“Just trying to get everyone’s names straight.”
Next to her, Pru leaned closer. “Usually when we have guests, I make little name tags in front of everyone to help out.”
“You do?”
“And I like to run new people through the events of the day,” she added. “So you know what to expect.”
“That’s why we call her General Pru,” Shane chimed in.
“Someone has to keep order in all this chaos, lassie.” Gramma Finnie, as Beck was instructed to call the octogenarian, put an arm around Pru and added a squeeze. “You do you, as we say.”
As no other eightysomething Beck knew said, but then, hadn’t someone told her Gramma Finnie was something of a minor Internet sensation herself?
“Was it difficult to start your blog?” Beck asked the older woman.
“I didn’t set out to be a blogger, ye know,” Gramma Finnie said. “I wanted a place to keep all the sayings and proverbs I have in my head from my old country, and this little angel…” She gestured in Pru’s direction with a weathered hand with deep-violet nails. “took the time to teach me how to use a computer and the internet, and I’ll be danged if I’m going to be one of those old folks they make fun of on BuzzFeed.”
She knew what BuzzFeed was?
“Then it sort of happened. Before I knew it…” Gramma Finnie laughed and shrugged. “I had a following.”
Beck’s mouth slipped open wider. “That’s amazing.”
“Nothing like Darcy, though,” Gramma Finnie said. “Her Insta puts us all to shame.”
“And brings in a ton of business,” Shane added.
Darcy waved off the compliment. “Please. I take pictures of dogs being groomed,” she explained. “It’s nothing. You’re the real photographer, right? Dad told us you photograph babies.”
“I do,” she said. “I own a studio called Baby Face, and all I do is take sweet portraits of tiny little miracles every day.”
“Awww.” Andi put her hand on her very large belly. “Will you take one of BTB when he or she is born?”
“Of course. With Christian, if you like.”
“And Jag!” the little boy chimed in with a mouthful of food.
“What a fun job,” Darcy exclaimed. “Babies are even cuter than puppies, if that’s possible.”
“Both in the same shot would be gold,” Beck agreed. “I’d love to try it.”
“How did you get into that business?” Darcy asked.
“I went to art school in Chicago and majored in photography with an emphasis on portraits,” she explained. “I didn’t love doing adult portraits, but I discovered I had a knack for working with little ones. One of my friends had a baby, and she let me do the pictures and use them for marketing. Then I posted them in every Mommy and Me group in and around Chicago. And before I knew it, the business was booming.”
“Success is doing what you love,” Gramma Finnie said, her Irish brogue as thick and sweet as the bread pudding Beck had seen come out of the oven a while ago.
“You’re to be commended on your determination,” Dr. K said.
“Oh, she’s determined.” Next to her, Aidan shot her the shadow of a smile, enough that all she wanted to see was more.
“Determined to get people to tell other people about my business,” she said. “And it worked. Word of mouth is everything when you’re growing a small business, as I’m sure you know.”
Darcy snapped her fingers like she’d had an idea. “We need a dog photographer here. Professional.”
“There’s a business Waterford doesn’t have yet,” Shane said. “I like it.”
Aidan shook his head. “Don’t try to get Beck to do more than a few shots of Liam and Andi’s baby. She’s up to her eyeballs with the pizza parlor problems. Right, Beck?”
She glanced at him, almost surprised that he’d mention her travails at Slice of Heaven. But why deny it? “It’s a challenge, that’s true.”
“I know it’s been tough since your uncle got sick,” Dr. K said.
“It has. Business is slow.”
“I know a lot of people tried to stop in and support the place after your uncle’s stroke,” Chloe said. “Did that help?”
“A little, but…” She shook her head, embarrassed to admit it was her failure in the kitchen that ended the local love. “I’m afraid my aunt is thinking about giving up, selling, and moving to Florida. She thinks Uncle Mike might do better in a tropical climate.”
A collective groan rolled around the table. Not Aidan, though. He didn’t moan at all, Beck noticed.
