Bad to the Bone
The Dogfather
Book Five
Roxanne St. Claire
Bad to the Bone
THE DOGFATHER BOOK FIVE
Copyright © 2018 South Street Publishing
This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
All rights to reproduction of this work are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission from the copyright owner. Thank you for respecting the copyright. For permission or information on foreign, audio, or other rights, contact the author, [email protected]
ISBN: 978-0-9981093-7-4
COVER ART: Keri Knutson (designer) and Dawn C. Whitty (photographer)
INTERIOR FORMATTING: Author E.M.S.
Table of Contents
BAD TO THE BONE
Copyright
Dedication
Dear Reader
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Fall in love with The Dogfather Series
About the Author
THE BAREFOOT BAY SERIES
Dedication
For Roxy, one of the sweetest puppers I’ve ever known and loved, and not just because of her cute name. A friend to my own dogs, Roxy had a spirit and a smile I’ll never forget, and she is missed every day when we take our walks. (And much love to her owner, Chris Schumacher, who has a heart for doggies and is a true friend and great neighbor.)
Dear Reader:
Welcome back to the foothills of North Carolina where the Dogfather, Daniel Kilcannon, is once again pulling some strings to help one of his six grown children find forever love. On these pages, you’ll find my favorite things in life and fiction: big families, great dogs, and lasting love. And, I am delighted to inform you that a portion of the first month sales of all the books in this series is being donated to Alaqua Animal Refuge (www.alaqua.org) in my home state of Florida. That’s where these covers were shot by photographer Dawn Whitty (www.dawncwhitty.com) using real men (not models, but they are gorgeous!) and rescue dogs (now in forever homes!). So you don’t only buy a terrific book…you support a fantastic cause!
I couldn’t publish a book without help. In this one, I had massive support from Dr. Linda Hankins, a talented veterinarian and one of my favorite readers. Also major thanks to my content editor, Kristi Yanta, who clears the obstacles I create for myself; copyeditor Joyce Lamb, who is truly without equal in this business; proofreaders Marlene Engel and Chris Kridler, who have eagle eyes and unparalleled comma skills; and cover designer Keri Knutson, who helped bring Trace and Meatball to life on this book. Again, props to photographer Dawn C. Whitty who captured a moment so beautifully, I had to write a scene for it. My love and gratitude to all of them, and my family, writing pals, and the doggos who snore (loudly) at my feet while I write.
I hope you love the Kilcannon clan! Don’t miss a single book in The Dogfather Series:
Available now
Sit…Stay…Beg (Book 1)
New Leash on Life (Book 2)
Leader of the Pack (Book 3)
Santa Paws Is Coming to Town (Book 4 – A Holiday Novella)
Bad to the Bone (Book 5)
Coming soon
Ruff Around the Edges (Book 6)
Double Dog Dare (Book 7)
Old Dog New Tricks (Book 8)
And yes, there will be more. For a complete list, buy links, and reading order of all my books, visit www.roxannestclaire.com. Be sure to sign up for my newsletter to find out when the next book is released! And join the private Dogfather Facebook group at https://www.facebook.com/groups/roxannestclairereaders/ for inside info on all the books and characters, sneak peeks, and a place to share the love of tails and tales!
Chapter One
November, 2003
Molly gripped the steering wheel of the seven-year-old Plymouth Voyager she’d managed to parallel park, trying to channel some of the Kilcannon magic that her whole family seemed to possess. She sucked in a deep breath, but that only filled her lungs with the lingering scent of baby powder and vanilla, the signature fragrance her mother sprayed in the minivan to combat the scent of the dogs she carted to and from shelters and new homes. And that simply made Molly realize how far short she fell in her desire to be exactly like spectacular, serene, sweet-smelling Annie Kilcannon.
Mom had encouraged her to come to this party tonight. She was sure that Molly’s mood would improve by seeing her old high school friends. Well, yes, if Molly were like her older brothers, a party would be just the ticket. If she had Shane’s swagger or Garrett’s good looks or Liam’s classy cool. But she had none of those gifts and wasn’t even sure why she’d been invited to a gathering of former high school friends during their first Thanksgiving break since graduation.
Closing her eyes, she dropped her head on the steering wheel and felt the weight of her unfashionably curly hair over her face, covering this morning’s new arrival of two lovely zits on her forehead.
Oh God, why wasn’t she as fine and flawless as the rest of her family?
That’s right. Molly “got the brains”—which made her a nerd stuck in the dead middle of Kilcannon perfection. Even her two younger siblings fit the mold, with Aidan’s golden-boy charm and Darcy’s stunning beauty.
