Ruff Around the Edges

by Roxanne St Claire

  You have to find your place here…

  “I haven’t found how, or if, I belong here. I miss flying. I miss having a purpose. I miss”—my mother—“the way things used to be.”

  “So you want to make pizza and figure it out?”

  He glanced at her and smiled. “I want to help you make pizza and figure it out.”

  She lifted her chin and looked at him, probably unaware that at that very moment, he could see the resemblance to her brother as strongly as ever. It was something in the color of her eyes. More than the color. The spark. In Charlie, it had been fun and warm and a precursor to something that would make Aidan crack up.

  In her, it was pretty and feminine and a precursor to something that made him want to find out what it would feel like to kiss her. A lot. Often. And for a really long time.

  “What’s the other one?” she asked.

  Frowning, yanked from his fantasy, he shook his head. “Other what?”

  “Ulterior motive. You said ‘motives,’ as if there’s more than one.”

  “Isn’t that one enough? I just bared my soul.”

  She shrugged as if unimpressed with his bare soul. “I want to know them all. Why would you offer to come to Slice of Heaven, teach me how to make pizza, and work there when we need help?” When he didn’t answer right away, she leaned her whole shoulder into him. “I knew it. I knew it.”

  “Knew what?”

  “You think you can…” She looked away as she searched for the words, her gaze drifting to Ruff, who was still splashing around in the shallow water and having the time of his life. “Con me.”

  “Con you?” He snorted. “What about me has said ‘con artist’ to you? Was it when I was fully honest about Ruff being home? When I brought him to you because you have a claim on a dog I believed was mine? When I helped you out of a lunch rush, or offered to watch him at any time, or was nice to your aunt, who’d rather I disappeared forever and acts like Ruff is about to eat her for lunch? Which one was the con?”

  With each beat in his speech, he saw her expression change until she lost the hardness and distrust in the angle of her jaw. “I know, you’re right. But you don’t ever give up until you get what you want. I know that, and it’s daunting.”

  He wanted to argue, but couldn’t lie. “Look, do I still want Ruff? Hell yeah. But if that happens, it would have to be organic and natural. No, I don’t give up easily, if ever, but I’m also not going to be a jerk about it. And whether you understand it or not, I want a break from this place. Right now, I need it.”

  “You’re not going to infiltrate and try to make him love you more than me? Although,” she added with a dry laugh, “not sure how he could love me any less.”

  “He misses me, and it’ll be good to transition him from me to you,” he told her. “It’s really better for him. For all of us. I promise I’ll help you win him over.”

  She gave him a dubious look. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I loved your brother and want to respect his very specific wishes.”

  “As I do,” she shot back. “And I have the—”

  “Letter, I know.” He put his hands on her shoulders, momentarily surprised by the small but taut muscles he felt as he turned her to face him. “Listen to me, Rebecca Spencer.”

  She blinked at the use of her full name, but didn’t look away.

  “Can you fathom that I might actually want to help you? That I care about the family of my best friend and the pizza parlor he wanted to own and run, and that I do not want to see it sold, folded, or out of business? I also care about the well-being of his dog, no matter who he calls master or mistress.” He added some pressure to his touch, wanting so much for her to believe him, because this was the absolute truth. “I owe that to Charlie, too, you know,” he added. “I owe him genuine care for the dog he adored, the business he wanted to inherit, and the family he loved.”

  She searched his face, her eyes moving back and forth, and he could see she was weighing her opinion of him and trying to decide if he was a risk worth taking.

  “Okay,” she finally agreed. “So it’s a few pizza lessons to help me learn and working some shifts to start to build a customer base again. That’s all it is?”

  “That’s all it is.” But he could still see the doubt lingering in her eyes, and he leaned closer. “What are you afraid I’ll do?” he asked softly.

  Her lower lip slipped under her top teeth. “I’m not sure.”

  The sudden increase in his heart rate surprised him, along with a low, slow heat in his belly and the need to get even closer to her. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “It’s not you hurting me that scares me,” she said, her voice reedy as if her throat was suddenly as bone-dry as his.

