by Lea Nolan
“This morning, she threw a hissy fit over the new paint color in the executive conference room,” Kiara explained. “I dealt with her privileged ass. On a related note, you don’t pay me enough.”
Kiara was extremely well-compensated, but in this instance, she was correct. This new partner was basically an overgrown kindergartner. Jack would have to arrange a bonus for Kiara to show his appreciation. “I don’t remember approving that budget item.”
“Because you didn’t. It’s her idea. She wants it covered out of some invisible slush fund she’s convinced we have.”
“Do not paint the executive conference room,” Jack said.
“Already canceled the painters.”
The dog bounded back with the rock and dropped it at Jack’s feet. It barked again.
“Is that a dog?” Kiara asked.
“Yes. It won’t leave me alone. I think it’s a stray.”
“Aw, that’s so cute.”
“Actually, it’s really ugly.”
Kiara laughed. “Those are the best kind.”
Jack scoffed. “Easy for you to say. You haven’t seen it. Hey, Ki,” Jack said, his voice softening.
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t need to call me about this.” The dog was perched at Jack’s feet now, gaping at him with those weird, bulging, puppy dog eyes. It had a medical condition; he was sure of it.
“I know you hate to be interrupted, but she was threatening to blow everything up,” Kiara said, apologetic.
Jack shook his head. “No. That’s not what I mean. You could have handled it on your own.”
“But I wasn’t sure what you wanted done.”
“You’ve been with me for five years. Of course, you were.”
“I guess I could have figured it out,” she said with more confidence.
“I know you could’ve. And if she gives you another ounce of trouble while I’m here, I want you to let her have it.”
“Really?”
“Double barrels.”
“Does that mean you’re having a good time?” Kiara asked.
Jack considered the question. His past weekends of solitude had been journeys through hell, filled with guilt and pain. He’d come to Heron Harbor expecting more of the same. But ever since he’d met Raven, his expectations had flown out the window. He still felt a stabbing pain whenever he thought about work, but work didn’t occupy every waking moment of his day. That respite was a new sensation, or maybe Raven was just a beautiful distraction. He just knew he felt better around her.
“I’m not having a bad time.”
“Hmm, sounds promising.” He could hear the smile in Kiara’s voice.
Jack peered up at the red-and-white striped awning of Boardwalk Pizza and Fries. Tables and chairs had been set up in the street in front of the store. Somewhere among the crowd, Raven was waiting for him to join her.
He grinned. “It does, doesn’t it?”
Chapter 8
Jack swallowed his disappointment when he spied Raven seated at a big, round table with a bunch of guys. She was talking and gesturing with her hands, and they were hanging on her every word. They were the same men he’d spent hours sweating with, but he didn’t like the look in their eyes or the way they leaned in, like wolves licking their chops before a kill.
Time to make clear who was the alpha dog.
Jack approached the table. “Hey, Raven.”
Her head turned, and her mouth slid into a huge grin. God, he loved the way her face lit up around him. “Hey. I was wondering when you’d get here.” She nodded to the guy next to her. “Tommy, you’re in his seat. Get another chair.”
Jack took his rightful place beside Raven, followed, of course, by the fucking dog he still couldn’t shake. The furry little thing sprawled out on the ground behind Jack’s seat.
It was tight quarters—again—but worth it if it meant he could be close to her. She encouraged their nearness by leaning in and laying her hand on the arm of his chair.
Raven gestured to the pitchers on the table. “We ordered a bunch of pizzas and some beer. It’s a local IPA. Help yourself.”
So Raven liked good beer. Add another check to her column. IPAs were his favorite, and he especially appreciated good local craft brews.
“Ah, a woman after my heart.” He reached for the pitcher, a move that brought him close enough to graze his chest against her shoulder and breathe in her lavender and vanilla scented perfume.
Perhaps not coincidentally, she didn’t back away. In fact, he thought he caught the hint of a smile.
