“I didn’t mention this to your wife, since the mood was so festive last night, but my husband was stationed at Bagram four years ago. First Lieutenant Isaiah Jackson.”
“Oh. Is he…”
“He died in action.”
He barely flinched, but she saw the quick, dark flicker in his blue eyes. “Really sorry for your loss, Summer.”
She swallowed and nodded. “Thank you. And thanks for your service. Beck said you’re a pilot?”
“Yes. And I still fly, though not a UH-60 Black Hawk,” he said on a soft laugh. “Just a four-seater Cessna that transports rescues for Waterford. Did John tell you I’m his flight instructor?”
“No, although his grandmother mentioned he’s taking flying lessons.” She glanced down to the lawn where John had scooped up Mav and was walking toward the steps, talking to Destiny, patiently explaining that the dog hadn’t yet learned to do stairs too well. Destiny listened, rapt.
“He’s ten hours away from a solo license,” Aidan said, adding yet another dimension to her temporary landlord and boss.
“You can thank Aidan for the fridge, Summer,” John said as he reached the top of the stairs, right behind Destiny with Mav in his arms. “They had an extra at Beck’s uncle’s pizza restaurant.”
“Oh, we certainly appreciate that. Did you meet Destiny last night?” she asked.
“No, but I saw her running with the big dogs. Hello, Destiny. Do you like pizza?”
She looked up at him and nodded, silent.
“We love pizza,” Summer said, then kicked herself for jumping in when Destiny had hesitated like that. “And we’ll thank Beck’s uncle with some business, I promise.”
Still holding Mav, John angled his head toward the sliding glass doors. “Come take a tour of your humble little home.”
“You good, then, John?” Aidan asked. “No more appliances?”
“We’re good, man, thanks.” He nodded to Aidan. “And if I can squeeze in a few hours for lessons this week, I will.”
Aidan tapped his forehead in a mock salute and headed off, giving Destiny’s hair a quick ruffle as he passed. “Have fun in camp,” he said. “Slice of Heaven is catering the pizza every Wednesday, and I’m pretty sure there’s a special party planned for the day we fly out some rescue dogs. You’re gonna love it so much you’ll never want to leave.” He looked up at Summer and flashed a smile. “You might, too.”
She thanked him again, and then they followed John through the sliders, stepping into a small living area with one sofa, a chair, and a simple console for the TV.
“It’s…sparse,” John said. “But you should be comfortable.”
“It’s fabulous,” she said, having seen way worse Airbnbs that cost…well, that cost. “The view is more than anyone could want, and the kitchen is—”
“If you say nice, then I’ll know you’re lying.”
She laughed, noticing a few missing handles and the chipped Formica. “It’s more than adequate since I’ll be working at a restaurant and can get our dinner there every night.”
“Oh, one thing you’ll get at Santorini’s is great food, I promise.”
She couldn’t help putting a hand on his arm just for the sheer pleasure of one more touch, hoping he didn’t notice how many times she’d done that. “This is perfect, John. I’ll—”
“Mommy! Mommy! Look what’s in my room!” She sang the sentence, loud and clear and full of enough insistence that Summer’s heart skipped as she looked at John with a little horror.
“Please tell me it’s not a spider. She’s deathly afraid.”
“It’s not a spider. It’s probably the gift Gramma Finnie sent me home with last night.”
“A gift?”
“Butter up the lass,” he said in a dead-on brogue. “Then the mother will like you.” He winked, making Summer laugh. “Those two are focused on the mission, believe me.”
“Mommy!” Destiny bolted out of a doorway that Summer assumed led to the bedrooms, clutching something pink tightly to her chest, her eyes bright with excitement. “It has my n-n-name on it!” She turned around a throw pillow that had been neatly embroidered with Beautiful words make a beautiful destiny.
“Oh my,” Summer said, as enchanted as Destiny. “Can you read that, honey?”
She turned and frowned. “Words…make…Destiny!” She held the pillow up with a little squeal. “My name.”
