Hot Nashville Nights

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  When we arrived at the rescue, we both wiped our feet and removed our damp jackets, hanging them on hooks in the entryway.

  I introduced Alice to the staff and showed her around. The guesthouse had been remodeled to my specifications. We had kennels for when we needed them, but we also had canine-friendly rooms where the dogs could nap and play and socialize. There were tons of outdoor activities, too, on nicer days.

  “This is a wonderful setup,” Alice said, as we stood near the kitchen.

  “We do our best.” At the moment, a volunteer was preparing a meal for one of our newest residents, a poor little pup with a digestive disorder. “We have quite a few special-needs dogs.”

  “Are they difficult to place?”

  “Yes.” It was an unfortunate reality and one we faced daily. “Finding the right homes for them can be challenging.”

  Alice went quiet. The she asked, “What makes you do all of this, Spencer?”

  I automatically replied, “I just want to make a difference in the world.” That was my standard response, what I’d gotten used to saying. But it went deeper than that, so much deeper. I’d felt like a stray dog when I’d first landed on my aunt and uncle’s doorstep. They’d fed me and clothed me and taught me to sit up and beg, rewarding me when I behaved and punishing me when I didn’t. But I knew that no matter what I did, I would always be the mongrel they never really wanted.

  During my darkest days, I used to fantasize about searching for my father, a man who didn’t even know I existed. Sometimes I still thought about it.

  “You have made a difference,” Alice said.

  For a second, I didn’t know what she meant. Then I realized that she was referring to the rescue.

  “Do you want to meet our mascot?” I asked. “He’s a three-year-old English bulldog who runs the show around here. We’re not going to adopt him out. He loves greeting people in the office, so that’s where he is most of the time. He’s Candy and Cookie’s best buddy, too.”

  She smiled. “I’d love to meet him. What’s his name?”

  “We call him Peterbilt. Pete for short. We chose that name because he’ll come at you like an eighteen-wheeler, pestering you to pet him.”

  An amused expression brightened up her face, making her even prettier than she already was. “I’m going to be delighted to make his acquaintance, I’m sure.”

  I took her to the office, a woodsy room that overlooked one of the fenced yards. For now, the office was vacant. No one was manning the desk. Pete lounged in his doggie bed, but when he caught sight of us, he roused himself quickly and ran toward us. He gave me a sloppy grin and made a beeline for Alice, barreling right into her.

  She nearly tripped, and I grabbed her arm before she fell. She burst into a hearty laugh. Pete was a comical dude, with droopy eyes, a massive jaw and crooked teeth. Short and stout, with thick white wrinkles, he weighed about fifty pounds, moved with a crablike gait and drooled excessively.

  Alice dropped to the floor to pet him, and he climbed onto her lap. I sat across from them and reached over to scratch his ears.

  “Did you find yourself a new girlfriend there, buddy?” I asked him.

  He grinned at me again. He was in canine heaven, but I could hardly blame him. I knew how it felt to be physically close to her. She wrapped her arms around him, soaking up his affection, and I envied him for charming her so easily. Of course, I’d done that, too, way back when.

  “Can I bring him a toy next time I come by?” she asked. “Would that be okay?”

  “Sure. You can bring him whatever you want.” I wasn’t going to deny Pete. Or her. She seemed to need to connect with him. “He’s good about sharing his toys with the other dogs, too. He isn’t territorial.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Not even with his girlfriends?”

  “No, not even with them.”

  “I guess he has a lot of female companions, then.”

  “He has enough to keep him busy. But he’s neutered, so it’s not the real deal. He still likes the ladies, though.” Nonetheless, I didn’t think it was the dog’s girlfriends who interested her. I suspected that she was fishing to see who I slept with these days. I furrowed my brow and asked, “Will you tell me something?”

  She squinted. “What?”

  “Did I hurt you? In the past, I mean.”

  Her breath rushed out. “What makes you think that?”

  “Because you’re the one who ended it, who just texted me one day and said that you wouldn’t be back. I know we weren’t committed to each other or anything, but it didn’t seem like you were getting tired of me, at least not when we were together. But I must have done something to upset you.”

  She frowned. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

  “Come on. Tell me what I did.” I wasn’t letting up, not until I understood it better.

  “Just drop it, Spencer.”

  “Tell me.” I prodded her again.

  “Fine.” Her gaze slammed into mine. “I stopped seeing you because I needed to be someone new. To change my ways. To quit sleeping with men who didn’t care about me.”

  Her remark stung. But it was true. I hadn’t cared about myself then, let alone been capable of caring for someone else. Now I was wondering if I should’ve left well enough alone, instead of bugging her for a response.

  Then she said, “I probably shouldn’t tell you this. But I’ve actually done a good job of cleaning up my act. I’ve been celibate since I was with you.”

  Hell’s fire. I merely stared at her. She hadn’t had sex in five years? I couldn’t have been more shocked.

  After giving myself a second to comprehend her news, I said, “That’s crazy, I mean, it’s just so...” Before she misunderstood my reaction, I anxiously added, “I haven’t been with anyone since I got sober.”