He filled his mug, then took a long swallow. The taste was sharp without being too aggressive and sweet without being cloying. It had the perfect blend of hops with notes of berries and melon without a hint of bitterness. Whoever made this knew what the hell they were doing. “This is a great beer.”
“Thanks, it’s mine,” Hunter said as he approached the table. “I brew it in my garage. Just enough to sell here.”
“Hunt! Sit with us,” Raven said.
The rest of the guys shifted to make room for the chief of police.
When Hunter got settled, he poured himself a glass of his own brew, then turned to Jack. “Hey man, I wanted to thank you for all you did this morning. You really worked your ass off for us.”
Jack shook his head. “Nah, that’s okay.”
“No, really. You were a freaking machine,” a deputy named Davis said.
“We all were,” Jack said, straining to maintain some semblance of humility. Though the truth was he’d been a sandbagging monster. He hadn’t kept track, but there was a more than even chance he’d bagged more sand than any of the other guys there. Not that it was a competition.
“Yeah, but we live here. We don’t have a choice,” Tommy said from his new chair.
The guy next to him, Deputy Willis, nodded. “Not many people would pitch in like that for strangers. Let’s hear it for Jack.” He raised his beer glass.
Raven and the guys at the table raised theirs. “To Jack!”
A smile froze on Jack’s face, but he cringed on the inside. These well-meaning strangers were lauding him as a hero when he was anything but. If they knew the real him, and the pain he’d inflicted on hard-working people like them, they’d run him off this island faster than it took to order an e-trade.
Except. What Willis had said was true. Jack didn’t have to bust his ass this morning. He could’ve easily gone back to the beach house, kicked off his shoes, and napped off his breakfast, and been perfectly happy.
But he’d wanted to help these strangers in need, and for once in his life, get nothing in return. And the biggest surprise of all was that he’d enjoyed it.
He raised his glass. “Well, thank you all for slacking off so bad that you made me look good.”
The group erupted into laughter.
The pizzas were delivered, and Jack couldn’t remember the last time he was this hungry. He and Raven ate and laughed with this group of people he’d just met, yet somehow felt like he could’ve known for years. The jokes came easily, and the conversation flowed.
And best of all, more than a few times, he made Raven toss her head back and laugh.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed. Around the office, he suspected people only laughed at his jokes because they had to. But these people seemed to actually think he was funny. Like when Jack made a crack about a competitor’s subpar beer, Hunter slapped the table. “Where’d you get this guy, Raven? And why haven’t we seen him before?”
“I got him from Lark,” she answered, and Jack was pretty sure he caught Raven shoot Hunter a searching glance.
For a split-second, Hunter recoiled as if he’d been sucker punched. “W-what?”
Raven chuckled. “It’s a long story. The short version is Jack and Lark are friends.”
“Really? How is she . . . Lark?” Hunter did not come off as casually as he probably hoped.
“She’s well,” Jack said.
“Vermont. But she travels around in that RV.”
Hunter nodded. “Right. She was a great artist.”
“Still is.”
“Yeah.” Hunter looked away and took a long swig of beer.
Okay, so there was definitely some unspoken history between Heron Harbor’s chief of police and Lark. How far back it went, or how deep it got, Jack had no clue. But there was one thing he knew for certain: of all the men Lark had ever talked about, this dude had never come up. Interesting.
The dog behind Jack’s chair began to yap at Jack.
“Dude, that is one ugly dog. No offense,” Tom said.
“None taken. It’s not mine,” Jack said. He shoved his chair back and looked at the dog. “What do you want?”
“Is that thing still following you?” Willis asked.
“I tried to send him away, but apparently he doesn’t speak English,” Jack answered.
“I think I saw it on the mainland yesterday. Or maybe it was the day before that,” one of the guys from the other side of the table said.
“If that’s true, then it’s probably a stray,” Hunter said.
The dog rose on its hind legs and set its sandy front paws on Jack’s lap.