Summer walked toward her, taking the pillow, which was just worn enough to show some age and love. And the embroidery had clearly been done by a talented hand. “It says, ‘Beautiful words make a beautiful destiny.’ Oh, honey, I love that.”
“Gramma Finnie is a world-class embroiderer,” John explained, coming closer to them. “When she was a young girl in Ireland, she worked in a pillow factory embroidering Irish proverbs, so she has literally dozens and dozens of these. I swear she makes them all the time.”
“Is she your gra-gra-grandma?” Destiny asked John.
“Not exactly. She’s my mother’s mother-in-law.” At Destiny’s confused look, he laughed. “Okay, basically my grandmother. And she really likes you so, last night after you left, she asked me to go up to the attic and find this for you so you’d have something special in your new house. Do you like it?”
She squeezed it to her chest. “I love it,” she whispered, using the same tone she saved for his dog.
“And John has some more exciting news for you, Des,” Summer said, giving him the opening.
He flashed a quick smile to thank her for that, then leaned a little closer to Destiny. “You know that the kids who go to Tails and Trails are allowed to bring a dog to camp?”
Her eyes widened as she stared at him.
“Or they can get one assigned to them when they arrive,” he added. “Would you like to take Maverick and help train him, or do you want to pick another dog?”
“Mavvie!” She leaped into the air like a ballerina, singing the word and making him draw back with a surprised laugh.
“She can get a little…exuberant,” Summer explained.
“It’s great. Exuberance is…” He beamed at Destiny. “We could use a little of that around here. So, Maverick is yours. Now, you might have to share for special games—”
“He’s mine?” She gasped the words.
“No, no. Des.” Summer put her hand on her shoulder. “He didn’t say that.”
She looked hard at Summer, her eyes communicating yes, he did as loud and clear as if she’d said it.
“In her defense, I did use those words,” John said quickly.
“But he didn’t mean Mav is yours yours. He meant you can go to camp with him, and when the counselors set up certain games and programs, he might be your partner. Probably for sure the first day,” she added, even though she hadn’t gotten that much detail from the organizers yet.
“It’s like you have a special friend to go to camp with,” John added, and once again his tender words touched Summer’s heart.
They obviously touched Destiny’s, based on the smile she gave him. “Thank you,” she whispered, looking down at the dog standing next to her. “I love Mavvie.”
He laughed. “I know you do, and that’s why I’m trusting him with you. I know you’ll keep an eye on him so he doesn’t get lost around bigger, older dogs. And help him get trained not to run away when he’s not on the leash. Can you do that?”
She nodded, looking hard at him, almost as if she was seeing him for the first time. Understandable, since every time she’d been around the man, the world’s biggest distraction had had all her attention.
But now, her green-gold gaze searched his face, looking intently at him.
“That was really kind of John, wasn’t it?” Summer asked, wondering if the scrutiny was because Destiny wasn’t sure she could get her next thought out without stuttering or…she had just developed a fascination with John Santorini.
Could be both, Summer mused.
“Um, are you…” Destiny whispered the
words, just intently enough for Summer’s heart to skip in anticipation of what she might say next. “Are you the d-d-daddy we came here to find?”
Oh God. Blood rushed to Summer’s face in the mother of all blushes as she opened her mouth to say something—anything—that would smooth over the awkward moment.
“Destiny, that’s an inappropriate question,” Summer finally managed.
John sort of straightened. “Maybe your mom said doggy, not daddy.”
Summer seized the explanation and silently blessed him for it. “Of course I did. We came to Bitter Bark to find a doggy. And not one someone already owns,” she added urgently, since this conversation could go only further south with Destiny begging to adopt Mav.
“And you got a pillow with your name on it as a bonus,” John said, obviously trying to help. “And you know what I have downstairs in my apartment? Popsicles,” he said, without waiting for her to ask. “The last time Christian was here, his mom brought them. Would you like one?”