  Now it was her turn to stare at me. “I hadn’t expected that you...” She shook her head. “It’s weird that we both...”

  Yeah, weird. I didn’t even know what to say next.

  She paused before she asked, “Do the women who follow you online know? Is that why they’ve been calling you unattainable?”

  “No. They only say that about me because I haven’t shown any interest in them.” It wasn’t because they knew that I gave up sex. “I prefer not to advertise what I do. Or don’t do,” I clarified.

  She shifted the dog in her lap. He was falling asleep, his eyes drifting closed. “Me, neither.”

  It made me feel strange that I was the last guy she’d been with. The last man to be inside her. To make her come. It almost seemed romantic. But I knew that it wasn’t.

  “I really was the wrong guy for you,” I said.

  She sighed. “You were wrong for everybody back then.”

  “I still am.” I shrugged off my discomfort. I wouldn’t know how to do a relationship if it smacked me over the head. “Just call me Mr. Wrong.”

  “Well, that’s funny,” she replied solemnly. “Because after I ended it with you, I decided that I was going to wait for Mr. Right. That I wouldn’t sleep with anyone until he came along. I’m hoping he’ll be the man that I marry someday.”

  “The white picket fence thing.” I’d never pictured her in that role. But I’d never pictured her anywhere, except naked in my bed.

  She lobbed a curious look at me. “While we’re on the subject, why did you stop having sex?”

  Lucky for me, I had a solid answer. “Abstinence is part of my sobriety program.”

  “Through what? AA?”

  “No, but it’s something similar at a private rehab center. Kirby introduced me to it. We both attend meetings there.” I explained without going into too much detail. “It’s an outpatient program. Not one of those places where you check yourself in.”

  “And they advocate abstinence for two whole years? That seems like a long tim
e for a program like that.”

  “Typically, it’s no dating and no sex for a year. But after my first year was up, I just wasn’t ready to jump back in.”

  She sent me another curious look, snaring me with her next question. “When will you be ready?”

  “I don’t have a guideline to follow.” As badly as I wanted her, I was already losing ground. “I guess I’ll just know. But for now, I’m still trying to figure myself out. What about you? Have you at least been on some dates?”

  “Yes, but it never amounts to anything.” Her shoulders drooped. “The chemistry just hasn’t been there.”

  My chemistry with her was a bitch. I could feel it tightening its noose around me. “I haven’t even kissed anyone.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Me, neither.”

  I cleared my throat. “Not even on any of those dates?”

  She opened her eyes. “I don’t kiss on first dates anymore, and none of them ever got past that point.” She glanced at the sleeping bulldog. “I’ll bet Pete would kiss me if he could.”

  I watched her with anticipation. “Sloppy dog kisses don’t count.” But my mouth on hers would. I wanted to do it in the worst way.

  When Alice lifted her head, our gazes locked. The rain was slashing against the office windows, intensifying the moment. Neither of us spoke, not one word, not one syllable.

  I finally said, “I feel like I’m in junior high again.”

  She blinked at me. “Is that when you had your first kiss?”

  “With tongues, yeah. How about you?”

  She winced. “I was in elementary school. Fifth grade, at someone’s birthday party. I went into a closet with a boy I liked.”

  “Damn, girl. You really were a wilding.” I tried for a bit of humor. “Do you want to go back into my closet with me?”

  She broke down and laughed. “You wish.”

  Darned right, I did. My heart jumped when I said, “I can only imagine how good a kiss would feel after all this time.”

  “Really good,” she said, her voice turning soft.

  We stared longingly at each other. But we didn’t lean forward or put our mouths together. It seemed too risky, too wrong. We were former lovers, in the midst of celibacy, and this wasn’t a path either of us was supposed to be taking.

  No matter how hot and satisfying it would be.

  Three

  Alice

  I wanted to kiss Spencer, so help me I did. He was arousing me from the inside out, just the way he used to.

  He ran a hand through his hair, and I went warm all over. I imagined running my hands through it, too. It fell across his forehead, the thick dark strands messy from the rain. God, he was tempting: so familiar, so gorgeous.

  So celibate.

  Somehow that should have made him seem safer, but it didn’t. He was making me feel like a sex-starved mess. Spencer had changed, but he wasn’t any better for me now than he was before. I needed someone who was ready to settle down and raise a family. I needed security, not a recovering alcoholic, trying to find himself.

  To keep myself from staring at him any more than I already had, I glanced down at the dog. Pete was still out like a light.

  “At least he isn’t snoring,” I said, trying to make regular conversation. We couldn’t keep talking about how good a kiss would feel or how long it had been since we’d had sex.

  Spencer seemed relieved that I changed the topic. He quickly replied, “Pete used to snore. He had breathing problems when we took him in. We had his palate surgically corrected. He had a few other health issues that we dealt with, too. As you can see, he’s totally fine now.”

  “Where did he come from? What’s his background?”

  “He was left at a kill shelter, and his time was almost up when we heard about him.” Spencer blew out a tight breath. “I guess his owner didn’t think he was worth it. It makes me sick, the way some people treat their pets, as if they’re just so damned disposable.”

