The Twelve Dogs of Christmas

by Lizzie Shane

  Ally frowned, studying his face. “You did?”

  “Right after college. I went to work for a tech start-up in Silicon Valley.”

  “Really?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. I wasn’t always Pine Hollow’s most notorious councilman. My sister and I both went out of state for college, and then my parents moved to Arizona. I never expected to come back here. When I got that job, I thought that was it. That was my life. But then Katie and Paul moved up here. They wanted their kids to grow up like we had, with that community. A couple of years after Astrid was born, I came to visit. Just randomly. Using up a bunch of vacation I’d built up. I’d been working insane hours, and I was totally burned out. I think I slept for the first two days I was here, but then I started talking to Katie, playing with Astrid. I reconnected with Connor and Levi. And I realized all I had was work. And that wasn’t what I wanted.”

  “Exactly.” Ally nodded, her eyes locked on his. “I don’t even know what I would do if I stayed here, especially with the shelter closing, but right now I can’t imagine going back to New York. I never really built a life there. The one time I tried to…I was dating this guy—Matthew. Smart, successful, checked all the boxes. But I think I was so scared of being alone I latched on to the first halfway decent guy I found and bent over backward trying to make things work with him. It took me way longer than I should probably admit to realize we wanted completely different things. I just really wanted to want the things he wanted. Does that make sense? He loved New York. He wanted penthouses and park views, and I told myself I wanted that too, but whenever I closed my eyes and dreamed about the future I saw porch swings and a big old dog lying on my feet.”

  Colby thumped his tail in his sleep, as if he knew he’d been mentioned, and she leaned over to rub his head. “And then I realized the other thing missing from all my future visions was Matthew. He never belonged on that front porch. I don’t think he even knew I wanted that. I never told him. I never disagreed with him. Which meant every time we had an argument, I would give in because I didn’t want him to leave. The only thing I ever really fought him on was Colby. He didn’t want a dog, and I wasn’t willing to give him up. I think it surprised him when I put my foot down. He was always telling me he loved me and that I was exactly what he’d been looking for—his unicorn—but I was only that person because I always let him win. And that’s what it felt like—winning and losing. Not like we were a team. Not like we were both trying to get to the same goal. My grandparents—they’re partners, you know? It doesn’t matter how different they are, they’re best friends and they want each other’s happiness as much as their own. That’s what I want.”

  She looked up and caught him watching her, her gaze snagging on his winter-blue one as her heartbeat suddenly accelerated.

  * * *

  Ben met Ally’s eyes, trying to remember all the reasons he’d thought getting involved with her was a bad idea and coming up with nothing.

  “Yeah, I, uh, I didn’t have that, either,” he admitted when the silence stretched too long. “With my ex.” He didn’t talk about Isabelle—but the usual rules didn’t seem to apply with Ally. “I felt like she was just one more thing I had to manage.” He grimaced. “Astrid asked me today if Isabelle leaving was her fault.”

  Ally winced. “Ouch.”

  “Exactly. It wasn’t. I mean the timing lined up, and maybe in a way everything that happened with Paul and Katie and having Astrid suddenly be the most important thing in my life, maybe that all put things with Isabelle in harsh perspective. I don’t know, I just—it’s like you said, we weren’t a team. It’s good it ended when it did.”

  “And you haven’t dated anyone since?”

  “No. I’ve been so overwhelmed—” He cringed. “Don’t tell anyone that. I don’t want people to think—”

  “You’re essentially a single dad. It’s okay to ask for help.”

  “I’ve never been good at that. And now I just—I don’t want to give anyone a reason to think I’m not fit to take care of Astrid. I used to have these dreams, these recurring nightmares that a social worker with a clipboard would show up at our door and tell me I’d officially failed at parenting and they were confiscating her.”

  “Ben.” Ally put a hand on his arm, her palm warm through his sweater. “You’re a great uncle. A great dad. But you’re allowed to ask for help. You don’t have to do it all yourself.”

