Welcoming the Bad Boy: A Hero's Welcome Novel

by Annie Rains

  Unlocking the front door, Griffin walked inside and grabbed his remote, flipping the TV on for background noise. His thoughts drifted back to Val as he dipped inside the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. Maybe she was right. Maybe his mother would be more receptive to him if he worked at the nursing home. He could bring his newly certified therapy dog with him. He’d mainly gotten the certification so that Trooper could come with him in hotels, restaurants, and planes. A war hero didn’t deserve to be left behind or caged in the luggage area. But now he was realizing that the certification might have some other benefits to it.

  He plopped down on his sofa and stared at the TV, patting the seat beside him for Trooper to jump up, too. “What do you think, boy? Want to come out of retirement for a good cause?”

  Trooper wagged his tail.

  Griffin took that as a yes.

  —

  Val returned from a day at the beach with sand in places she didn’t know you could get sand. She pulled the strap of her tank top down to examine the red skin of her shoulder underneath. She’d always had fair skin that contrasted sharply with her dark hair and blue eyes. Fair skin that required slathering and re-slathering of sunscreen during the summer.

  Sweet Cheeks barked and Val directed her attention to the little dog who’d nipped at every heel that passed by on the beach today. Then, to cap off the “perfect” day, Sweet Cheeks had lunged after a five-year-old boy. Lunged so hard that the leash had come untied from Val’s beach umbrella. The boy went running with Sweet Cheeks following, and Val had chased them both. Thus the sand all over her body, including inside her mouth from when she’d fallen and eaten someone’s sandcastle. To Sweet Cheeks’s credit, she’d come running when Val had tripped, and she’d licked Val’s face despite its thick coating of sunblock and sand.

  “A shower for me and a can of Alpo for you.” Then Val would solve the problems of the world. The first problem being that Alma got out of rehab in two weeks and there was no way Sweet Cheeks could return home to live with her as she was. The second problem was that Val had watched every hot, muscled guy on the beach today, begging her muse to get busy and…nothing.

  With a sigh, Val retreated down the hall and took a long, hot shower, then dressed in her oversized pajamas. Grabbing a pint of ice cream to soothe herself, she scooted over to the couch where Sweet Cheeks was licking herself. “That’s impolite, lady.”

  Val reached for the remote control, then turned to the knock on her door. It was early yet. Most normal people were not already dressed for bed. But most normal people didn’t have alter egos they kept hidden from the world, either. Val set her ice cream on the table beside the couch and went to open the door.

  “Delivery,” the tall guy dressed in dark khaki pants said, politely pretending not to notice her polka dot, elastic-waisted pants and matching tank top.

  “I didn’t order anything,” Val said.

  He shrugged and handed her a box that was nearly as tall as she was. It was surprisingly light, though.

  “Thanks.” Val started to pull it inside when another vehicle pulled into her driveway. “Oh, geez.” Her father parked and headed toward her.

  “I see you’re spending your time off wisely,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek when he was close enough.

  “Dad. What are you doing here?” she asked, still holding on to the box.

  “Can I come in?” he asked.

  “Of course.” Val gestured for him to enter, then wondered why the watch-dog-extraordinaire wasn’t yapping at her guest. Closing the door behind her, she faced her father, her stomach clenching at the look of worry in his eyes. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  Val drew back. “Me? Why?”

  “You missed church last Sunday. You haven’t returned my calls.”

  Oh, yeah. She’d been “sick” on Sunday, the kind of sickness that demanded staying in bed and eating Pop-Tarts while catching up on late-night TV on her DVR. Sometimes life required mornings like that. And she’d intended to call her father back eventually.

  “I’m fine,” she said, offering up a smile instead of an excuse, and hoping it was enough.

  He nodded. “Good. So you’ll be able to help the Martins?”

  Val sucked in a breath. She was always being volunteered to help someone somewhere without her consent. “The Martins? What’s going on with the Martins?”