  “What scares you?”

  She didn’t answer, taking a deep breath, letting her gaze drop from his eyes to his mouth, linger for a moment, then slide back up again. “I’m not afraid. I’m…” Her eyes shuttered for a second. “I feel things.”

  He gave in to an easy smile, enjoying every second of this unexpected intimacy. “Things? What kind of things?”

  “The kind of things that derail plans and complicate life and make even the strongest woman change her mind.”

  “Oh.” The smile gave way to a chuckle. “Those kind of things. Yeah. I feel them. I’d have to be dead not to.” He leaned closer. “You’re beautiful, funny, and now you own my dog. But I’m pretty sure Charlie would send the hounds of hell after me if I made a move.”

  She lifted one brow. “He’s not in hell, Aidan.”

  “That’s for sure.” He added a squeeze to her shoulders. “But you don’t have to worry. I’m not after your heart.”

  “Promise? Because it’s…closed for business.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Too much loss,” she explained. “I can’t risk any more. So, promise me you won’t…” She couldn’t finish, and all that made him do was inch closer to find out what he wasn’t supposed to do.

  But she stayed silent, and he knew that, as much as he ached to close the space and kiss her, that would be her tipping point. One mistake, and he wouldn’t get his escape, or to be with Ruff, or get to know her even better.

  And he wanted all those things more than he wanted to kiss her. Which was a lot. So he held her gaze and said the words he knew his best friend would hold him to in this life and beyond.

  “You have my word, Beck.”

  Chapter Ten

  Beck woke Monday morning with the first glimmer of real hope for Slice of Heaven since she’d arrived two months earlier. She got up early and took Ruff on a long walk around Bushrod Square to tire him out, knowing he’d be cooped up in the apartment most of the day.

  Exhausting him with exercise was key, she’d learned yesterday. And all of the Kilcannons had given her tips and tricks for training, though they all agreed Ruff didn’t respond well to treats. He loved Aidan, that much was clear, and the visit seemed to have done him some good.

  Although, he’d still paced the apartment last night, looking out the window as if he longed for another life.

  Maybe he’d like Chicago, Beck thought as she dressed for the day. If she ever got back there. With Aidan coming to teach her how to make better pizza, maybe they’d build up the business while Uncle Mike got better and then she could go home.

  It was a slow process, but what other option did she have? It might mean staying the better part of the summer, but by fall, she could be back in Chicago, knowing she’d done everything to help the two family members she had left.

  Thinking of Mike, she made a silent vow to visit him that afternoon. She’d missed him since he’d had that stroke. The doctors said over and over again that it was mild, that he was lucky, that he could be back to normal in a few months, but he had to want to be back to normal. And he didn’t want anything.

  Just like Ruff didn’t want the kiss she planted on his forehead before going down to the kitchen to break the news to
Sarah about Aidan.

  “Oh, well,” she said with a sigh of resignation. “You’ll love me eventually, Ruff. Little Miss Sunshine says it will be so.”

  Downstairs, Beck pushed open the kitchen door and all that hope, optimism, and clear thinking disappeared at the sight of Aidan working the commercial stand mixer. It was replaced by something more…primal.

  The same thing that kept her awake and knotted up last night as she replayed the conversation by the creek and tried to reconcile how much she’d wanted him to kiss her. But he hadn’t. And that was good.

  Right?

  Wrong. Look at him. He wore a simple white T-shirt under a Slice of Heaven apron, his features set with the calm concentration that she imagined he’d wear when flying Black Hawks into war zones. Steady, strong, working the mixer like it was a toy, not a massive, cranky, old piece of crap that almost chewed off her hand twice.

  He handled it with the same confidence she had with a camera and a baby.

  And there went all the stuff that made her a woman, churning into an achy lust that tightened things that hadn’t been tight for a long time and set off little fireworks in her chest. It was natural, this attraction to a man who not only looked good enough to eat, but was actually making pizza that was good enough to eat.