  “I know,” he insisted, but the words rang false. “Elinor said this thing today about how Katie wasn’t perfect either, but I want to be perfect for her. Everything she dreamed of for Astrid, I want to be able to give her. They had this two-year plan—which I guess was actually a ten-year plan, but I still feel like I’m letting Katie down because I haven’t managed to fix up the house like she dreamed and move Astrid out to a big place with a lot of land where she can have a dog.”

  Ally’s hand still rested on his arm and she squeezed gently. “You know you don’t have to live Katie’s and Paul’s lives just because they can’t.”

  His shoulders tensed. “I’m not trying to live their lives.” Even if he had moved into their house. And taken over Paul’s town council seat. And Katie’s position with the PTA.

  “I know, but…all the photos in your house are of them. It’s like you don’t even live there.”

  “I’m just busy. I haven’t had a lot of time to get new photos taken.” He heard the defensiveness in his own voice. Because she was right. It wasn’t his place. He’d moved into the guest room, not the master. He’d put the Christmas tree up in exactly the same place they’d had it—and told himself it was because he wanted to hold on to their traditions for Astrid.

  “Of course.” Ally dropped her hand, letting him off the hook. “I know how that is.”

  He couldn’t meet her eyes, his gaze catching on the framed prints above the mantel—not the typical family photos, but gorgeous cityscapes of New York. Central Park. The Brooklyn Bridge. Even the candid family photos that were scattered around the room were classy, black and white and elegant. He jerked his chin at the mantel. “Did you take those?”

  Ally followed his gaze, a small smile tipping one side of her mouth. “Yeah. Back when I first moved to the city. I used to go for these long walks with my camera, trying to see everything. The world made more sense through my lens.”

  He heard the wistfulness in her voice. Did she really think she didn’t miss it?

  “You sure you don’t want to go back?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t have a career here. But I want to be here for my grandparents. And I feel like I’m closer to that porch-swing vision of the future here than I would be in the city.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe your city guy would have wanted the front porch someday. I never thought I would want the things I want now. People change.”

  “When they suddenly become guardians to wonderful little girls?”

  “Or just when they decide they want to. People always act like I gave up my big dreams to move back here, but I just changed them.” When he realized Ally was watching him, he shrugged and turned his attention back to the lights in his hands. “Maybe your guy would have changed, too.”

  “Maybe,” she acknowledged. “Or maybe the front porch guy is already here.”

  He met her eyes and the moment seemed to stretch, the air suddenly thick. Her dark eyes seemed to see right through him. He’d been so certain she was leaving. If she wasn’t…

  Bzzzzzz.

  The washing machine’s timer sounded like an alarm clock, buzzing loudly to shatter the moment.

  Ally jolted away, averting her face.

  “Time to change loads,” she said, too brightly, scrambling to her feet.

  Ben was slower to follow. “What about the lights?”

  “I think they’re officially a lost cause. I’ll tell Gram we didn’t have enough working strands.” She wouldn’t look at him. “I should go check on the dogs. Unless you need help with the laundry
?”

  “No. No, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

  “Anytime,” she chirped, grabbing her coat and bolting toward the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  She’d nearly kissed him.

  Right after she’d told him her entire life story and what she wanted most in the world.

  Ally jogged across the driveway, grateful for the bracing wake-up call of the cold. She was failing miserably at this whole keeping-it-friendly business. Everything had been going so well. They’d been chatting, sorting lights, and then suddenly she’d been telling him things she’d never told anyone. It was so easy to be honest with him. She didn’t know where the trust had come from, but she did trust him, with her innermost secrets apparently.

  And then he’d looked at her and it felt like the world went into slow motion, like there was something linking her to him and tugging the two of them closer together. Like the connection they’d built was pulling them toward a kiss.

  God, she’d wanted to kiss him—but he’d said he didn’t want that. He’d said he had to think of Astrid. Of course, Astrid wasn’t here, but still.

  Was it different now?