She nodded slowly, still staring at him, maybe not entirely falling for the distraction.
“Then let’s get one. And get you guys moved in.” He ushered Destiny toward the door, waiting while she put her pillow on the sofa and picked up Mav.
“John,” Summer whispered. “She gets these ideas. You know, don’t take it…seriously.”
He gave a smile with just a hint of disappointment. “Thanks for the warning.”
Chapter Eight
“Knock, knock.”
Summer’s voice floated through the screen from John’s patio, a sweet and unexpected sound barely louder than the instrumental music that played from the speakers of his laptop. He lowered the volume and the computer screen to peer into the darkness of the patio, his franchising proposal and barely touched beer instantly forgotten.
“Hey.” He got up to meet her at the open sliders, the warm Carolina air carrying a whiff of her flowery scent into his home. “Everything okay up there?”
“Yes, it’s fine. I’m sorry it’s so late, but I just got Des to sleep. And…”
As he got closer, he caught sight of her in the soft light emanating from his living room, wearing a baggy oversize T-shirt and sleep pants, her pale hair clipped up sloppily on her head. The comfortable, natural look was as sexy as if she’d come down in something from Victoria’s Secret. But his favorite part of Summer at Night was a pair of red plastic-framed glasses perched on her nose.
For reasons he’d never understand, he loved that she wore glasses.
Behind him, he heard Mav rustle from his dog bed to come and investigate.
She raised a cup with a tea bag dangling from the side. “I couldn’t figure out how to heat up water for my tea, which I kind of love before bed.”
“It’s not easy without a stove or microwave, which I should have given you. Want me to take mine up now?”
Her shoulders dropped with a sigh as if the offer was just too much. “No, I don’t want you to lug your microwave upstairs, world’s most thoughtful human. But thank you. I’ll just stick this in for a minute and be out of your hair.”
“Sure.” But he didn’t want her out of his hair. On the contrary, he wanted to get his hands in hers and feel all that wheat-colored silk tumble through his fingers. “Come on in.”
As he slid the door open, it scraped over the track noisily, and he made a face. “Yikes. That’s loud. Could it wake her?”
“No, no, God, live your life. She sleeps like a rock most nights.” She smiled up at him. “But thank you for asking.”
He let her in, checking to make sure Mav hadn’t slipped out. “How are you two adjusting up there?”
“Awesome,” she said, following him into his house for the first time, glancing around. “This is a great place.”
He took the mug and headed into the kitchen, which was open to the living area and separated by a large island with a counter, where he ate most meals when he wasn’t at the restaurant.
“It works for me,” he said. “There are two big bedrooms down here, but I use one as an office, and what I think was supposed to be a formal living room in the front, but I have it set up as a media room. Feel free to look around.” He tapped the undercounter light in the kitchen and headed to the microwave.
She walked through the room, pausing at the wall-to-wall bookshelves jammed with his personal library. “You’re a reader.”
“I like books,” he said, punching the buttons on the microwave. “But I ran out of space and have gone digital.” He gestured to a tablet on the coffee table.
“What are you reading now?” she asked.
“Right now, I’m working, truth be told.”
“So, Yiayia was right. It’s work, work, work with you.” She tipped her head as she imitated his grandmother, making him laugh.
“She’s always right. Just ask her.”
Smiling, Summer peered more closely at his books. “I see you like…airplanes.” She leaned in to examine the spines. “Lots of airplanes. Whoa. Many airplanes. And…are these in alphabetical order?”
He laughed. “Guilty as charged. And not just airplanes. There are some business books up there. Textbooks, mostly, from grad school.”
“I didn’t get to the B’s yet,” she teased.
“When you do, there’s a lot of baseball books, too.”
“Oh, yes, that was on Yiayia’s résumé. MVP in high school?”
He had to laugh at his grandmother, who had spent plenty of hours in the stands watching him play. “Yep. Played in college, too. Not MVP at Chapel Hill, though.”
“What position?”
