by Jade Kerrion
He leaped into the opportunity provided by her silence. “Look, it’s just for a few days until I track down the owner. I’m not even asking you to make the calls. I will.”
“And I’ll know that because?”
Rico stared at her as if they were speaking different languages. “Because I said I would.”
He probably didn’t know she was a lawyer. As far as she was concerned, nothing was locked down until it had been signed and sworn in front of a judge, and even then, there were ways around it. “Not good enough.”
“What do you want?” he asked. “You’re right about one thing; it’s been a long day and I don’t want to stand around and argue with you, but the dog needs a temporary home.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“Because I have two Siamese cats at home.”
“Huh…” She folded her arms across her chest. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a cat guy.”
“I’m guessing you’re not a dog gal, or any kind of gal, for that matter.”
“Was it supposed to be a compliment? Because if it was, you failed. Hard.”
“I don’t do compliments, not after twelve…eighteen hours at work.”
“Apparently you don’t do math either.”
The corner of his lips twitched. “Why do I get the feeling I landed up on your bad side?”
Guilt made her flinch. Because it’s the only side I have? Her innate sense of fair play jerked her up. He didn’t deserve the hard time she was giving him; he was just trying to do the right thing for the dog. With a scarcely audible sigh, she extended her hand. “How about we start over? Nicole Lefton.”
“Rico Vargas.” His handshake was firm. “This dog here is a Belgian Malinois, likely purebred. Male, about seven years old. Well-fed, well-groomed, and well-trained. I have no doubt this dog has an owner. We just have to find him. Where did the accident take place?”
“Three streets over.”
“Hmm…” Rico frowned. “The owner’s address is well across town. Maybe that explains why the dog was lost on the streets. Unfamiliar territory. It didn’t know how to get home.”
“Great. A directionally challenged dog. Why do I land up with the basket cases?”
“Who knows? I’m sure you’ll find out over the next few days.”
She scowled. “I can’t take him home.”
“We can’t leave him here, and I’m not going to turn him over to the shelter.”
“So why does it have to be my problem?”
“Because it already is your problem. You hit him. I fixed him up, but until his owner comes for him, it’s on you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Only because you know I’m right.” His gaze was steady. “What will it be?”
“No.”
“Wow, you are tough.”
“You have no idea.”
“Look, it’s just for two days. I’ll do my best to track down the owner over the weekend; failing which, I’ll have a backup foster home for the dog by Sunday evening.”
“What part of ‘I know nothing about dogs’ didn’t register with you?”
“The part where I said, ‘It’s really easy.’” He stepped around her to grab a packet of dog food from behind the counter. “You hold this. I’ll carry him to your car.”
“Carry? Can’t he walk?”
“Yes, he can, but I don’t want him to injure himself trying to climb into your backseat. I don’t suppose you have a tarp or something?”
“No, I don’t make it a habit of hitting stray dogs.”
“I can probably find an old blanket around here.”
The blanket he found was frayed around the edges, but it looked clean and smelled of detergent instead of dog. Nicole unlocked the car and stood back as he spread the blanket over her backseat and made another trip to get the dog. “Just give him a bit of support if steps are involved. Otherwise, he should be fine,” he said.
“Did you tell him that?”
Rico chuckled. “I’ll leave that to you.” He stroked the dog’s ears. “You be good for her now, you hear, big guy?”
He looked back at Nicole. “You have my number. Any problems, you call me.”
“Wow, customer service. Who knew?”
He winked at the dog. “Only the best for our four-legged customers.”
In spite of herself, Nicole laughed. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“No, it won’t.” Rico sounded so certain that she stopped and stared at him. “It’s going to be great.” He touched his index finger to the center of her forehead. “It’s all in here. You decide.”
“Great. You’re one of those blind optimist types, aren’t you? Think positive, and it’s enough.”
“And where did you learn to be so cynical?”
“I’m a realist. I had my cute, wide-eyed optimism knocked out of me years ago.”
He grinned. “Well, luckily for the both of us, I’ve got plenty of it to share.”
Their eyes met, and for the first time, she felt an uncomfortable tickle at the base of her spine. Wait, surely she wasn’t attracted to him—good grief. She shook her head to clear it. “It’s late, and my caffeine half-life is dropping to dangerously low levels.” Yup, that had to be it. The blood vessels in her head had shrunk, starving her brain of oxygen. She was hallucinating. If she was any more oxygen-deprived, she would probably find Freddie Kruger attractive.
Nicole got into her car seat, but before she could turn the key in the ignition, Rico tapped on the window. “I mean it. Call me if you have any questions.”
Yeah, right.
The drive home did not seem as long or as lonely with the dog in the backseat. Nicole got the dog out of the car, and then, juggling her laptop tote and the pack of dog food, she pressed the elevator button. The dog entered, as if it were familiar with elevators and apartment living.
“You have to be quiet,” Nicole told the dog as it followed her from the elevator to her apartment. Technically, pets were allowed in the condominium. However, it required an application and a hefty pet fee—something that Nicole hoped wasn’t necessary if she were only pet sitting for a few days. She would have to go through her contract to confirm.