Jack gave it a stern look. “You’re not my dog, dog.” Still, he gave it a piece of crust and patted its furry head.
“Poor little guy,” Deputy Willis said.
Deputy Davis sighed. “Maybe it’s for the best.”
“What do you mean?” Raven asked.
“Rae, I can’t have it roaming the streets of Heron Harbor,” Hunter said.
“So what will you do with it?” she asked.
“If it’s not microchipped, it’ll go to the pound,” Willis answered.
“Is it a no-kill shelter?” Raven’s voice was laced with fear.
“They don’t have the room for that,” Davis answered. “Dogs get seven days before they’re euthanized.”
Damn. That was cold. Jack only fired his employees. He didn’t kill them.
“Maybe someone will adopt it.” Jack pulled off a meatball and fed it to the dog, which barked its appreciation.
“Sure. That could happen,” Hunter said.
“You don’t think?” Jack asked.
“Do you want the truth, or do you want to hear what will make you feel better?” Hunter asked.
Well, hell. Anything less than the truth would make him look like a complete coward.
Raven beat him to it. “The truth.”
“If it were cute, it might have a chance of finding a home. But that dog looks like a walking Brillo pad.” Hunter shook his head. “He’s not going anywhere.”
“That’s so sad. Hey little guy, would you want to come live with me?” Raven reached to stroke its head, but the dog gave a quick yap of dissent. Raven laughed and held up her hands. “Okay, message received. I am not your person. That’s okay. My landlord won’t let me have pets.”
And that’s when the furry little bastard turned its freaky, bulging eyes back to Jack and smiled, its pink, dangling tongue hanging loose over its jagged, little teeth.
Jack’s heart cracked in two.
Oh, fuck.
He had a dog.
Raven should have known better than to try to wash a dog that didn’t like her, but she wasn’t used to losing when it came to a battle of wills.
Which is why she found herself crouched on the bathroom floor, cajoling the little mutt toward the tub filling with warm water. “Come on, buddy. You’ll feel so much better once you’re clean.”
The dog barked his disapproval.
He was already angry that Raven and Jack had held him down and clipped off the worst of the matted clumps of fur with a pair of scissors. His coat was still rough and uneven, but at least he was free of the angry knots that must have yanked with each step he took.
Jack entered the bathroom carrying an armful of bottles and set them on the counter. “These were in the owner’s closet upstairs. You’ve got a lot of stuff up there.”
As soon as he saw Jack, the dog wiggled its stumpy tail and yapped with happiness.
The owner’s closet was a small, locked bedroom on the third floor that her father had converted to storage space when he’d first decided to rent the house out to guests. Raven had commandeered it for herself several years ago. Before she’d fallen for Smith, Wren rarely came to Heron Harbor, and Lark hadn’t set foot on the island in ages. But Raven was at the beach house so often it seemed easier to leave a permanent cache of clothes, shoes, jewelry, and toiletries. It also meant she never had to pack before coming—say, for example, after being fired for no reason at all, except that a vampire capitalist had bought out the company for which she’d bled tears.
Raven smiled. “I like to be prepared for any eventuality.”
“I didn’t see a dog washing suit.”
As if there was such a thing, and Raven would wear it. She laughed. “Sadly, I don’t own one.”
He smirked. “Not yet.”
Oh God, if Jack gave her anything resembling a suit in which one could wash a dog, even as a joke, she’d kill him. As it was, she couldn’t believe he’d wrangled her into helping with this task when she could have been enjoying some quality together-but-separate time on her own, binging one of the countless TV shows she’d never gotten to see because of how much she worked.
The water was finally high enough in the tub. Raven reached over and turned off the spigot. “Okay, it’s bath time. Who wants to be a handsome boy again?”
The dog sat down and shot Raven the evil bulging eye, which was far scarier than a regular evil eye.
“You can’t ask. Dogs need to be led,” Jack said.
