by Nora Roberts
“No, it damn well isn’t. It’s stalking. Tell Charlie everything. And Clare, I’ll be coming by your house every day after work until this stops.”
“I’m not going to argue. The flowers.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “There’s something just not right about a man who’d send flowers after all this. It’s not just being a pest.”
“I don’t think it ever was. Make sure you tell Charlene and the others about this. And don’t work in the store alone.”
“God.” She rubbed her forehead. “No, you’re right. I just need to settle down and think this through. I’ll call Charlie now.”
“I’m right across the street. Keep your phone with you.”
“I will. Beckett? You be careful, too. He might try to do something, something more than damage your truck.”
“Don’t worry.”
But she did. Even after she’d talked to the town deputy, she worried. She called Avery, and at her friend’s insistence they went together to retrieve the box, the note, the flowers—all of which they took to the police station.
“Beckett’s right. Sam’s a gutless bastard, but it’s better if you’re not alone—at work, at home. Anywhere for now.”
“Avery, you don’t really think he’d try something?”
“I honestly don’t know, so we’re not taking any chances. You lock your car doors when you’re in it, when it’s parked—and your house, too. Not just when you leave or at night. Promise.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not ignoring it, but I’m going to let him think I am. The less he believes I’m affected, the sooner he’ll stop.”
Maybe, maybe not, Avery thought, and watched Clare walk back to the bookstore, waited until she was inside before crossing over to the inn.
She found all three Montgomery brothers in a conference in the half-finished kitchen. “Looks great,” she said briefly. “We have to talk.”
“We’re in the middle of something here,” Ryder began. “We’re going to head over to your place in about an hour. What the hell color are you wearing this week?”
Avery pushed a hand over her hair. “Cherry Cola, it’s a little intense.”
“What’s wrong with your regular hair?” Owen wanted to know.
“I’ve worn it nearly thirty years. Do you have anything you’ve worn almost thirty years? And that’s not why I’m here. We have to talk now. Clare and I took those damn flowers over to the police station, but I don’t know what the hell they can do about it.”
“I don’t know what the hell we can do about it.” Owen shoved his measuring tape back in his tool belt. “What we’d like to do at this point would get us five to ten.”
“Breaking his legs isn’t the answer anyway, which is too bad. Look, Sam gets these obsessions. He zeroed in on me a while back.”
“When?” Owen demanded. “What?”
“Back when I was just opening the shop—that was before Clare moved back. And it wasn’t as whacked as this. He used to come in while I was working on the setup. People were in and out all day back then. Telling him he was in the way or I was busy wasn’t enough to shake him off. He’s like a frigging blood leech.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
She shrugged at Owen. “It didn’t last long, maybe a couple of weeks. Listen, Clare’s default is polite; my polite wears faster. I cured him one day when I told him if he didn’t leave me the hell alone Luther would brand his balls. Luther,” she said, speaking of the blacksmith, “was working on the vents at the time. Luther’s not going to brand anybody’s balls, but he looks like he could.”
“Pretty good thinking,” Owen decided.
“Yeah, and it worked. But this deal with Clare’s gone on a lot longer, and it’s a lot creepier. I’ve got a sick feeling about it. I trust my sick feelings.”
“Every man in the crew’s keeping an eye out for Freemont, and an eye on Clare. So are the town cops,” Beckett added. “I warned him off. Charlie Reeder warned him off.”
“I know that, just like I know doing that’s caused him to escalate. Sending her flowers after she’s sicced the cops on him? It’s twisted. I don’t know what to do about it. I hate not knowing what to do.”
“Tell her neighbors. More people looking out for her.”
Owen frowned at Ryder a moment. “That’s good, but not just her neighbors. Spread the word in town, all through town. People like Clare, a lot. We’ve got a whole community here that’ll look out for her.”
“I always knew you had a brain,” Avery observed, and felt her shoulders relax a bit for the first time in hours. “It’s something. It feels positive.”
“I’m going over there tonight, and I’ve got a couple of ideas brewing, including installing motion detector lights at her place.”
Avery nodded at Beckett, and her shoulders unknotted completely. “Okay, I like that one. More positive. I’ve got to get back, and you can count on me spreading the word during the lunch rush.”
Beckett installed the lights himself, front and back, and calculated it only took about twice as long as it might have without the “help” the kids gave him. But he got another meal out of it, and the satisfaction of seeing Clare’s relief when the job was done.
Added to it was the fun of watching the boys run outside and back a half dozen times before bedtime cheering each time the lights flashed on.
But he had to admit, he liked his couple of other ideas better, and introduced them to Clare the next afternoon at the bookstore.
He found her in the annex, restocking shelves.
“Hey, I’ve got a couple guys I want you to meet.”
Books in her hand, Clare turned. “Oh, aren’t they sweet! Where did you get them?”
Even as she asked, she set the books aside to crouch. Both dogs took that as an invitation to gambol over and lick at her hands and face. “Look at you, look at you big boys. Beckett, how are you going to keep two dogs in your apartment. Aren’t these Labs?”
“Mixes, Lab-retriever mixes, like Mom’s. They’re brothers. They’re five months old. They’ve had all their shots. They’re housebroken.”