That left Molly, middle child, odd man out, not…amazing. Yes, she had the supersmarts and was going to be a vet like her father, but on nights like this, when the home of one of the popular, pretty girls from her high school class was packed for a party? Amazing would be nice. Sure, these kids all stayed home and went to Vestal Valley College while Molly had gotten into UNC-Chapel Hill. But sometimes, tonight for instance, she’d give up an IQ point or six for some gorgeous skin, straight hair, and one of those Cover Girl smiles.
She peered into the darkness, noticing that Kaylie’s mom had already put some Christmas lights on the bushes, sparkling like stars around the two-story house on the outskirts of Bitter Bark. She knew Kaylie’s neighborhood well, having spent plenty of time here after Jessie had moved away to Minnesota. Girls like Kaylie and her crowd had been fun to hang with, especially after her best friend left, but Molly suspected they were more interested in the three older Kilcannon boys than Molly herself.
So, why wasn’t she excited about this invitation?
Because she didn’t feel the least bit pretty? What nineteen-year-old girl wanted to walk into a party alone when she felt unattractive and unappealing and un—?
“Hey! Molly Kilcannon!” She almost jumped out of her skin at the loud slam of a palm on her window and the high-pitched screech. “I’d know that doggie van anywhere!”
Yanking out of her thoughts, Molly eyed the girl on the other side of a slightly fogged window, recognizing Isabella Henderson immediately.
&nbs
p; “Dizzie Izzie!” She rolled the window down, getting blasted by unusually cold November air and the impact of Isabella’s cascades of blond hair and skin that looked like it was poured out of a bottle of heavy cream. She even wore the silly nickname Molly had given her like a jaunty cap, with style and pride.
“Where have you been all winter break?” Izzie asked, her long lashes nearly touching her perfectly arched brows as she widened her eyes. “We’ve been drinking at Bushrod’s every night and haven’t seen you.”
Bushrod’s? “I can’t go drink in a bar yet,” she said. And neither could they.
“Kaylie and I have fakes,” she explained, no doubt reading Molly’s expression.
“And you think Mr. Duncan doesn’t know you graduated from Bitter Bark High six months ago?”
She gave a classic Dizzie Izzie shrug. “He serves all the college kids, and our parents don’t care that we drink.”
Molly was raised on sips of Jameson’s, and getting wasted with crazed freshmen held zero appeal for a chemistry major at a tough university. Kaylie and Izzie hadn’t even decided what their majors would be, but they’d made it to college, so it was time to party hard. Meanwhile, Molly was acing Chem 2 and had her whole life planned down to the color of scrubs she’d wear on her first day at work for the Kilcannon Veterinarian Hospital.
“God, you look great, Molly,” she said, gesturing toward Molly’s face with a mittened hand.
Immediately, Molly shook her head to argue. “Please, I’m a wreck.”
“I love your hair all wild like that.”
Was she serious? She’d tried to straighten it into submission, but ten minutes in the snowfall and it was nothing but curls again. “No, it’s a mess,” she said, shaking off the compliment.
Izzie dipped down to look into the van. “You alone?”
“Yeah.”
She seemed vaguely disappointed, but gestured with her mitten. “Well, come on. You going in, or you want to sit here all night and freeze?”
Sitting there sounded like a good option. “I’m not going to stay long,” she said. “I just wanted to say hi to Kaylie.”
“You might change your mind,” Izzie said in a singsong warning. “Kaylie said there’s a ton of her brother’s friends here. Speaking of brothers, is Shane home for Thanksgiving week?”
Oh, that’s who she was looking for. “He’s on a date tonight,” Molly said.
“There’s some lucky girl. How about Garrett?”
Yep. She’d been invited in the hopes that a Kilcannon boy would come along. “He and Liam had somewhere to go.”
“Oh, too bad.”
Wasn’t it, though? On a sigh, Molly grabbed her keys and pushed open the door. At least she had someone to walk in with now, and someone who virtually guaranteed no one would notice her.
Their boots crunched in the half inch of fresh snow as Molly and Izzie navigated the sidewalk and turned into the driveway. The notes of a familiar Dierks Bentley country song blared from the house.
“What was I thinkin’?” Izzie sang, shimmying in a little dance and playing air guitar.
“What was I thinkin’?” A male voice stopped them both, coming from the shadow of Kaylie’s front lawn. “Letting Molly Kilcannon slip through my hands in high school.”
She recognized the voice almost immediately. Low, rich, and insanely sexy, that voice was capable of so much more than talking. A voice that caused shivers, quivers, and plenty of panties to fall with happy sighs from girls who lusted after Bitter Bark’s homegrown bad boy. Not Molly’s panties, of course, but she’d certainly had a few fantasies.
“Trace Bancroft!” Izzie moved toward the shadow. “I heard you were making an appearance tonight.”