“Fine. If you think you can do better, have at it.” With effort, she forced herself off the floor, then tried to shake off the charley horse that still held her right calf in a vise grip.
Jack crossed his arms and looked down at his new ward. “Pal, you either hop in, or I’ll put you in. It’s your choice. Either way, you’re getting wet.” His tone was all authority and hot as hell.
With a sigh, the dog rose to its feet, stepped to the side of the tub, then launched itself over the side.
Raven’s jaw dropped. “You’re a dog whisperer.”
Jack laughed. “I don’t know about that. But this one likes me. Though I’ve got no idea why.”
If Raven had to guess, it was because Jack had been kind and patient when the dog wouldn’t leave him alone. And most of all, when its wretched life was on the line, Jack had seen the matted, dirty little urchin for what it was, a little creature that wanted to be loved.
It was also very stinky, and that had to be rectified immediately.
Raven selected shampoo and conditioner from the countertop, and she and Jack got to work, scrubbing the dog’s fur.
Jack worked the pink shampoo around its head, neck, and back while Raven stuck to the lower regions since there was a chance it might not notice her back there.
“You need to decide on a name,” Raven said.
Earlier, when they were wrestling the dog to free him from its mats, Jack had thrown out a slew of different names. Spike, Spade, Diesel, and Domino were all appropriate for a black-and-gray dog, but none of them felt quite right.
“It has to fit his personality.”
“Abrasive?” Raven laughed.
“More like tough.”
“He looks pretty chill right now.” The dog was slack-jawed, eyes closed, blissed-out, thoroughly enjoying the massaging action of Raven and Jack’s hands.
“He hasn’t gotten this much attention in a while.” Jack scrubbed behind the dog’s ears.
By now, they’d worked the dog’s fur into a foamy pink lather. Raven laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Remember when Hunter said he looked like a Brillo pad? Now he looks like a wet, sudsy one. Maybe you should name him Brillo.” She laughed.
Jack�
��s head cocked to the side. “Huh.”
Oh, God. What had she done? “I was joking. That’s not a dog name.”
“But it fits. And I kind of like it. Hey, Brillo,” Jack said, and the dog snapped his head in Jack’s direction. “He does too, don’t you, boy?” Jack rubbed the dog’s soapy head.
Raven craned her neck to look into Brillo’s bulgy eyes. There was no way they’d ever be friends now. “I’m so sorry.”
Brillo yapped a response that probably meant, “scrub me some more, peasant,” so Raven went back to doing just that. Reaching underneath, Raven rubbed her washcloth between Brillo’s legs, expecting to find a few diddly parts to clean. But she came up empty.
Just to be sure, she made a second, and then a third pass. Nope, there were no diddly—or boy—parts accounted for.
“Um, Jack.”
“What’s that?” he asked as he poured a pitcher of clean, warm water over the dog’s head to rinse out the shampoo.
“What do you think about the name Brilla?” She bit her bottom lip.
“Are you shitting me?” He turned to his female dog. “What else do you have hiding under all that fur?”
“We’ll find out when we shave the rest of this stuff off.” Raven dumped a bowl of water over Brilla.
“How are we going to do that?”
“Your electric beard trimmer.” She’d seen the kit resting on the counter in the bathroom.
Jack’s face lost all color. “I’m not using my razor on the dog.”
“Well, I don’t have any dog grooming tools. And this dog’s fur is out of control. It needs to be trimmed.”
“It’s a three hundred dollar trimmer. It’ll destroy it.”
Raven’s head fell to the side. This guy needed to get his priorities in line. “The suit you wore last night cost what, two thousand, minimum? You can afford a new razor.”
Jack rubbed the stubble on his jaw. He’d skipped a shave this morning. “I won’t be able to shave for the rest of the weekend.”
Raven shrugged. “Pet ownership requires sacrifices. Better get used to it.”
At that moment, Brilla shook her small yet mighty body, dousing Raven in suds and water.