  “I left you a voicemail. They got orders to move to Virginia. Ellen needs help with the baby while she packs up. It’d be nice if the church provided some meals to them, too. You know it’s hard to cook when you’re packing,” he said.

  No, she didn’t know that. She’d never moved from her hometown of Seaside, which was maybe part of the problem.

  “And since you have time on your hands,” he continued, giving her a pointed look.

  He almost made it sound like having the summer off was a sin. And no, she didn’t have time on her hands. She had a looming deadline that, if she didn’t meet it, might have her looking for a new publisher. She couldn’t tell him that, though. If he knew about her other job, he would really be concerned. According to him, the only book worth reading was the Good Book. Val liked that book, too, but she wasn’t going to apologize for the love stories she wrote. Not to anyone. Better to hide it altogether, she thought, nodding along at whatever her father was saying.

  “Valerie? Are you listening?”

  “Yes, of course,” she lied, looking up. But she had no clue what he’d said over the last few minutes.

  “Great. I’ll tell Ellen you’ll be over tomorrow night then.”

  Val frowned. “Wait. What?”

  “To bring them dinner and watch the baby while they pack. The church always pitches in when our military families move. You know that.”

  “Why am I always the church?” Val placed her hands on her hips. “I can’t go over tomorrow night. I have plans.”

  “What plans?”

  “Well, book club at the nursing home for one,” she said, starting to panic. She needed to be writing. She didn’t have time to cook meals and coo over babies, as much as she liked them.

  “This takes priority.”

  “Says who?” Val’s voice was rising. “The ladies in the club expect me to be there. It’s important.”

  By the look on his face, he didn’t think so. “Have you considered doing a Bible study instead with the group? Reading is a good thing, but read something worthwhile, Val. You have an opportunity to preach.”

  Val shook her head. “You’re the preacher, Daddy. Not me.”

  He held up his hands. “Another discussion, another time. Right now the church needs you to help the Martins. After the book club?”

  Val sighed, resigned to donate her time if her father would leave her alone. “Fine.”

  “Good.” He smiled finally, the first since he’d stopped by. “What’s in the box?” he asked.

  Good question.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t ordered anything.”

  He reached in his pocket and handed her his set of keys. There was a pocketknife keychain attached.

  Without thinking, she slid the blade along the taped edges of the box, eager to see what was inside, too. Her birthday had just passed and her aunt Jessie always sent things late. Last year her gift had been in a similar-sized box and had held a nice floor lamp inside.

  Val handed the set of keys back to her dad and pushed back the box’s flaps. A blow-up man-doll smiled back at her. Oh, God. This was definitely not from Aunt Jessie. The blow-up man was tall, tan-skinned, and only wearing a painted-on pair of blue bikini briefs.

  Her father looked like he might implode as he peeked inside the box. “Valerie?” he said, his voice strained, reminding her of the time he’d caught her making out with a boy from youth group in the back of the church.

  That had been a bad night.

  “It’s a joke,” she said, her cheeks burning. And whoever the joker was would be getting an earful fr
om her later. Kat? Julie? There was no card attached, so she’d have to wait for one of them to ’fess up.

  “With friends like that, who needs enemies?” her father said, his cheeks red and his lips pinched.

  “Right.” She tried not to laugh. She’d agreed to his request. Now she just needed him to leave. “So I’ll bring the Martins dinner tomorrow after book club.” Which meant she’d be spending the next day at the grocery store and then at the stove before going to the nursing home and ending up at the Martins’ house. Which meant tonight she’d be pulling long hours trying to coax a story from her head that just wouldn’t come. Her agent’s words earlier returned to haunt her. She needed a man for inspiration. Val glanced at the blow-up doll again and knew exactly who’d sent it. She laughed out loud, unable to help herself. Coming from her sassy literary agent, it was hilarious.

  Her father’s left eyebrow hooked upward. “Good. Thank you, Valerie.” He turned to head out the door, causing a pang of regret to stab inside her chest. If her mother were still alive, maybe her relationship with her father would be different. There was no time for that kind of thinking, though. And no use for it. It was what it was and there was no changing history.

