The Twelve Dogs of Christmas

by Lizzie Shane

  They’d reached the front of the barn, and Ben dropped Ally’s hand so she could slip on the coat she’d left on a hook there.

  “There’s always the pageant,” he commented as he shrugged into his own jacket.

  “The what?”

  “The holiday pageant on Christmas Eve. Don’t tell me you’ve never gone with your grandparents?”

  “I can’t say I have.”

  “It’s sort of a nontraditional thing,” he explained. “Half town talent show, half Christmas story, culminating with a very bizarre nativity scene. Every year it gets a little stranger—I can’t imagine adding dogs to the mix would raise many eyebrows. Let me talk to the committee and see if they’d be willing to include the dogs who haven’t been adopted yet.”

  “That’d be great.”

  The Jaws theme music played from Ben’s pocket, and he groaned, reaching for his phone. “Sorry. I’d silence it, but I want Astrid to be able to reach me.”

  “The Jaws music is your ringtone?”

  “Actually that’s my email alert for the council email.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Can you think of a better signal of doom? ‘The Imperial March’ from Star Wars is too long.”

  She eyed him as she lowered the lights in the kennel, the dogs curled up in their beds. “You know, I’m not sure you hate the council stuff as much as you want everyone to think.”

  “Oh no, I hate it more.”

  “No…” Ally shook her head. “You could have given up your seat, but you never did.”

  “Too stubborn for my own good.” He held the door open for her, and she paused, shaking her head.

  “Nope. I think you like helping people. I think you, Ebenezer, are a closet softie. People talk in this town, you know. I’ve heard about some of the initiatives you put through. Programs at the community center…”

  “It can’t all be closing shelters and crushing dreams.”

  She laughed, stepping out in the wintry softness of the night, and turned to face him, hooking one finger into the lapel of his coat. “You can pretend to be as curmudgeonly as you want. I see you, Ben West.”

  He met her eyes—and that thing came alive again, that spark that always seemed to be lingering between them, waiting to be ignited. “I see you, too.”

  The cold night air made her feel every inch of her skin as her face heated. His gaze had dropped to her lips again, but she kept her eyes on his, willing him to close the distance. His chin lowered, his eyes going heavy-lidded.

  Headlights panned across them. Ben stepped hastily back, and Ally resisted the urge to groan aloud. “That’ll be my grandparents.”

  At least they hadn’t caught them kissing in the driveway. This thing between her and Ben, whatever it was, felt too fragile to withstand the gauntlet of the Pine Hollow gossip mill.

  The car continued up the driveway, and moments later Gram and Gramps clambered out of the Subaru.

  “Ben!” Gram yelled cheerfully. “We weren’t expecting to see you here tonight!”

  “His washer’s on the fritz, so I told him he could use ours,” Ally called as her grandparents crunched across the snowy gravel.

  “Of course he can.” Gramps clapped him on the shoulder as they met at the base of the porch steps, Ben keeping a careful distance from her, though her grandparents seemed oblivious to the lingering tension in the air. “Our washer is your washer. You want some fruitcake? Rita won a fruitcake, and I can’t stand the stuff.”

  Gramps ushered Ben into the house, and Gram followed, waving a hand for Ally. “Hurry up, Ally girl. It’s cold out here.”

  * * *

  It was nearly two hours later when Ally helped Ben carry baskets full of clean, folded laundry out to his car. Her grandparents had gone up to bed a while ago—after stuffing them both with fruitcake—but neither she nor Ben had said a word about the kiss, even when it was just the two of them, folding laundry side by side, the distance between them seeming to grow larger by the second, the silence an oppressive weight.

  He regretted it. The kiss. She could feel the remorse radiating from him.

  She set the last basket beside the others in the back of Ben’s car and stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. She hadn’t worn a coat, so at least she could pretend the defensive posture was from cold and not dread. “So…”

  Ben met her eyes. “So.”