  It was normal to—

  The dining room door thwacked open and damn near hit her in the face.

  “Oh!” Beck jumped back as Aunt Sarah bounded in, a tray of condiments in her hands that she nearly dropped. “Sorry.”

  “Oh, Rebecca. There you are. Can we talk?” She angled her head in the direction of the dining room. “Now.”

  Beck glanced at Aidan, who’d watched the exchange, but hadn’t missed a beat with the mixing blades, turning the bowl with ease and finesse.

  “Thought I’d get started on a batch of dough for tomorrow,” he said, lowering the speed on the mixer to talk over the sound. “And I can’t get the oven to turn on, which will be a problem.”

  “You need to set it to almost 650, but don’t let the dial actually hit 650. Stop at the red line we marked in Sharpie. It’s actually 647.”

  He lifted both brows. “Seriously? What happens at 650?”

  “It complains by turning itself off. I’ll get it going if you gimme a sec.” She slipped into the dining room, followed by her aunt, who set the tray on one of the tables with enough force to jostle the salt and pepper shakers.

  “He’s working here?” she asked.

  “Not until he learns how to turn on the oven.”

  “Rebecca.”

  “He’s only come in to help me learn how to make great pizza, Aunt Sarah. And that means we’ll have great product for a while. Isn’t that—”

  “Why?”

  Beck blinked at her, the force of the question throwing her. “I know you have out-of-date accounting systems, but the numbers are bad whether you’ve done them on a computer or by hand. You know that. We have to increase business.”

  Sarah crossed her arms, tightening them protectively. “We don’t have to do anything that drastic.”

  “Maybe we have different definitions of drastic,” Beck replied. “I’m trying to learn how to make pizza that actually doesn’t taste like my favorite handbag slathered in ketchup. He knows and has offered to help.”

  “Can’t you find someone else?”

  “For the whopping sum of zero dollars? No.”

  Sarah shut her eyes, fighting frustration. “Someone who’s not a constant reminder of Charlie.”

  Beck’s shoulders fell. “Honest, Aunt Sarah, he doesn’t remind me of Charlie. He’s very different and his own man. And I think being here might be helping his own grief. Have you ever thought of that?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I can’t think beyond this store and my husband.” She glanced around the undersized room, her gaze skimming the half-dozen chipped Formica tables and the counter where orders were placed and filled. Finally, she focused on the wall of awards, the twenty-four brass plates almost covering the seafoam-green mistake. “He wouldn’t even get out of bed this morning.”

  “All the more reason to bring business to this place,” Beck said. “That will give Uncle Mike the incentive to come back to work.”

  Her lips turned down. “Honey, I don’t think he’s ever going to come back.”

  “Please don’t have a defeatist attitude,” Beck pleaded. “I know from experience that there’s nothing to gain from that. He needs to see you’re certain this is temporary and that we’re doing everything possible to keep his business healthy while he heals.”

  But Sarah’s whole face strained at that impossibility, her eyes darkening to a deep green. “It’s hard to be optimistic when you’re married to someone who gives up hope. And…” She glanced toward the kitchen. “I can’t help it. He lived and Charlie died. In the same helicopter. I know my feelings are wrong, but they’re real.”

  “Of course they are.” Beck put a hand on Sarah’s shoulder, acknowledging the confession. “But he’s an old family friend who loved Charlie, too. And the man can make amazing pizza, which is a lot more than you or I can do.”

  A smile, the first one in ages, flickered over Sarah’s lips. “We sure could use some amazing pizza around here.”

  Beck instantly reached out to hug her. “You can’t give up hope,” she said. “Uncle Mike can’t sense that you’ve given up, either. He needs to know we’re here fighting for his business every day. That will give him the will to live again.”

  She sighed as if she didn’t buy a word of Beck’s optimism.

  “Let Aidan stay, and be kind to him, Sarah. He’s hurting, too.”