“Yes, good boys.” She ruffled chocolate brown skin, rubbed silky ears. “They’re adorable, but don’t they need room to run around and …” She trailed off, eyes narrowing at Beckett even as the dogs vied for her attention. “And you’re not planning on keeping them in your apartment.”
“They need kids.”
“Beckett—” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “What’s your middle name?”
“Ah, Riley.”
“Beckett Riley Montgomery.”
The grin split his face. “Wow, the whole shot, the big Mom guns.”
“That’s just the first volley.”
“Boys need dogs, dogs need kids.” He lost the grin, tried a winsome smile. “You’ve been thinking about getting a dog for the boys.”
“Thinking, yes, and dog—as in one.”
“They’re brothers,” he reminded her. “You can’t separate brothers.” He crouched as she was, scrubbed an exposed belly with his hand. “You’d break their hearts. Plus they’d keep each other company when the kids are in school. They’re rescues. The people who had them just basically changed their minds. It’s like evicting a couple of babies.”
“Oh stop.”
Okay, he thought, that might’ve been laying it on a little too thick. “They need a good home, together. If you don’t want them, I’ll keep them.”
“In your apartment.”
“Well.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to separate them, or leave them in limbo.”
“This is an ambush.”
“This kind of dog is great with kids. Loyal, good-natured. They love to play, and they’ll take the roughhousing three boys will dish out.”
“Been researching, have you?”
“Yeah, some. Mom knows people who know people. Plus, they’ll let you know if anybody’s coming around the house. Dogs, even friendly dogs like these, are good
deterrents. I’d feel a lot better, Clare, if you had a couple of dogs in and around the house.”
The smaller of the two dogs laid a paw on Clare’s knee, gazed up soulfully. The sound she made—a kind of half sigh, half groan—told Beckett they had her.
“The kids are going to go crazy. God, if I do this, I have to get supplies and toys, a training manual. A psychiatric evaluation.”
“I’ve got everything they need in the truck already. Food, dishes, beds, toys. See, they’ve got their collars and leashes.”
“You don’t miss a trick in an ambush. Housebroken, you said?”
“Yeah.” He thought it best not to mention one of them had already peed on his boots. “Ah, you might have a couple mishaps, just while they’re adjusting to a new place.”
“What do I do when it gets cold? I’m here, the boys will be at school. They’d have to stay out in the yard.”
“We need to build a doghouse.”
“We do?”
“Sure. It’ll be fun.”
“Oh, Beckett.” She gave in, nuzzled dogs. “What are their names?”
“Chauncy and Aristotle.”
“You have to be kidding.”
“Afraid not. They really want new names.”
“Who could blame them?” The smaller one let out a high, excited bark, and bit his brother’s ear. “I hope this isn’t a mistake.”
“It’ll be great. Having them will teach the boys responsibility, how to take care of a pet.”
“Right.” The pups rolled between them, yipping and wrestling. “I’ll remember you said that when I’m letting them in and out and cleaning up mishaps.”
He leaned over the two dogs to kiss her. “Thanks, Mom.”
“You had me at ‘they’re brothers.’ Apparently I have a weakness. Let’s hope my parents do, too. They want a sleepover with the boys Saturday night.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. Actually they’d like it better if all of us just moved in.”
“They’ve got to be worried about you.”
“I have to call home every night, check in, reassure them my doors are locked, and so on. I only got out of joining the Saturday night sleepover by telling them I’d see if you’d consider a date with me.”
“I think I can clear my schedule.”
“Good. I’ll come by at seven.”
“You’re going to pick me up? Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out Saturday night.” She looked at the dogs, wandering now, sniffing floor and air. “You’re not the only one who can spring an ambush. Now.” She got to her feet. “You’ll have to figure out what to do with these dogs until after school. You can bring them—and the supplies—over then.”
“How about I bring pizza, too? I have a feeling everyone’s going to be too busy playing to worry about dinner.”
“Dogs and pizza. The kids are going to be in serious heaven.”
He hadn’t considered the logistics of transporting dogs and pizza, but quickly realized active pups with curious noses needed to be segregated from food. It only cost him the price of a pizza and the waiting time for the second to be made to learn the valuable lesson.
He left the pizza in its borrowed insulated delivery pack in the bed of the truck, had a bit of a struggle bringing the dogs back when they sprinted to the end of their leashes, in opposing directions. But counted every bit of the hassle worthwhile when Murphy opened the door.
Even as his eyes popped wide and his mouth dropped open, both dogs leaped forward. Murphy landed on his butt, belly-laughing as the dogs ran over him, plopped on him, licked everywhere they could reach.
“Doggies! Beckett’s got doggies.” He rolled with them, doing his best to hug them to him as his brothers charged out of the playroom.
Chaos, probably the best possible kind in Beckett’s opinion, ensued. Dogs raced, jumped, barked. Kids chased, tumbled, and shouted.
Clare came out to watch, set her hands on her hips. She started to shake her head, call some sort of order. Then found herself simply staring at Beckett.