  She liked him. She really liked him. But if he regretted kissing her, if it had been an impulse brought on by loneliness…she understood that. She really hoped it wasn’t the case, but he’d been so quiet…

  “I can’t…” Ben’s voice was low even though they were alone in the middle of the driveway. “I don’t think I realized how hard Astrid took it when Isabelle left. I didn’t expect her to blame herself. And I…”

  He stopped to clear his throat, and Ally waited, dreading what she knew was coming.

  “I need to be careful. She’s already so attached to you. This can’t be…I like you, Ally, but, um…”

  But you regret it. “I understand. You don’t want—”

  “Any misunderstandings. Exactly. We have to be on the same page. The way this town gossips…and you aren’t even sure you’re staying. I just think it’s best if no one knows that we…and if we don’t…”

  “Right. Of course.”

  Ben winced. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “No. Don’t be silly. I get it.” She didn’t like it. But she understood. He was trying to do the right thing for Astrid, just like he always did. And she couldn’t promise that Astrid would never be hurt if they started openly dating. Not when everything seemed so uncertain. Not when she didn’t even know what she would do when the shelter closed.

  But a little voice inside her whispered that if he had wanted her enough it wouldn’t have mattered. If he had wanted to take a flying leap with her, she would have done it and not worried about the consequences. She would have rushed in with her heart open wide, but he didn’t feel it. A person couldn’t fall in love alone.

  “Friends?” He opened his arms.

  “Of course.” She hugged him, not squeezing too tight, trying not to breathe in his scent. Friendly.

  Friends wasn’t so bad. She liked Ben, and he liked her. That was something, even if her chest ached.

  Friends was fine.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ben spent the next twenty-four hours assuring himself that he’d made the right decision. He’d talked to Ally. They’d firmly positioned themselves back in the Friend Zone. Which was exactly where they needed to be.

  That afternoon, he drove Astrid up to the airport in Burlington to pick up his parents, trying—and failing—to steer the conversation away from the shelter.

  Snow began to fall as they were driving back, giving them a convenient excuse for holing up inside for the rest of the night and watching the puffy white flakes cover the town. Over his dad’s pancakes in the morning, Astrid chattered incessantly to her grandparents about the shelter and Ally, until his parents were both stealing glances at him and asking when they could all go over to Furry Friends. The snowfall had continued overnight, and there was a good fourteen inches on everything, so Ben escaped outside to shovel the driveway and clear his head.

  He wanted to text Ally. To commiserate with her about the frustrations of family and the fact that the entire freaking town was speculating about them—but he couldn’t do that.

  It wasn’t that he regretted the kiss. He just didn’t want anything getting blown out of proportion, and the second the town found out about them, it would’ve been like being strapped to a freight train, completely out of their control. He had to think of Astrid, didn’t he? Ally wasn’t sure she was staying, and this was the smart move—so why did the decision to keep his distance bother him so much?

  Shoveling the driveway and the sidewalk in front of his house and Mrs. Fincher’s place didn’t take long. He was nearly done when his phone rang.

  Ben
stabbed his shovel into the snow so it stayed upright, stripped off his gloves, and rushed to unzip his jacket to get to the inner pocket before the phone stopped ringing. He didn’t realize he was expecting to see Ally’s name on the caller ID until he saw Deenie’s instead.

  Frowning, he connected the call before it could go to voice mail. “Hello?”

  “Does the town have a snowblower?”

  Ben snorted. “Hello to you, too.”

  Deenie’s sigh was dramatic. “Hello. Merry Christmas. Yada yada. Does the town have a snowblower or not?”

  “We do. For the sidewalks and the square—the areas the plows can’t go.”

  “Can you send them over to Furry Friends? Ally’s snowed in.”

  Ben frowned, leaning against the shovel handle. “They have set routes, and with all the snow, it’ll take them at least a day to finish them. What’s wrong with Ally’s snowblower?”