  “I think the work you’re doing here is wonderful.” I was impressed by how nurturing he seemed and how much he obviously cared. Would he be a gentle lover now? There’d never been any sweetness during our affair, no snuggly warmth. As much as I’d wanted him to hold me afterward, he just hadn’t been the type.

  I shook away the memory. But somehow, the longing remained. “What about Candy and Cookie? Were they left at a shelter, too?”

  “They were orphaned. They’d been alone in the house with their owner when she accidentally fell down the stairs. She died on impact, from a spinal cord injury.” He frowned and continued with, “The dogs were so traumatized, they dug their way out of the yard and started living on the streets. People tried to catch them, but they just kept running away. Then I found them hiding under my front porch.”

  “Really? You found them yourself?”

  He nodded. “They were dirty and matted and covered in burrs. Candy’s legs were scraped up, and one of Cookie’s ears was torn. I called a mobile vet, and he came out to the house and tended to them. Since there wasn’t anyone associated with their owner who was able to take them, I offered to let them stay with me until I found another home for them.” He drew his knees up. “But I got attached and kept them instead. After that, I decided to start a rescue. There’s a lot of work that’s involved in running a place like this. It didn’t happen overnight.”

  I pondered the story he’d told me. It was certainly better than mulling over our past. “I never really thought about what happens to pets when their owners die.”

  “My mother died in a similar way. From a fall.”

  “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry.” He’d mentioned his mom earlier, and now he was talking about the manner in which she’d left this earth. It didn’t get more painful than that. I shuddered and asked, “Were you with her when it happened?”

  “No.” He glanced at his shoes, at the bits of mud and grass on them. “I was at school, and she was home, painting the beams in our apartment. The ladder tipped over, and she suffered a head injury.” He kept studying his shoes. “She thought she was okay at first, but then she started feeling dizzy and confused and called a friend to take her to urgent care. But by then, her brain was already starting to swell.”

  He finally lifted his gaze. He’d done more talking today than he had in the entire time I’d known him.

  Before he slipped back into his old silent ways, I said, “It must have been awful for you, going to live with your aunt and uncle after something so traumatic.”

  “Yeah. It pretty much sucked.”

  “Which one of them is your blood relative?”

  “My aunt. She’s my mother’s older sister. They came from a dysfunctional family.” He paused slightly. “Their dad was an alcoholic.”

  I gauged the discomfort in his eyes. Those dark, brooding eyes. “I heard it can be hereditary. The alcoholism,” I added, making my meaning clear.

  He shrugged it off. “My grandfather was a mean old cuss who died from liver disease. I hardly remember him.”

  “At least you weren’t a mean drunk.”

  He snared my gaze. “I was rough with you in bed.”

  Was it necessary for him to remind me of that? “We were both rough with each other.” I used to rake my nails all over him, clawing and scratching. “It’s just what we did.”

  “I know, but I should have been gentler.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, even if it did. I’d always left his apartment feeling lonely and confused.

  He replied, “I’m sorry if I wasn’t more romantic with you.”

  His apology went straight to my heart, making it skitter. “Is this part of your sobriety? Saying sorry to all of the women you never cuddled?”

  No.” He spoke lower, raspier. “I’m only saying it to you.”

  I tried to act normal, to not let my emo
tions show. “I appreciate your concern, but it isn’t necessary.”

  He watched me, a bit too closely. “I just don’t want you feeling bad about the past.”

  Or letting it affect the present? It was too late for that. I wasn’t just struggling with my memories, I was troubled by his current association with Kirby, too.

  “How well do you know my sister and Brandon?” I asked. I’d never told Mary about my affair with Spencer, and she’d never mentioned his name to me, either. But that didn’t mean they weren’t acquainted.

  “I’ve never met Mary. Or Brandon. My friendship with Kirby doesn’t extend to his kids. Not that I have anything against them. It’s just easier for me to keep my relationship with him private.”

  “That makes sense, I suppose.” It was easier for me, too, to keep my sister out of the loop. She knew that I used to sleep around and that I was waiting for the right man now. But we didn’t have major conversations about it. Mary had been through enough with me when I was a kid, always worrying about my wild side. Before those reckless feelings came flooding back, I said, “I better get going.”

  Spencer frowned. “You don’t have to run off.”

  “I’m not.” Thankfully, I had a reason for leaving. “I’m having lunch with Tracy today, and it’s all the way across town.” I had plenty of time, but it was still a good excuse. Besides, I was eager to see her. Unlike Mary, I used Tracy as my confidante. I’d already told her about Spencer, talking about him on and off throughout the years, and now I would be telling her even more. “It was nice seeing the rescue and meeting Pete, but I really have to go.”

  He was still frowning. “Then I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “All right. But how do I...?” I was concerned about startling the sleeping bulldog.

  He bent over to help me. “Just roll him off you. He probably won’t even wake up.”

  We moved Pete together, and he landed belly side up, with his feet in the air and his tongue lolling to one side.

  “Told ya,” Spencer said, and we both smiled.

  I climbed up off the floor. He stood, too. At least the tension was gone. But I knew how quickly it could return.