn cute. Who could resist him?
Not Wren.
The bittersweet thought came without warning, but he savored it. She’d let him take the pick of the litter, her favorite. And when Lee heard that she’d already named the puppy — after a Joss Whedon character, no less — he knew he didn’t want to call the dog anything else. Now, Lee just hoped that there would come a time when looking at Victor wouldn’t bring Wren to mind — at least not so painfully.
He needed to forget her.
Paddling harder, Lee tried to move his thoughts away from the petite tattoo artist who had managed to get under his skin without needles or ink. He settled his mind on Marcelle instead. Marcelle was good for him.
They didn’t always see eye to eye, but Lee knew that his girlfriend complemented him in ways he needed. Without her, he’d eat like a frat boy. Marcelle didn’t cook all that much, but she kept him from eating pizza every night. And while he was a dreamer, she was a planner. When he’d bought the house on Dunreath, Lee had talked about how he’d one day like to plant crepe myrtles in the front yard. Marcelle had hired a landscaper, and the job had been done two weeks later.
She was efficient. She was driven. And she loved him.
“She loves me… I think,” Lee said aloud. Victor picked up his head, regarded Lee for a moment, and dropped it again, looking unimpressed. “And I love her… I mean, we might not say the words every day, but that doesn’t change the facts, right?”
Victor didn’t respond, and Lee paddled on, working harder when the current picked up as the river bent northwest behind Alice Drive. The houses along the river here were older than those he’d just passed in River Ranch, and the trees and brush were taller, growing thicker and throwing their shadows along the bank.
“Wren probably hates me,” he told the dog, breaking a sweat now as he braced his whole body to move the kayak against the current. “She’d have to. Wouldn’t she? I mean, she wasn’t happy at all to see me last night, and I don’t think that kiss made her any happier. She couldn’t even look at me after.”
He fought the current again as the river snaked south around Beaullieu Drive to his left.
“And why should it matter if she hates me? We’ve spent — what? A total of two whole hours together? More if you count the part when she was unconscious.”
Despite his words, Lee knew that with someone like Wren, the amount of time didn’t really matter all that much. She was the kind of person who could leave a mark with just one meeting. Even if he’d never seen her again after her surgery, Lee would have remembered her. Vividly.
The effort to make the bend around Broadmoor cleared his mind, and he was breathing hard by the time the Ambassador Caffery Bridge came into view. To get a good workout and earn his snack, Lee made himself race toward it, burning lactose in his abs, traps, and shoulders. Even his legs started to burn as he braced himself in the kayak. The vessel flew over the water, and the breeze buffeted Victor’s soft curls.
Breathless and streaming sweat, Lee turned around to head downstream and rested the paddle across his lap. His body felt the welcome ease after exertion, and he’d worked up an appetite. He let them drift while he took turns popping almonds into his mouth and trying to teach Victor how to sit by offering him treats. The dog caught on quickly, his excitement clear in his eyes as he grasped the game. Lee laughed.
“Marcelle is going to love you.”
“YOU’VE GOT TO be fucking kidding me.”
Lee’s girlfriend glared down at the dog with a look of revulsion. At the sound of her voice, Victor, who sat at Lee’s feet, had the good sense to duck his head and peek up at her under his golden eyebrows. But it didn’t help.
“I thought we talked about this.” Marcelle turned her glare on Lee as he chopped mushrooms for dinner.
Lee tried to swallow his irritation. He’d been in the middle of making chicken marsala when she came in. Clearly, his plan to cushion the blow of the puppy’s arrival with her favorite meal wasn’t going to work.
“Well, I told you I wanted a dog; you listed reasons why we shouldn’t get one, and I refuted all of those reasons,” he said, slipping into debate-mode even as he kept slicing mushrooms. “Marcelle, this is Victor.”
At the sound of his name, Victor stood and wagged. Still, he seemed to know not to approach Marcelle. She ignored him.
“I can’t believe you did that. You didn’t even tell me.” Marcelle then took in the dog crate in the corner of the room. Victor’s lead and harness sat coiled on its top. She pointed to them. “You obviously planned this. It wasn’t one of your impulse purchases. How could you not tell me?”
Lee set down the paring knife. “What do you mean, one of my ‘impulse purchases’?”
Marcelle rolled her eyes. “Hello? The jukebox. The second kayak. The Xbox One…”
“I wanted all those things. I use all those things.” Lee took a breath and tried to master his voice. “If I can afford them, what’s wrong with buying things I want?”
Marcelle flipped her hair behind her shoulder, ready for battle. “You’re thirty-one years old, and you shop like a little boy. You don’t give any forethought to where something will go or how much upkeep it takes.”
Lee threw up his hands. “What the hell are you talking about? The jukebox goes in the dining room. The kayaks hang up on the porch. The Xbox is under the TV.” He felt his brows draw up in the middle with what he knew was his most condescending expression. “I don’t see a problem here.”
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