  The dogs barked greetings as she entered the kennels, the sound thinner now with fewer dogs than had been there a week ago. There were still plenty to adopt, but the Twelve Dogs of Christmas plan was working, and she was happy about that, happy for the forever homes, though she kind of missed Jelly’s exuberance and Harry’s zoomies and even Biscuit’s attempts to redecorate.

  She checked on the puppies and then moved through the kennel, taking the time to give each dog the attention they craved. She was in Partridge’s pen, the bulldog sprawled on his back with all four legs splayed for a belly rub, when the dogs began barking again, announcing Ben’s arrival.

  “Ally?”

  “Back here,” Ally called.

  Partridge immediately abandoned her belly rubs, rolling to his feet and waddling to his dog bed to collect his favorite toy and bring it as an offering to his deity. When Ben appeared in the open door to his run, Partridge was ready with the slightly-the-worse-for-drool stuffed purple monkey. The squeaker had long since stopped working inside, but Partridge didn’t seem to mind. He dropped the soggy monkey on Ben’s feet.

  “Charming.” Ben gingerly nudged the toy aside.

  “That’s true love right there, bringing you his favorite toy.”

  “He loves everybody,” Ben argued, but he crouched down, rubbing Partridge’s fur rolls.

  “True,” Ally agreed as she refilled his water dish and tidied up his run. “I’m amazed he hasn’t been adopted. He’s always been my favorite. A big ole droopy love machine. He’s Astrid’s favorite, too.”

  Ben’s arched brow said he wasn’t swayed. “Why don’t you adopt him yourself?”

  “It’s a slippery slope. I promised myself I wouldn’t try to save them all myself. It’s way too easy to end up the crazy dog lady.”

  He ruffled Partridge’s ears. “It must be tempting.”

  “You have no idea. I already had one foster fail with Colby—he was supposed to be temporary, but I fell in love. I’m pretty sure that’s what Astrid is hoping for—that if she gets you to spend enough time around the dogs you won’t be able to resist.”

  “Yeah, I figured that much out. But she’s going to be unpleasantly surprised. I’m a master at resisting temptation.”

  The words hung in the air between them, tangled up with double meanings.

  Ally cleared her throat, her face flaming. “Did you get the next load of laundry started?”

  “Yes. Thank you. My parents will have clean sheets to sleep on after all.”

  His parents. Safe subject. “When do they get in?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Astrid must be excited.”

  “She is.”

  Ally met his eyes at the distinct lack of enthusiasm in his voice. “But you aren’t?”

  “I am. Or I would be if I wasn’t two weeks behind on Christmas.” Ben rubbed at his eyebrow. “I hate the pressure of trying to find something everyone will like.”

  “You know, no one is going to punish you for not getting the perfect gift. The holidays shouldn’t be stressful.”

  He laughed humorlessly. “And yet they always are.” She stepped out of Partridge’s pen, heading toward Fred and Ginger’s, and Ben followed. “I just want everything to be perfect. So Astrid doesn’t feel like she’s missing out on anything. I still have no idea what I’m going to get her for Christmas. She’s only asked for one thing.”

  “You could always get her that one thing,” Ally suggested cautiously.

  She opened the gate, and Ben knelt beside her, extending his fingers to Fred and Ginger. “They’re still here.”

  “The Johnsons are picking them up tomorrow. And we got an application for Daisy. Hopefully this one sticks.”

  “Successful pet fair.”

  “Very.” She studied him, returning to their earlier subject. “Astrid’s really good with the dogs, Ben. I think she’d take really good care of one.”

  “I know she would. I just—we don’t have a yard. The goal was to fix up the house, sell it, move to a bigger one with a yard, and then get a dog. I’m just not there yet. But ever since her birthday, it’s like dogs are all she can think about.”

  “It makes sense.” Ally rolled Fred’s ball, sending him scampering after it. “Since her parents told her she could have one when she turned ten.”

  Ben’s hands went still on Ginger’s ears. “What did you say?”