“Hey.” Stepping out of a dark area, Trace moved into the soft white of Christmas lights strung on a bush, eyes the color of the night sky locked on Molly so intently that his bottlebrush-thick lashes nearly touched. His hair was still black and long, his jaw always set at a defiant angle, his mouth…oh Lord above. That was a mouth. A bad, bad mouth that said bad things and could probably do even badder things.
Molly’s stomach sailed into her throat like she’d been thrown down a roller coaster without a seat belt at the sight of him. Under her jacket, an unholy heat curled through her, warming her from the inside out.
“I heard you went to Chapel Hill,” he said, adjusting his leather jacket on his shoulders like it might be too tight for how broad they were underneath. He nudged her. “Always knew my chemistry tutor was Miss Smarty-Pants.”
She swallowed, and nodded, not trusting her voice and not willing to sound the least bit excited that he’d bothered to find out where she’d gone to college. All she knew about him was that he’d managed to get into a vocational program at Vestal Valley and still lived at home with his mother, Bitter Bark’s one and only astrologist.
“You coming in, Trace?” Izzie had flipped off her mittens and put her bare hand on Trace’s shoulder, drawing Molly’s gaze to the size of him, making her wonder if he had even more tattoos than he had in high school. She’d seen a few in the library, when he’d flirt with her and she’d tried to teach him in chemistry for community service hours. There’d been plenty of chemistry, but not the kind he needed to pass the class.
When he didn’t answer, Izzie inched closer. “We’re shotgunning tonight.”
He barely glanced at her, as if the idea of poking a hole in the side of a beer can to suck it down faster sounded as stupid as it was.
“I might.” The two words were spoken directly to Molly and as much an invitation as if he’d said her name. “Not a big party guy,” he added.
“Me neither,” Molly said, unable to look away from the magnetic grip of his gaze.
Izzie glanced from one to the other, her eyes narrowing imperceptibly. “Come in with us, Trace,” she said, cozying up to him. “I’m freezing and need a big strong guy to hold on to.”
He barely reacted, his attention on Molly. “Or you can hang out here and teach me some chemistry, Irish.”
The old nickname and the invitation nearly took Molly’s breath away, but Izzie bristled and stepped back. “Irish?”
Molly gave a self-conscious laugh.
“Cute,” Izzie added in a tone that said she thought it was anything but cute. “Well, I’m going in. You two can stand out here and play doctor for all I care, but I want to party.”
“Bye,” Trace said, completely without humor, irony, or interest.
Molly glanced at her friend. “I’ll come—”
Trace reached his hand out. “Stay.”
Izzie raised one of those perfectly arched brows with the slightest air of defeat. “See ya. Irish.”
When she left, Molly stuck her hands deeper in her jacket pockets and turned to Trace Bancroft, the most off-limits guy in the town, who was looking at her like he had no limits. Didn’t know the meaning of limits, in fact, and was born to break every one.
And it made Molly feel sexy and beautiful and daring.
He inched closer, still silent. He smelled a little like the woods, like snow, and maybe beer, but his eyes were clear and pinned on her. The effect was dizzying.
“So,” he said after a minute, a whisper of a smile curling that magnificent mouth.
“So.”
“Long time no tutoring.”
She laughed softly. “Yeah, long time. I’m a chem major, though.” God, why did she add that? It sounded so nerdy.
“You always were combustible.”
“Look at you, knowing your vocab. Glad you remembered something from all those sessions.”
“I remembered you.” He reached up and touched her cheek, making her flinch because his finger was hot. And she didn’t like to have her not-silky-smooth complexion examined so closely. Except, the way he was looking at her made her completely forget her skin or hair or whatever she’d been so worked up about twenty minutes ago. “And believe it or not, some of that stuff still sticks with me at work now.”
“I’m a welder. An apprentice, actually, at McQueen’s Machine Shop. Every once in a while, I have to think about chemical changes and such when I’m working on something.” He leaned into her. “And then I think about you, my tutor from local royalty.”
Royalty? Oh, yes, now she remembered the many comments he’d lobbed at her during their tutoring sessions. He’d frequently taken the occasional dig at her well-known family name, or commented about the hundred acres of prime property they owned. He’d often referred to her father as Dr. Kilcannon, with too much emphasis on “doctor,” as if she were the daughter of a renowned brain surgeon, not the local vet.
He angled his head toward the darkened lawn. “Take a walk with me, Irish.”
She hesitated, torn between how much she wanted to and how much she shouldn’t.
“It’s cold,” she said, delaying the decision. But he put his arm around her, and he felt so warm and strong, the debate in her head immediately ended. Nestling a little closer, they walked into the shadows of tall trees and thick bushes of the oversized lawn.
She glanced up at him, a little startled to find him staring at her and not ahead. “What?” she asked.
“You got even prettier.”
Bad to the Bone Page 1