“The one that requires the most brains—catcher. And I’ve got the blown-out knees to prove it.”
“And the shoulders,” she added in a low voice that made him wonder if she’d wanted him to hear. She turned back to the books, quiet for a moment as she scanned the wall. “Dogfights of World War II?”
“I know. Riveting.” He chuckled. “Don’t even think about looking at my DVDs in the front. You’ll run screaming from the building.”
“Lots of flying movies?” she guessed, turning from the shelves to join him at the counter.
“Starting with the best of the best, Top Gun.”
“Oh yeah.” She crinkled her nose. “You and my brother.”
“He’s a fan?”
“To put it mildly. Kenny is four years older than I am and wanted no part of his pesky little sister. But I adored him—still do, to be honest—and so I’d do anything to spend time with him. Even watch Maverick and Goose lock on bogeys three thousand times.”
He laughed, getting a ridiculous kick out of her seeing “his” movie. “Three thousand?”
“And one.” She turned when the microwave beeped, the soft light casting a shadow on her face. “Then he went to college and med school, and now he’s a doctor at the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville. No more Top Gun for us.”
“Really? My oldest brother is a doctor, too. In Africa.”
“Doctors Without Borders?” she guessed. “Very cool. You must be proud of him.”
“I am. We all are. He’s…he’s…” He frowned, not exactly sure how much of Nick’s strange story he should share.
“He’s what?” she asked.
“Nick’s my brother, but it turns out we have different biological fathers, not that it matters in the least. He’s still one of my idols.”
“It ‘turns out’ you have different fathers? You didn’t know?”
“My mother didn’t know.”
She gave him a confused look. “Seriously?”
He rounded the counter and handed her the mug of steaming tea. “She, and we, found out only about a year ago when my sister, Cassie, did a DNA test as a Christmas gift for us.” He gave a dry laugh. “The gift turned out to be quite a shocker.”
“Does his biological father know?”
“He sure does. In fact, you met him last night.”
She frowned, trying to follow. “Daniel Kilcannon? Wait…w
hat? They’re married now.”
“Daniel and my mom dated briefly in college, but…” He gave a shrug. “Not that casually, apparently. Anyway, they split up amicably, and she went back home to my dad, who’d been her high school sweetheart, and the next thing she knew…she was pregnant. She and my dad got married and never had any reason to think Nico Santorini wasn’t Nico Jr.’s father. We call him Nick.”
“And your dad raised Nick as his.”
“Of course, and he died without knowing the truth. But I don’t think he’d have done anything differently. He doted on Nick. On all of us.” Letting out a sad sigh, he added, “I miss him every day.”
She closed one hand over the teacup and stirred the liquid with the bag, studying him. “So that’s where you got your good heart?”
He eyed her with a half-smile. “And here I thought it was the shoulders you liked.”
“I like both,” she said, the straightforward admission giving him a kick in the gut. “But I can tell you are a genuinely caring man.”
He shrugged again, suddenly more aware of his shoulders than he’d ever been. “I just want to do what’s right for people. Trust me, it doesn’t always work out in my favor.”
“How so?” she asked.
He considered how to answer that, then nodded to the sofa. “Want to sit down? Or make a fire and sit outside?”
“A fire?” Her eyes flashed. “Can we?”
“Of course, come on.”
He grabbed his beer in one hand and Mav in the other, then they headed outside, and in a few minutes, he had the flames dancing and lighting up the backyard. Everything was so easy and natural with her, talking quietly as they sank into Adirondack chairs he’d placed around the fire pit.
She held Mav on her lap, stroking his head, staring into the fire while John did his best not to stare at her.
“So, you were saying about your Mr. Nice Guy thing?”
He choked a soft laugh. “I don’t think I used ‘Mr. Nice Guy,’ like that’s my call sign or something.”
She pointed at him. “You need one of those, if you’re going to be a pilot. Anything in mind?”
“You don’t get to pick your own call sign,” he said. “You earn it. Like…”
Hush, Puppy Page 9