He grinned, wide and easy, as kids and dogs wrestled and rolled around his feet. He stood, hands tucked into his front pockets, legs spread wide enough for boys and puppies to squirm through. When one of the pups tested its sharp little teeth on the toe of his boot, he just laughed and nudged it clear.
In the instant that he looked up, met her eyes, his warm, warm blue and full of fun, she fell.
Maybe she’d been sliding, she realized, inching her way along. But this was the finish line, the moment she knew—no doubts—she loved. The moment she could see herself with him next month, next year, next always.
Maybe it came with a little trickle of panic, and the uncertainty of knowing what could or would be. But the love rang as strong and as real as her children’s laughter.
And that, she thought, was that.
“Mom! Mom! Did you see?” Liam staggered up, carrying a pup whose tongue hung out in a silly doggie grin. “Beckett brought puppies over.”
“They like us.” Harry turned his face right and left as the second pup covered it with kisses. “They really like us.”
“Come see!” Murphy wrapped his arms around the one in Harry’s lap. “Come see them. They’re real cute, and they’re soft and they don’t smell bad. Can’t we have a puppy? Please, Mom, can’t we?”
“Another one?” She opened her eyes wide, feigning shock. “Two aren’t enough?”
“What two?”
“Those two.”
And, another moment, she thought. The moment when she told herself whatever the puppies did, however many times she had to clean up after them, roll out of a warm bed to let them out, it would be a small price to pay for the look of stunned, radiant joy on her little boy’s face.
“They’re ours?” His whisper echoed with that same joy.
“Ask Beckett. He’s the one who got them—and wore me down.”
Three faces turned up to his while the puppies nipped and licked. “You got them for us?” Harry managed. “For us to keep?”
“Well, they’re brothers.”
“Like us!” Liam shouted.
“Yeah, and they needed a good home. They needed some friends who’d take care of them, feed them, play with them, love them.”
“I love them.” Murphy crawled over to hug Beckett’s leg. “I really, really do.”
“Love takes some work.” Beckett crouched down. “Even when you’re tired or busy. It means making sure they get enough to eat and drink, fresh air, company. Are you up for it?”
“I promise.”
“Well, I guess you get to keep them.”
“This is the best ever. Thanks.” Liam threw his arms around Beckett, then dashed to do the same to Clare. “Mom, we got puppies.”
“You got them for us,” Harry repeated, and finally gave Beckett his angel smile. “We’ll take good care of them, always.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“Why don’t you take them out back,” Clare suggested. “Show them the ropes.”
“Come with us.” Murphy tugged on Beckett’s hand. “We’re going to show them ropes. What are their names?”
“They need good ones, so you guys better think about that. I’ve got some stuff for them out in the truck. I’ll come out after I bring it in.”
“I’ll help you bring it in.” Harry got to his feet.
“I could use a hand.”
Liam and Murphy ran toward the back, calling the dogs to come, already trying out names while Harry walked out front with Beckett.
Clare stood, absorbing love—and, studying the scattered dog hair and little dribbles of pee on her floor, thought, yes. Yes, a very small price to pay.
Chapter Eighteen
“Two dogs.” Avery arranged cheese on a platter for the gift shop opening. “I can’t get over it. Zero to sixty, Clare, that’s you.”
“It feels like it. Yesterday morning all I had to do was get three kids ready for school,
fed, lunches or lunch money distributed. This morning, after I found them all piled—three kids, two dogs—in Murphy’s bed, I had three kids to get ready for school, who all thought they really should stay home to take care of the dogs. That’s after getting up twice last night to let the dogs out.”
“Their bladders will get bigger.”
“Let’s hope. Then there’s the make sure they’re fed and watered, let them out, let them in, let them out. Then I feel guilty because we’re leaving them alone in the backyard, so I have to go check on them before I come to work, then again at lunch. Now Mazie’s dealing with all of them until I get home from the opening. I should probably run home to check again.”
“They’ll be fine. Kids and dogs, they’re a natural unit. I’m looking forward to meeting them. What are their names again?”
“I think, after much discussion, debate, false starts, we’ve settled on Ben—as in Kenobi—and Yoda.”
“Nice.”
“Sorry I’m later than I planned.” Hope hurried back to the kitchen. “We had more deliveries come in. You’re busy out there,” she said to Avery.
“Big Friday night crowd, punched up, I do believe, by the opening. People want to check it out, and figure they might as well grab dinner first.”
“Symbiotic, as desired. What can I do?”
“I guess we can start taking the trays down, that way Madeline can have everything in place.”
Trays in hand, they went out the back.
“I can’t believe it’s almost November.” Hope shook back her hair as the evening breeze caught at it. “I feel like I just moved to town.”
“We finish October with a bang with trick-or-treat night,” Avery reminded her.
“Then, bang again, it’s Thanksgiving, then Christmas.”
“Oh, don’t say Christmas.” Clare shut her eyes briefly. “I have so much left to do.”
“Then New Year’s,” Hope continued, “and we’ll be fussing with the opening for the inn. They’re really making progress with The Courtyard. Tile work, too. You need to see. Maybe we can run over before this starts.”
“I love this space.” Clare paused on the pretty patio behind the gift shop. It makes me wish I could do something like it at home.”