Her shoulders relaxed the moment she walked into her home. Her one-bedroom condo, furnished out of a Roche Bobois furniture store, was small. Even so, there was space on the living room carpet for an extra comforter, folded to make a pet bed. She filled a mixing bowl with water from the sink and set it in the corner of the room.
“Come on,” she said to the dog, who stood in the hallway, studying her with a skeptical look. “That’s your bed, right there.” She patted the ad hoc bed. “It’s soft and comfy, I promise.”
The dog did not move.
She rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself. It’s right there when you’re ready to call it a day.”
Nicole walked into her bedroom and got ready for bed. The lights were off and she was tucked beneath the covers when she heard a rustling sound. She took it for the dog settling down on its makeshift bed, but the sound continued. In fact, it sounded like something was being dragged. She sat up in bed and flicked on the side lamp.
The dog stood at her bedroom door. At its feet was the comforter pile it had repositioned from its original location, together with a pillow it had taken off her couch. Apparently, it had decided that it was going to sleep in her doorway. “Happy now?” she asked the dog?
The dog turned in a circle and then slumped down on the comforter, its large head resting on its paws.
It was answer enough, she supposed. Chuckling, she said, “Whatever makes you happy, big guy.”
The dog made a woof noise that almost sounded like laughter.
Big guy: 1. Nicole: 0. But the thought rang with humor instead of sarcasm, and as she fell asleep that night, she was acutely aware of one thing. She was not alone, and it was a good thing.
Chapter 3
Breathing hard, Rico slowed from a sprint to a jog and then sto
pped by the sidewalk. He glanced at the fitness tracker he wore on his wrist—three miles, and completed in good time, despite his slow start to the weekend.
Probably had something with going to bed at 1 a.m.
His phone buzzed with an incoming text message. Big Guy whimpering. Bringing him in to the clinic.
He called Nicole back. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m on my way out the door now.”
“I’m not at the clinic. Just tell me.”
“I don’t know.” She sounded frazzled. “I wanted to take him outside, but he didn’t want to go, and now he’s making sounds like he’s in pain.”
“Does he look like he’s favoring his injured leg?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell. He won’t stand up.”
“All right, bring him back to the clinic. I’m a good distance away, but I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in about an hour.”
He frowned. “Wait, where do you live?”
“Greenwich Village.”
“Huh.” He flicked a glance at his surroundings. “I’m at Washington Square Park right now.”
“Oh.” She was silent for a few moments. “My condo is two blocks from the park.”
“Do you want me to make a house call?”
“Will you?”
“Yeah, though I’m just coming off a run at the park. I’m not dressed to impress.”
“I don’t think Big Guy will care.”
He chuckled. “Right.” Stupid me for thinking you might.
Her home was in a mixed-used building, with stores and restaurants on the lower ten floors, topped by twenty floors of condominium units. The doorman looked at Rico askance when he signed the visitor’s log, but the customary security phone call to the owner of 16-03 confirmed that a Mr. Rico Vargas was expected.
On the sixteenth floor, the elevator doors opened into a carpeted hallway. “Over here.” Nicole’s voice grabbed his attention. She was waving at him from an open door. He followed her into her apartment and went over to the dog lying on a comforter untidily spread in a doorway. He knelt and stroked the dog’s head. “What’s up, big guy?”
The dog thumped its tail in a steady, welcoming rhythm. Rico’s initial examination yielded nothing. Eyes alert. No discharge. Nose cold and wet. Breath smelled normal. No swelling in the dog’s leg, at least nothing beyond what was expected considering his injury a little more than twenty-four hours earlier.
“I don’t get it,” Rico confessed. “When was the last time he ate and drank?”
“This morning, about an hour ago. He’s hurt. Look.” She stroked the dog’s back with far less pressure than Rico had applied. “It’s all right, pumpkin. The doctor’s here now. He’s going to take care of you.”
Immediately, the dog whimpered.
Rico chuckled. “Pumpkin?” Just to be certain, he checked along the dog’s spine. No problem there either, and the dog did not flinch even though Rico was certain he was probing harder than Nicole did. “Yup, looks like a major case right here.”
Nicole’s eyes widened. “Major case of what? You can do something about it, right?”
“I don’t know. It’s usually fatal.”
“What?”
“Fatal for the owner.” Rico sat back on his heels. “Your dog has a major case of baby-ism, also known as ‘my owner is a soft-hearted sucker.’”
Nicole’s jaw dropped before comprehension gleamed in her eyes. “What?”
Rico grinned as she squatted down to look Big Guy in the eyes. Nicole cradled the dog’s face between her hands. “You think you’re smarter than I am, huh?” she asked. Her voice quivered dangerously on the edge of a laugh. “Maybe you are, and because of that, I’m not giving you the wi-fi password. Ever.”
Rico laughed. “The dog is fine. I guarantee it. He’s just playing it up. He could probably use a walk, though, and some fresh air. Want me to take him?”
Nicole gave him an uncertain glance, which was completely at odds with the abrasive, competent woman he had met yesterday under less-than-pleasant terms. “No, I’d like to take him. But if you want to come along…”
He’d had far warmer and enthusiastic invitations, but there was something different about Nicole that morning, and damn if he wasn’t intrigued.