“That’s a shame,” Liam said.
“The place is an institution,” Garrett added.
“Slice of Heaven?” Darcy asked. “I can’t imagine Bitter Bark without it.”
“Better Bark,” Chloe corrected with a sideways smile aimed at her sister-in-law. “But I know Slice has a no-dogs-allowed policy. Any chance that might change?”
Beck shook her head. “My aunt’s not a dog person.”
Aidan snorted softly. “Understatement alert.”
“Not everyone is,” Dr. K added.
“Plus Ricardo’s down the street is all about the dogs and they have a wait every night,” Shane added. “Chloe and I eat there all the time because Ruby is treated like a queen.”
“It’s a little more than that.” Beck set her fork down with a sigh, unwilling to let Aunt Sarah’s decision not to let dogs in the restaurant get blamed for their troubles. “We’re not going to have customers lined up until I get better at making pizza.”
Most of the people around the table chuckled uncomfortably or frowned in sympathy, but Aidan turned and looked right into her eyes. “Maybe you need lessons. I’m happy to help.”
For some reason she didn’t know, like, or trust, her heart kicked into double time at the way he said that. Like lessons wasn’t all he was suggesting.
“Aidan’s pizza is amazing,” Darcy chimed in.
“So good,” Andi agreed. “Since he’s come home, I’ve craved it every day.”
“And oranges, Mommy,” Christian chimed in. “Remember how you made Liam get you oranges the other morning when we were all still in pajamas?”
Andi laughed at her cravings and her cute son, along with the others, but Aidan leaned closer to Beck, adding gentle pressure with his substantial shoulder. “I’m serious,” he said under his breath.
“Well, thank you, but I know you have work to do here.”
“Actually, he’s not that busy right now,” Dr. K said. “Liam slowed the new K-9 unit training classes until after the baby, and that’s where Aidan’s been needed the most.”
“So I’m free to teach and train,” Aidan said. “And you do know that the testimony about my pizza skills is real, since I already worked a whole afternoon with you.”
“You did?” The question came from several surprised people at the table, including Dr. K.
“I didn’t know that,” Aidan’s father added. “Then you already know that he can help you out of this bind. And we’ll do our part to spread the word among friends and clients.”
Everyone agreed to do that to help out, but Beck glanced at the man at the head of the table, slightly suspicious of his motives. Wasn’t he the Dogfather? The matchmaker? “Thanks, but I can get through this,” she said. “I’m getting a little better every day.”
“But you only need some basic lessons,” Aidan said. “And if the business starts to boom thanks to my family doing a little word of mouth assistance, I’ll be there to help fill the orders while you learn. It’s a good solution, Beck.”
She held his gaze for a moment, considering the offer. Fill orders. Teach her to make pizza. Or worm his way so deeply into Ruff’s heart that she didn’t stand a chance with the dog? Or was it her heart he was worming into? Based on the way those blue eyes were holding hers, she wasn’t sure.
“I can help you at least until your uncle is back on his feet,” he offered, so magnanimously that if she said no, she’d look like she was s
cared. Which she was.
No one said anything for a moment, and she felt every eye on her.
“Oh, would you look at this.” Gramma Finnie held up her phone, pulling all attention to the other side of the table. “You got a five-star review on Yelp. Pru just found it. Posted on Thursday. Was that the day you were making the pizzas, Aidan?”
Yes, of course it was, Beck thought. Were they all in on this?
“Let me see.” Aidan reached over and took his grandmother’s phone, angling it so Beck could see. “Look at that. One of the travel agents raved. Huh. What do you know?”
What she knew was that not taking his offer was crazy…but taking it was dangerous. And she had the faintest feeling she was getting steamrolled by Aidan. And his family might be powering the engine.
But she really did need the help. As long as she knew why it was being offered by him.
“That’s very sweet of you, Aidan,” she said with a smile. “And so nice because you’ll get to see Ruff every single day.” Which was probably his plan.