  “Apparently it died,” Deenie said. “I called this morning to see what time they were opening, and she said she wasn’t sure they were today because the snowblower was busted and all the plow companies were booked, so she was just going to hunker down and watch It’s a Wonderful Life and eat fruitcake until tomorrow when someone can dig them out, but it’s only a few days till Christmas, which sounds like peak adoption time to me, and so I thought maybe the town could help them.”

  Ben frowned. He couldn’t commandeer the town snowblowers, and shoveling the Gilmores’ driveway was out of the question. Paul and Katie’s driveway was barely long enough to fit his car, easily managed with a scoop shovel, but the Gilmores’ stretched half the length of a football field at least.

  They’d said they were just friends—but friends helped each other out, didn’t they?

  “I don’t have a snowblower, but I know someone who does. Let me get back to you.”

  Deenie promised to keep working the problem from her end, and Ben pocketed his phone.

  He put the shovel in the tiny garage, which was so cluttered with yard equipment there was no room for his car, and jogged to the front door, dusting the snow off his gloves. A plan rolled around in his head, taking shape as he moved. A friendly plan. Something he would do for anyone he knew who was snowed in.

  Ben shoved open the front door, knocking his boots against the doorframe to shake off the snow but not stopping to take them off.

  His mother appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “That was quick. Astrid was just telling us about the brownies you made for the Christmas fair. We were thinking we might whip up a batch today.”

  “Great idea. Are you guys good with her for a while? I need to run take care of something.”

  His mother blinked in surprise. “Of course. We’re happy to watch her.”

  “Great. Thanks. Have fun.” He grabbed his keys and was out the door again before his mother could close her mouth, jogging toward his car.

  * * *

  Ben didn’t bother ringing the bell. He knew the way. He let himself into the massive glass foyer of the house, walking through the echoing quiet of the first floor to the office at the back, where he knew he would find his target hunched over his computer.

  “You know, some people take time off around the holidays,” he commented, leaning against the doorjamb.

  “Jesus!” Connor spun, half launching himself out of the chair. “What the hell?”

  Ben smiled, just as amused to startle the shit out of Connor as he had been when he and Levi and Mac started doing it to distract Connor when he was moping after Monica left. “If you had a dog, people couldn’t sneak up on you.”

  “Most people knock.” Connor stood, gripping the back of his chair. “What are you doing here?”

  “You said I could borrow your snowblower whenever I wanted.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on it. You never ask anyone for anything.”

  Ben shoved away from the door frame. “I don’t have to borrow it. I can go…”

  “No. I’ll get you the keys.” Connor was already moving past him toward the kitchen, and Ben quickly texted Deenie. “Why do you need a snowblower? Your driveway’s microscopic. Is it for some town thing?”

  “Something like that.” At Connor’s look, he pocketed his phone and explained. “Ally’s is busted, so I’m going to head over and dig her out.”

  Connor froze with the snowblower key in his hand. “Ally, huh?”

  “Don’t start. I’m being neighborly.”

  “You know, I’m feeling incredibly neighborly. I should help, too. Take some time off for the holiday. Like you were saying. ’Tis the season to check out this shelter chick everyone’s been talking about.”

  “Or you could stay out of it.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “If you come to the shelter, I’m siccing the Gilmores on you. You’ll end up walking out with a dog.”

  Connor rolled his eyes. “You aren’t going to let this dog thing go, are you?”

  “It’s hard to give up an idea when you’re as right as I am.” He’d been only half joking about Connor needing a dog before. They didn’t talk about it, but Connor had been all work and no sense of humor since Monica left. He spent entirely too much time in that home office, and right now Ben would try anything to get him back in the land of the living—even a dog.

  Connor snorted and tossed him the snowblower key. “I’m only going to see this girl you’re definitely not going all sappy for.”

  “If you say so.” His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out to check Deenie’s exclamation point–filled reply. He grinned, spinning the key ring on his finger as he eyed Connor. “Do you still have that ladder?”