  Ally looked up, the stunned expression on Ben’s face freezing her heart in her chest. “She didn’t tell you. Oh, Ben, I’m sorry…”

  “Katie and Paul told her she could have a dog?”

  “When she turned ten. Apparently that was when they thought she’d be old enough to take care of one.”

  Ben sank from his crouch to sit on the floor. Sensing his distress, Ginger climbed into his lap, giving his fingers little licks of comfort. “Why didn’t she say something? Did she think she couldn’t tell me?”

  “She probably didn’t want to upset you.” So I did that with my big mouth.

  “I don’t want her to think she can’t talk to me about Katie and Paul. She’s already missing out on so much—”

  “Ben.” Ally knee-walked across the space separating them to kneel at his side. “Something is always going to be missing at Christmas because her parents aren’t here, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t happy. That doesn’t mean you aren’t doing an amazing job. Part of her will always be sad they’re gone—of course, she’s sad—but she loves you. And I think in some ways she tries to protect you as much as you try to protect her. She’s a great kid.”

  “She is.” He looked over at her, meeting her eyes from a distance of inches.

  For the second time that night, the weight in the air seemed to grow heavy with the things they’d said. And those they hadn’t. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Since you’ve been here…”

  “I didn’t do any…” The protest trailed off when his gaze dropped to her lips.

  “You did. You do.” His pupils seemed to have doubled in size in the low light of the barn.

  They were just friends, of course they were, but tonight it felt like they’d been dancing on a tightrope, never more than an inch away from falling into a kiss. If she could just will it to happen—

  Ben leaned closer and her focus narrowed to his lips and the inch separating them from hers. He moved slowly, slow enough for her to stop him—but that was the last thing she wanted to do. One large hand cupped her jaw and her eyelids fell shut a fraction of a second before his lips brushed hers.

  She’d wondered if the Friend Zone thing was because they had no chemistry. If she would feel nothing when he kissed her.

  Turned out, chemistry was not a problem.

  After the first questioning touch, Ben made a sound low in his throat and tilted his head, deepening the kiss. Ally leaned into him, o
nly the pressure of his lips and her grip on his lapel keeping her from falling over. His beard was soft against her skin, and every cell of her body hummed to life. He slipped one arm around her—

  And tiny paws scrambled over her lap, rough little tongues lapping at her hand where it rested on his arm.

  They broke apart, a slight smile curving Ben’s lips as a pair of dachshunds climbed all over them. Ally grinned, that bubbly helium feeling back.

  “We should probably…” She tilted her head toward the house.

  “Good idea.” Ben climbed to his feet, offering his hand to help her up. As she came to her feet, Maximus groaned in the next run, but Ally didn’t look away from Ben—

  Until a noxious odor wafted in their direction.

  “Ugh.” Ally cringed, trying not to breathe. “Maximus.”

  “Wow.” Ben held one hand over his nose and mouth.

  The moment officially dead, Ally hurried toward the pen door so they could escape, her eyes watering. “The Force is strong with that one.”

  “No interest for the big guy yet?” Ben asked through his hand as they evacuated from the smell zone—and he clasped her hand in his.

  Ally tried not to float right off the ground. Be cool, Gilmore.

  “Not yet. Though maybe someone who saw his Twelve Dogs feature will still decide to come in.”

  “It seems to be working.” He nodded toward one of the empty runs as they passed it.

  “It is. Though we have a ways to go. And I still don’t know what I’m going to do with Dolce and her puppies. Gram is trying to convince Gramps to keep Dolce, but we still have to find homes for the pups once they’re weaned.”

  “How many were there?”

  “Astrid didn’t tell you? She’s obsessed with them, especially little Lulu. There are four—three boys, one girl. All with the most adorable little squishy faces. Kimber claimed one of the boys, but I need to add the others to the website and get them up on Petfinder. Especially since I think we’re pretty much out of Pine Hollow Christmas events we can crash with the dogs to try to convince people to adopt them.”