“And you,” he said very quietly, under his breath.
Oh boy. Was that what he thought was going to happen? He’d make her fall so hard for him she gave him the dog out of…lust? Did he really think she was that weak?
“Aidan,” she said, “maybe we both can learn a few lessons.”
He lifted a brow. “Maybe we can.”
All around the table, the silence lasted one beat too long.
“So who’s up for a Mario Kart tournament during dessert?” Garrett suddenly asked, breaking the awkward moment.
The response was instant from all corners of the table, except for Aidan, who put his hand on her back.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d rather take Ruff on a long walk,” Aidan said to her. “Come with us?”
She should say no. She should clean up or play Mario Kart or go home. But first, Beck had to make sure Aidan Kilcannon knew that she was on to him. “I’d love to.”
Chapter Nine
“I’d pronounce him cured of whatever ailed him,” Aidan said as they walked toward the creek a good twenty feet behind Ruff, who bounded with joy over the trail that cut through the heart of Waterford Farm.
“He’s sure better than he was a few hours ago,” Beck agreed, her gaze on the dog ahead of them. “It’s like he’s a different dog.”
“I know the feeling.” He blew out a breath and lifted his face to the late afternoon sun peeking through the branches of the hickory and oak trees that lined the trail. In fact, if she hadn’t been here, he might have bounded like Ruff, barked for joy, and thrown himself into the creek at the end of it all to celebrate his small success. He’d been thinking about going in to help her for a few days, but he didn’t want to seem so incredibly obvious.
This had happened so naturally, he couldn’t be accused of stalking Ruff or trying to finagle his way into the dog’s new life. It was perfect, really.
“Are you a different dog?” Beck asked after they walked for a few seconds in silence.
“Let’s just say I know how Ruff feels having been transported to somewhere strange and trying to adjust.” Although his talk with Darcy had left a mark and given him much to consider.
“Are you trying to guilt me into giving Ruff back?” she asked. “Because it won’t work. Or are you trying to tell me something about yourself?”
He slowed his step, looking down at her for the hundredth time that day, because he never actually got tired of doing that. “I’m not trying to guilt you into anything.”
“Then why do you suddenly want to be the pizza teacher and backup cook at Slice of Heaven?”
“Look, keeping it real? I do have ulterior motives, but if you think I’m trying to work out some kind of exchange of pizza techniques to get my dog back, you couldn’t be further from the truth. You have my word.”
Her look said exactly what she thought of his word, which stung, but he let it go.
“So, what are these ulterior motives if you’re not trying to take ‘your’ dog back?”
“Whoops. Force of habit, sorry.”
She tipped her head with silent forgiveness, but was still waiting for an answer. He took a few more steps, thinking about his motives and how much to share. Enough so that she believed he was genuine and Ruff wasn’t the only reason he’d suggested the arrangement.
“I’ve been trying to…don’t laugh now…find myself.”
She didn’t laugh, which he appreciated, but studied him for a moment. “I didn’t know you were lost.”
He shrugged. “I’m like Ruff. Having a hard time adjusting to this place.”
“Yeah, ’cause Waterford Farm is sheer hell. What with all the big happy family, adorable dogs, inside jokes, and a precious porch-wrapped farmhouse filled with love and laughter. Who’d want to be here?”
“That’s the outsider’s view,” he said.
“Because the outsider doesn’t see the world’s cutest grandmother who blogs and the three newlywed older brothers on the inside?” She gave him a gentle elbow in the ribs. “You live in a Norman Rockwell painting, big guy. Dogs included.”
He heard a whisper of pain in her voice, and it hit him somewhere deep. Somewhere relatable. “I know that,” he said. “You should also know that the person who made that family, who started fostering precious dogs, who encouraged those inside jokes, and who filled that yellow house with love and laughter is MIA in a big way.”
She was quiet for a long time, the only sounds Ruff’s occasional bark and their footsteps on the path.