  Connor arched a brow. “What kind of driveway is this?”

  “Why stop at a driveway?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  George Bailey raced through Bedford Falls, shouting the names of his loved ones as Gramps snored on the recliner with Copper curled up in his lap. Gram hummed to herself, darting in and out of the room like a whirling dervish, a woman on some unknown Christmas mission. Ally sat on the floor, wrapping the present she’d picked up for Deenie, watching television and listening to Colby’s snores harmonizing with her grandfather’s. It wasn’t such a bad way to spend a December afternoon.

  Out in the kennels, the dogs barked. Colby’s snore cut off, and he lifted his massive head before yawning hugely and flopping back onto his dog bed with a sigh. Gramps shifted in his recliner, grunting softly and scratching Copper’s belly to cover the fact that he’d been sleeping through the movie. It’s a Wonderful Life went to commercial, but out in the kennels, the barking only became more frantic.

  “What are they going on about?” Ally muttered, climbing to her feet to go investigate.

  “Probably a moose,” Gramps commented without stirring from his recliner as she passed.

  “Probably,” she agreed.

  It sounded like the dogs greeting some new arrival to the shelter, but there was over a foot of fresh snow in the driveway to keep any visitors from making it up to see them—at least until tomorrow afternoon, when she was on the standby list for a local plowing company.

  Since it might be a moose—or worse, a bear—she made a detour through the kitchen for a pot and a metal spoon to bang against each other to hopefully scare them away—though if the dogs weren’t scaring whatever it was, she didn’t know how she was going to.

  She shoved her feet into her boots, shrugged on her coat—and heard what sounded like a helicopter approaching. The engine roar grew louder by the second.

  Ally stepped out onto the front porch, and her jaw dropped at the sight that greeted her.

  It wasn’t a helicopter.

  A riding snowblower rolled up the driveway, throwing snow through the air to its left in a high, white arc. The arc of snow blocked her view of the driver, but she saw Deenie over by the kennels, knee-deep in snow and directing a small army of townspeople with shovels. She saw Astrid and Kimber, as well as Elinor and
a couple of other families who had adopted dogs in the last three weeks.

  It had worn Ally out clearing a one-person-wide path from the house to the shelter this morning so she could take care of the dogs, but now a dozen hands were at work on the problem, widening the path and clearing the area in front of the barn, where another group of townspeople appeared to be setting up a ladder and holding strands of dangling icicle lights.

  Ally felt a presence at her shoulder and glanced over to see Gram at her side, not even wearing a coat. “Did you do this? Is this what you’ve been bustling around all morning putting into motion?”

  “Don’t look at me,” her grandmother said.

  Gramps appeared behind his wife, putting her fluffy down coat over her shoulders. He looked past Ally and jutted his chin. “I’m pretty sure it was him.”

  Ally turned back, looking where her grandfather indicated, where the riding snowblower had turned and the arching white snow was no longer blocking her view of the driver as he made his way up the driveway again, widening the swath of clear space he’d already made. Ben looked up from his position at the steering wheel and grinned, lifting one hand in a wave, and the sight hit Ally right in the heart.

  He’d brought the cavalry.

  When he got closer, Ben shut off the snowblower’s noisy engine and leapt off it, his legs sinking knee-deep into the unplowed snow between him and the cleared path. “I heard you were snowed in,” he called as he trudged toward her, kicking snow everywhere.

  Ally came down the steps to meet him, belatedly realizing she was still holding a pot and a metal serving spoon when Ben glanced down at them.

  “Cooking something?”

  “I thought you were a moose,” she explained inanely.

  He nodded, swiping off his hat and dusting the loose snow off it. “I get that a lot.”

  She laughed, a sharp, startled burst of sound. “How did you…I thought you were with your parents…”

  “Oh, they’re here,” he assured her, nodding toward a couple bundled up in winter gear who were organizing strands of lights for the team currently climbing the ladders up to the barn’s eaves. “Deenie called me.”