Or maybe I’m just in a better mood.
“Can you give me ten minutes to get ready?” Nicole asked.
Only then did he notice that she was wearing a faded T-shirt and checkered pajama pants. He bit his tongue before he could make a comment on how cute she looked. Somehow, he didn’t think she would appreciate it. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just wait out here.” He gestured to her living room.
She nodded, a faint tint in her cheeks, and vanished into her bedroom after pushing away the dog’s makeshift bed. A click confirmed the locking of the door. Slowly, Rico walked around her living room, glancing at the few photographs of Nicole with an older woman—her mother, perhaps—in rather stiff poses. There were, however, none of her father.
Glimpses of family, Rico thought. Tasteful glimpses of family; he chuckled as he compared Nicole’s stylish living room to his mother’s homey living room, its every corner filled with photographs of family, extended family, and distant cousins vaguely related in some convoluted way and whose names no one could remember.
In fact, everything about Nicole screamed of her upper-class lifestyle. Copper-bottomed All Clad pots hung over the induction stovetop. They did not look like they had ever been used. The kitchen gleamed. The recycling bin was filled with empty take-out containers, each one rinsed and neatly stacked.
An orderly, solitary life, Rico thought. No wonder she was so unhappy.
The soft click of a lock gave him enough warning to turn around. Nicole, wearing a pair of jeans and a white cable knit sweater, walked toward him. “Do you want a drink?” she asked.
“No, I’m fine.”
Her smile twitched. “I should have offered you one earlier. Sorry. I just don’t think well when I’m panicking.”
“Yes, and that beast gave you lots to panic over.” Rico gave Big Guy a stern look. “Faker.”
The dog’s tail swooshed the air in an unrepentant way.
“Is he going to be all right walking on that leg?” Nicole asked.
“As long as he doesn’t attempt to chase any squirrels over an icy patch, he’ll be all right. We’ll keep the walk short, and if he tires, we’ll just bring him back.”
“Okay.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had a dog.”
“Never been manipulated by one before either.” Rico kept his pace slow until he was certain Big Guy would be all right. He banished his concerns when the dog was the first one in and out of the elevator. In fact, oddly enough for a dog as well trained as Big Guy appeared to be, he had a tendency to walk ahead instead of walking at heel. He never went too far; in fact, he stopped often to look back and make sure that Nicole and Rico were still following.
He did, apparently, have an instinct for finding parks, and without any apparent trouble, took the most direct route to Washington Square Park, pausing at all traffic intersections and waiting to the light to change to green before crossing with pedestrians.
Rico frowned. Big Guy did not look like a dog that would be hit by a car. Although he was not on a leash, he was so controlled and restrained that no pedestrian seemed alarmed by his presence or his size. Running wild in traffic seemed out of character, based on the little he had observed of Big Guy thus far.
“Your dog’s remarkable,” he said to Nicole.
“He’s not my dog,” Nicole said, but it seemed to Rico that her objection seemed more perfunctory and less vehement. “I put a bed up for him in the living room, but he pulled it to my bedroom door and slept there all night.”
“Protecting you.”
She nodded. “It was…kind of sweet. I’ve never really had anyone do that for me before.”
Protect you? Rico f
rowned. From what? “The dog has good instincts,” he said, shying away from personal topics he had not earned the right to inquire about. “And a great temperament.”
“Did you hear from the owner yet?”
Rico shook his head. “I’ve left four messages, and I plan to call back several more times over the weekend.”
“Maybe they’re out of town.”
“Maybe. It might explain the dog’s location, and why he was running loose. I’ll call the boarding facilities in the area and ask if any of them lost a dog.”
“I can’t imagine why any of them might own up to it.” Nicole chuckled. “The liability issues would be a lawyer’s wet dream.”
Something clicked in Rico’s head. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“A lawyer?”
She nodded, and he exploded into laughter. He continued chuckling even after she stared at him askance. “Sorry.” He dragged his hand over his face, but could not wipe away the smile. “All of a sudden, it makes sense.”
“What does?”
“Oh, the lawyer stereotypes. You play right into them.”
“I do not.”
“Sure you do.”
“What evidence do you have—?” She stopped suddenly and laughed. “Okay, I love to argue, and I love logic. So sue me.”
“I don’t think I’d dare.” Rico chuckled as they followed the dog into the park. “What kind of law do you do?”
“Corporate law, mostly, and a bit of pro bono work, whenever it’s available.”
“I didn’t know lawyers gave away work for free.”
“Only for good causes.”
“Such as?”
“Hannah’s Home.”
“It’s a women’s shelter, right?”
Nicole nodded. “For women trying to break away from abusive partners.”
“Yeah, I’d heard about that woman from Hannah’s Home…the former escort trying to adopt her daughter.”
“You’d heard?”
“It’s all over the news. Is that your case?”
“Yeah. I can’t really talk about it though.”
“I get it, but still, that’s cool.” Rico grinned. “Stick it to the establishment. Is she going to get her daughter back?”