Shelter Me

by Allyson Charles

  “I don’t keep treats in my pocket,” he told the dog. “And besides, that look only works on me if it’s a woman giving it. And then only a certain woman.” But he scratched behind the dog’s silky ear. The warm sun soaked into his shoulders, and the sound of happy dogs turned soothing instead of grating.

  “See? Ain’t this nice?” His dad elbowed him.

  James grunted. It was nice, playing hooky with his dad. He couldn’t remember ever having done it before.

  His dad reached into his left coat pocket and pulled out a threadbare tennis ball. Ginger started running even before the old man tossed it. His face creased into a smile when his dog beat out the golden retriever and snagged the ball on the first bounce.

  “Do you remember Max, our old husky?” his dad asked. “That dog there looks like him.” He nodded to a large, fluffy dog laying on his back in the middle of the park.

  James frowned. They’d had a dog when he was a kid? Wait… “I used to use him as a pillow. I vaguely remember him.” He had been the softest thing a very young James had ever wrapped his arms around.

  His dad chuckled. “You two were inseparable. He’d let you ride him like a horse.”

  The memory rolled through him like a warm wave. The thick fur in his small hands. The excited bark as Max trotted down the hallway, James clinging tightly to his back. Riding into the kitchen to see his mother’s face…

  “Mom didn’t like him.” He also remembered burying his head in Max’s side as his mother yelled at his father about the dog.

  “Max shed a lot. Your mom didn’t like the mess.”

  “She never let me get a dog after you left. Not even the kind that didn’t shed.” That had been the subject of several of their arguments when he’d been a young teen. When he’d become old, and angry, enough to start talking back.

  “Pets aren’t for everyone,” his dad said diplomatically.

  James watched his dad and Ginger play fetch. There had always been so much yelling in their family. Was it any wonder his dad had left? He swallowed. But why couldn’t his dad have taken James with him? Anything would have been better that living with a mother with wild mood swings. Always trying to guess if she was feeling playful or ready to fly into a rage at the smallest noise he made.

  James’s stomach rumbled, and he shook off the disloyal thought. His mom had done the best she could with what she had. “What do you want for dinner? I’ll cook.”

  “You can’t cook worth crap,” his dad said good-naturedly.

  “I’m not that bad. Besides—”

  James let his head fall back on his shoulders as he groaned. “Damn. I haven’t cancelled my plans with Sarah yet.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call her now.”

  “Why the hell would you do that?” His dad cocked his head. “If there’s ever a choice between eating with a pretty girl or with a grizzled old man, you choose the girl.”

  “I want to spend the day with you.” The words felt strange coming from his mouth, but they were true, he realized. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to spend time with his dad.

  It had to be Sarah’s doing. She was a witch, not only entrancing him but trying to get him to appreciate family. “She’ll understand,” he told his dad.

  “You and I see each other all the time. Take your girl to dinner.”

  James grunted.

  “So invite her over.” He patted his thigh and the collie bounded over. “She can check out Ginger while she’s there.”

  Shaking his head, James dialed her number. “If she comes, she’s our guest. She won’t be working.”

  His dad harumphed. As Sarah’s line rang, he leaned down and whispered in Ginger’s ear, “I bet she’ll look at you.”

  James rolled his eyes. He straightened on the bench when she answered. “Hi. Hello. How are you?” If he were alone, he would have smacked himself in the head. What the hell was wrong with him? One amazing night with a woman and he turned into a blithering idiot?

  “I’m good.” Her warm voice melted over him like butter on toast. “I’m looking forward to tonight.”

  “Yeah, about that. Can I change our plans a bit?”

  She sighed dramatically. “If you must. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to cook for my dad—”

  “We’re getting takeout,” his dad yelled into the phone.

  James elbowed him aside. “Or I’ll pick up some food. Come over and join us.”

  “I don’t want to intrude…”

  “You’re not intruding. Bring your dad, too.”

  “Which one?” She sighed.

  “The one who’s squatting in your house and giving your cats emphysema.” A small terrier started dry humping his ankle, and he shook him off, disgusted. “Although Robert is welcome, too.”

  “I don’t think those two need to meet again for a while.” A cacophony of yelps broke out over the phone. She must have covered the receiver because her next words were muffled. She came back on the line. “Sorry about that. Dogs gone wild.”

  He glared at the terrier who sniffed his trousers’ cuff. “Tell me about it. So, are we on? Around six-thirty?”

  “Can I bring anything?” she asked.

  “Just yourself.” He hesitated, wanting to say more, but not quite sure what. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Bye,” she said, her voice husky, and disconnected.

  Immediately, he regretted his invitation. It was going to be hell having dinner with her while two fathers supervised. There would be no hope of getting away to be alone. He frowned. Maybe after his dad fell asleep he could sneak out, meet her… someplace.

  Goddammit. He needed a better solution. While he was here, he wasn’t going to be relegated to sneaking Sarah into his bedroom or having sex in treehouses. It was time to explore Shelter Bay and find a better solution. Sarah deserved better.

  He rubbed his chest. She deserved a relationship that didn’t have an end date. She deserved better than him.