“Do you mean because she’s passed away, or because they don’t, you know, have her portrait over the dining table?” she asked. “Because that might bring down the festive family mood your father obviously works very hard to maintain.”
He swallowed. “It’s like they prefer to act like she was never there.”
“Aidan.” She drew back and frowned at him. “They do not. I heard your mother’s name mentioned, but not in sorrow. They don’t wallow in grief. There’s a big difference between living your life with loss and wailing with helpless misery all the time. And don’t forget, you’re talking to a person who’s lost…all of them.”
Good God, he had forgotten. What a jerk. He put his arm on her back, adding pressure. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she assured him.
He waited a moment, guiding her to follow Ruff to the creek. “But I am out of sorts, Beck, and working with you at Slice appeals to me. So, if that’s the ‘ulterior’ motive you are looking for, there it is.”
She didn’t respond to that, looking around slowly at the picturesque creek, babbling over stones and rocks, bathed in a mix of sunshine and shadows, the edge of this forest thick with a hundred shades of green.
“And Norman Rockwell morphs into Thomas Kinkade,” she said softly.
He laughed at that. “Yeah, this is definitely one of my favorite places on the whole hundred acres.”
Ruff was halfway in the water when they reached him, soaked up to his belly and drinking from the cold spring.
“For good reason,” she whispered, still looking around in awe.
“I used to come here when I was a kid.” He led her to a large flat rock that was worn and warm and incredibly familiar to him. “Just me and my little Doxie.”
“Your dog was a dachshund?” she guessed.
“Yes, and I named her Doxie because I lacked originality.”
“Please, I named a dog Ruff.”
He laughed again. “True. Well, Doxie was a foster, but we kept her because my mother was the original Foster Failure. She’d keep the dogs, every time, and then we’d each get one of them sort of ‘assigned’ to us to be sure they were clean, fed, exercised, and such. I got Doxie, and she was with me for years.” He shook his head, remembering her pointed nose and tiny legs and how she’d sleep right on his pillow, curled into a circle, staring at him until he’d wake up. “And, you know, being the youngest brother has its challenges,
so I’d bring her here.”
“Why?”
He gave in to a smile. “Because when I wanted to cry about something, Liam and Shane and Garrett gave me crap. They’d tell me to buck up and be a man. They’d say, ‘Kilcannon men don’t cry.’ And I’d have to swallow it all and man up. When life didn’t go my way, I brought Doxie down here and bawled like a baby where no one would see me.”
“Aww.” She pressed her hand to her chest as if the admission touched her heart. “I can’t imagine you crying, Aidan.”
He shrugged. “I did, some. Right here at my crying creek with my wiener dog.”
That made her laugh softly. “And you always had a family setter, right?” she asked, getting comfortable on the stone next to him. “Your grandmother told me she and her husband had one with them when they came from Ireland and that there’s always been a setter in the house.”
“I was in the shower, what? Ten minutes? And she got that story in?” He chuckled. “Gramma Finnie is a piece of work, man.”
“She is special.” She put her hand on his arm, her fingers as warm as the rock they settled on, facing the water. “They all are, Aidan.”
“I know.” He picked up a stone and tossed it toward the creek, waiting for the splash before he continued. “I’m not saying they’re not the greatest family, but…” He hesitated, rooting for the right words.
He didn’t have to dig too deep. After the conversation with Darcy and the long family dinner, all the feelings were right under the surface. “I’ve been gone for ten years, Beck. And after my mother died, they—all of them, without me—built this…this place. I don’t have any skin in this game.”
“You have a name in this game. And this place is really incredible.”
“But it’s not a home anymore.”
“You don’t live here, do you? Your grandmother said only she and your dad and Darcy still live there.”
“I’m renting a house Shane and Garrett bought and shared before they got married and moved in with their wives. But I’m working here, and I’ll be honest, I’m not loving it. Not yet.” He had a snowball’s chance of fitting in and finding a home here with Ruff. But now? His sister’s words came back to him.
Ruff Around the Edges Page 9