  She nodded slowly. “You have a good heart, Rebecca. So much like your mother.”

  Warmed by the compliment, she gave her aunt another hug. “Why don’t we both go see Uncle Mike after lunch and tell him how Aidan is helping? Really let him know we’re holding this place together for him.”

  “I’m going to meet with a physical therapist to see if there’s some way they’d come to the house,” Sarah said. “It’s really expensive, but I’m pleading our case. She agreed to do a conference call with the insurance company, so I can’t miss it. It’s a great day for you to visit him, though, since I’ll be gone for a few hours.”

  “Then I’m definitely going,” Beck said. “Can I take Ruff? Uncle Mike likes dogs, Aunt Sarah.”

  Her face crumpled like she was about to cry. “And I’ve denied him a dog all these years, and now he’s going to—”

  “Shhh.” Beck gave another squeeze. “He is not going to do anything but get physical therapy, recover, and come back here to make pizza. You understand?”

  Sarah patted her cheek. “I want to believe that. And yes, you can take the dog.”

  “Thank you.” She slid her arm around Sarah and led her toward the door. “Now let’s go be nice to the man who’s going to save this business.”

  She eased out of Beck’s touch. “Let me do the condiments first. And you can work closely with him.”

  “I think it’ll be fun.”

  Sarah eyed her, making Beck think that response might have been a little too positive. She lifted her brows. “He did get even more handsome, didn’t he, Rebecca?”

  “Yeah, I guess, I mean…I never noticed.”

  Sarah smiled. “That’s what I used to say about Uncle Mike. Then he made me pizza, and I was a goner.”

  Beck managed a shrug. “Well, no chance of that happening, then, since I don’t eat pizza.”

  When she went back into the kitchen, she heard Sarah snickering, an actual chuckle that could soon be a laugh.

  And as much as Beck wanted to disavow her of any ideas about Aidan, she sure as heck didn’t want to put a stop to a sound she hadn’t heard in two months.

  * * *

  Beck lifted the dough and held it between Aidan’s face and her own, making a squeaking sound of joy. “Windowpane!” she announced, inching her head to the side to look him in the eyes. “We did it!�
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  “You did it,” he corrected, gently taking the dough from her hands. “Ready to shape it?”

  She considered the request, then puffed out a breath, feathering the bangs that covered her forehead. “Can we work on that before dinner?” she asked, glancing at the clock. “I have an errand to run.”

  An errand? Aidan tried not to let his disappointment show. “Don’t you work all afternoon?” He was fully prepared to spend the day here. Was looking forward to it, in fact.

  “Sometimes, but I wanted to go see my uncle Mike today. I’m taking Ruff with me.”

  “To your aunt’s house?”

  “She gave her blessing, and I think my uncle needs company.”

  He turned his attention to the dough, flipping and rolling it back into a ball. “I could go with you,” he suggested, glancing at her to gauge her reaction, surprised at how much he wanted her to say yes.

  But Beck was looking at the doughball in horror. “What are you doing? That was my first and only windowpane.”

  He laughed. “There’ll be more. But we can’t store it like that.” He tugged at the dough, testing it. “It’ll lose all the elasticity by dinner.”

  “How do you know?”

  He shrugged. “Intuition.”

  “I’m afraid that’s like strong hands,” she said, reaching back to untie her apron. “Something I’ll never have.”

  “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

  “Pffft. I finally made a windowpane.” Still struggling with the knot in the back, she looked up at him. “Would you really like to see Uncle Mike?”

  “Oh yeah. I always liked him, and your aunt wouldn’t let me see him when I went to their house.”

  She nodded slowly, coming around to the idea. “I think it’s a great plan. It can only help him to see more people. And a dog. And…” She made a face. “I can’t get this.”

  Without a word, he put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around so he could work on the knot. She’d pulled it hard, and he couldn’t get his big fingers into the knot, forcing him to lean closer to see it. And get a whiff of something that smelled more like flowers than tomato sauce in her thick ponytail.