  But James was selfish. He wasn’t willing to give her up. Not yet. While he was in Shelter Bay, he would enjoy Sarah’s company, even if they had to sneak around his dad and her family.

  And when he returned to San Francisco… He pictured his life there. It was organized. Simple.

  Hollow.

  He helped Ginger into the car, made sure his dad was settled.

  When he returned to San Francisco, maybe it didn’t have to end between him and Sarah. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel empty. Sarah filled parts of him he didn’t know needed filling. He didn’t want to lose that.

  Maybe, just maybe, he’d found a relationship worth fighting for.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sarah helped James clear the table. The empty cartons of Thai food went in the trash, making clean-up easy. The tension in her shoulders eased as Harry followed Oswald into the living room to catch the end of a game on TV.

  “I’m telling you,” she hissed at James, “something’s going on with him. He won’t tell me what, but I can tell he’s worried about something.”

  James placed their plates in the dishwasher. “Not your problem.”

  She blinked. “It’s not my problem that Harry is upset?” Of course, James would say that. He never said what normal people would, something noncommittal. Something easy that would make you feel better. That dinner had been evidence of that.

  Why had she thought coming to his house was a good idea? Oh, yeah. Obviously, James’s skills in the sack were making her stupid.

  He tossed a dish towel over his shoulder. “His problems are not your problems. If he asks you for advice, you can give it. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

  “Is that what you do?” Folding her arms across her chest, she leaned against the refrigerator. “You just ignore it when your dad has a problem?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “My dad’s problems are different.”

  A ball of shame flared in her chest. She h
adn’t meant it that way. Oswald’s memory problems would rightly concern James. But she was getting a little tired of his attitude that she shouldn’t care about her biological father.

  All through dinner, disapproval had rolled off James in waves whenever Harry opened his mouth. She got it. Harry laughed a little too loud. His jokes were a bit too crude. That didn’t make him a bad person. And James’s hints that it was time for Harry to leave her home had been received as well as a vegan chef at a steakhouse.

  The back of her neck heated. She opened the kitchen cabinets until she found a glass and filled it with water from the tap. They had been more than hints, really. James had basically told Harry that she was too busy to entertain him, had straight-up asked when he was planning on going home. Yes, she felt stretched in all different directions. She even might have wondered the same thing to herself at times.

  But it wasn’t James’s place to put those questions to Harry. Her stomach tightened. What if he ticked off Harry so badly he left? And never came back? In all the scenarios she’d envisioned of things not working out with her bio dad, a pseudo-boyfriend ruining the relationship hadn’t been in any of them.

  “I know your situation with your dad is unique.” She took a sip of water and looked at him over the rim of the glass. “But that doesn’t mean that my relationship is any less complicated. And it was rude to ask Harry when he was leaving my house.”

  “You notice that he didn’t answer?” James shrugged. Most people would be insulted she’d called them rude. James just took it as fact. “You need to put an end date on this visit. He could be taking up permanent residency with you unless you make your position clear.”

  He stepped in front of her and ran his hands up and down her arms. “I’m thinking about what’s best for you. You’ve got a lot of work on your plate right now. You don’t need to be taking on someone else’s problems.”

  “And the fact that him being out of my house would make it easier for us to be alone together doesn’t factor into your concern?” One end of her mouth quirked up. She had to admit, James, her, and an empty house did hold its appeal.

  “Of course not,” he said even as he nodded, causing a burst of laughter to erupt from her lips. “Come here.” Placing her glass on the counter, he pulled her into his chest, and wrapped his arms around her.

  It felt good, leaning against him. His arms were strong, his body solid. His tendency to be obnoxious could have its charms, when it wasn’t driving her mad. He asked the direct, uncomfortable questions she would never dare to.

  “You’re obnoxious,” she told him, but all the fight had gone out of her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and inhaled deeply. He smelled faintly of cologne and detergent, and she burrowed her nose deeper into his shirt.

  When was Harry going to leave? He’d side-stepped the question when James had asked. She wanted this man in her bed. Tonight. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  Harry and Oswald let out a cheer from the living room. Someone had obviously scored. She let out a little growl knowing it wasn’t going to be her tonight.

  “I should get going.” She held on a bit tighter. “I have a busy day tomorrow.”

  “You’re exhausted.” He rubbed her back. “I wish…”

  “What?”

  He pulled back and set her at arms’ length distance. He gave her a tight smile. “Doesn’t matter. See you tomorrow?”

  “Sounds good.” She plodded into the dining room and picked up her sweater and tote. She tossed the bag over her slumped shoulder. James’s days in Shelter Bay were numbered. It sucked that of the time they did have left, they didn’t get to spend much of it alone together.

  Grabbing her at the back of her waistband, he hauled her against the wall, out of sight of the dads watching TV in the living room. “Hey, you forgot something.” His lips were warm and firm as they slid across hers. He leaned in, pressing his body against hers from chest to thigh.

  She softened. Every patch of skin he touched lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  He broke away and rested his forehead against hers, his chest rising and falling with quick pants. “You’ve got to get rid of your dad. We need some alone time. When you get home tonight, tell him he has to leave by this weekend.”

  And just like that, all her warm and fuzzy feelings toward the infuriating man went up in smoke.

  She jerked away from the wall. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  Holding his hands palm up, he sighed. “Look, I’m just saying—”

  “I know what you’re saying.” Stalking to the table, she threw her bag down on it. She rustled inside for her car keys while narrowing her glare on James. “You’re saying you know how to manage my life better than I do. I know you’re a bully with everyone else, but don’t try to pull that stuff with me.”

  Feet wide, he crossed his arm over his chest. “A bully?”

  “Don’t act surprised.” She shook her bag and heard the jingle of metal. Her keys were in there. Why the heck couldn’t she find them? “You barrel over people. And I, for one, am tired of it.”

  “Just because I can see your dad is a loser who’s taking advantage of you doesn’t make me a bully.” Snatching her bag from her hands, he reached in and pulled out her set of keys. He dangled them off of one finger in front of her face. “I call things as I see them. That’s being honest, not a bully.”

  She growled. He saw her as weak. A doormat. Just because she wanted people to be happy didn’t make her a doormat. Just because she’d rather bite her tongue, not make waves, not give anyone an excuse to leave her—

  She slammed the door on that bit of self-reflection. She couldn’t deal with it now. This was about James and his issues. Not hers.

  She snatched her keys off his finger. “You appreciate people who call things as they see them? Well, how’s this? You’re a jerk, James Marshall!”

  Stomping through the living room, she snapped, “Let’s go, Harry.” Both men jerked their heads up in surprise, and Oswald dropped a small orange container. He rocked back and forth in his Barcalounger, trying to get up.

  “Sorry.” She let out a deep breath and scooped up the pill container. She squatted beside Oswald and rubbed his forearm. “I forget how loud I can be sometimes.”

  He smiled. “That was your loud voice? My ex used to shout to bring the roof down. I swear, when she got angry, she could wake the dead.”

  Sarah handed him the pill bottle, caught a glimpse of the label, and paused.

  “And yet you left me alone to deal with her rages.” James’s voice could have frozen water. “After you left, she got even worse.”

  There was a fine tremor in Oswald’s hand as he reached for his pills. Ginger sat up from her position at Oswald’s feet, and laid her head on his knee.

  Harry sprang from his seat and clapped his hands together. “Well, I believe that’s our cue to skedaddle. Thanks for the grub,” he told James and made for the front door.

  Sarah frowned at his back. She turned to Oswald. “Maybe—”

  “No.” James strode to her and pulled her out of her squat. “We don’t need you playacting a therapist, trying to smooth things over between us.”

  “But—”

  James ground his jaw. “No.”

  Oswald patted her hand. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. He’s right. The time for us to mend our fences is past.”

  That, Sarah wouldn’t believe. Until a person was dead, it was never too late. But it wasn’t her place to force the issue. James was as stubborn as a bear with a honeypot. He wouldn’t listen to her no matter how much sense she made.

  Squeezing Oswald’s shoulder one last time, she strode for the door. James padded behind her, reaching around her to open it. She turned to face him on the threshold.

  “This night isn’t ending the way I wanted it to.” James pulled her braid over her shoulder and ran one finger down the center.

  “No? And how was tha
t?”

  “You know.” He stepped closer.

  Her fingers itched to reach for him, to burrow in his hair and drag his head down for a kiss. She shoved her hands in her pockets. “Yes, I know. But perhaps it’s better this way. We’re two very different people.”

  He tugged lightly on the braid. “We got on just fine in your treehouse.”

  Her skin tingled remembering just how fine. But lust like that was for teenagers. Adults needed more than a chemical attraction. “What we have is good enough for a one-night stand. But we’re past that one night. We need more than just our bodies to be compatible.”

  Lowering his head, he brushed his lips over her temple. “You’re giving one or both of us too little credit. I do like you, more than just for your body. Though, I’m not going to lie. My body wants you pretty fucking bad right now.”

  Her feet edged toward his of its own accord. He fit around her just right. He smelled of soap, musk, and man, and she tried to imprint that scent in her mind. “I’m not going to lie, either. I want you, too.” She took one last breath. Drank him in. And took a step back, her butt hitting the doorjamb. “But even if we were perfectly matched, you’re leaving in a week or two. And I don’t want to get attached before you take off.” Not to a man who didn’t want the connection family provided. A man like that was a risk she shouldn’t take.

  She held her breath, hoping he might contradict her. That any attachment she was feeling was safe, because he was feeling it, too.

  She wanted time to explore their attraction. Maybe enough time to have that attraction fizzle out naturally, so when he did leave, it wouldn’t tear out her heart.

  James looked back into the house, giving her his profile. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down. He took a step back, and the tiny kernel of hope that Sarah didn’t even realize she’d had, shriveled to dust.

  “You’re right.” He looked back at her. “I’ll be gone in a matter of days. Why start something now?”

  Sarah searched his face, his features even, unconcerned, and she knew she must have imagined the question in his last words.