  She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, Dad. Drive safe.”

  “Good night. Make sure you lock this door.”

  “I love you, too,” she said, reading between the lines.

  When the door was closed and she was alone, she grinned at the blow-up doll and pulled out her phone to type a quick text to Nikki.

  Point taken.

  Then Val’s heart took a sudden dive as she remembered Sweet Cheeks, who should’ve been barking and harassing her father just now. Sweet Cheeks hadn’t even made an appearance. Val ran back into the living room and stopped cold at the sight of the little puppy licking the last remaining bits of her chocolate chip ice cream that she’d put down when she’d gone to answer the door.

  “No. No, no, no.” Val moved to the couch and sat beside the dog, rubbing her full little belly. “Why did you do that? I wouldn’t even have eaten the whole carton.” Or she’d have tried not to.

  The puppy licked her lips.

  Wasn’t chocolate deadly to dogs? Val had heard that somewhere. She couldn’t be responsible for killing Alma’s dog. Whipping out her phone, Val started searching for local vet offices. It was after hours, though. All of them would be closed except the emergency vet, which would cost a small fortune that she didn’t have right now.

  As she freaked, Griffin came to mind. He worked with dogs. He’d know exactly what to do. And he’d offered to help her. She just didn’t know how to get ahold of him. She chewed her lip as she stared at Sweet Cheeks nuzzled up to her thigh, resting her sweet little head.

  She could call the nursing home. They’d have a phone number for him and he’d help her. Sending up a prayer, she started dialing.

  Chapter 5

  Griffin stacked three different types of meat between his bread. Then he spread a thin layer of avocado inside, making sandwich perfection. Heading to the table in the corner of his dining room, his stomach rumbled. As uneventful as the day had been, he’d still missed lunch.

  His phone buzzed at his side. Ignoring it, he sunk his teeth into the lightly toasted bread. So good. These were a family specialty. All of his aunts, uncles, and cousins made their sandwiches the same way. Griffin had parted ways with them, too, after learning about his adoption. He’d made a clean break with his life up to that point. He’d always felt like the black sheep of the Black family, getting in trouble all the time, never making straight A’s no matter how hard he studied. Suddenly it all made sense. All of these things were because he didn’t belong. So Griffin had done himself and everyone else a favor—or so he’d thought at the time—and left.

  Griffin chewed, pushing down the thoughts of his family. Maybe it was his aunt Becky calling to check on his mother, he thought, glancing over at the phone. It stopped buzzing. He needed to call his aunt back. He’d been able to reconnect with her when he’d gone down to get his mother. Like the prodigal son, everyone in his extended family had welcomed him back into their lives, as if he’d never left.

  Everyone except his mother, who could no longer remember who he was.

  The phone started ringing again.

  Setting his sandwich down, he reached for it. He didn’t recognize the number displayed on the screen. Whoever the caller was, they were determined to talk to him tonight, though. “Hello,” he said.

  “Griffin?” The female voice on the other line shook a little as she said his name.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Val Hunt.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Sweet Cheeks,” she said, her voice turning squeaky on the edges. “She ate a carton of chocolate ice cream and I know chocolate can be dangerous for dogs. She’s just lying on the couch and I’m not sure what to do. The veterinary office is closed until morning, and—” She was talking a mile a minute.

  “Slow down. You fed the dog ice cream?” he asked, trying to understand.

  “No. Yes. Not intentionally. Griffin, I’m scared she’s going to die. I didn’t know who else to call. What do I do?”

  “Wait for me. I’ll be right over.” He scooted back from the table and carried his sandwich to the refrigerator. This trumped a sandwich. Trooper followed under Griffin’s command. Griffin grabbed a T-shirt from a pile of clean laundry in a basket and pulled it over his white tank top. Grabbing the keys to his Ford Explorer, he gave Trooper the command to follow and they headed out into the night.

  It only took him ten minutes to get to Val’s apartment. “Stay,” he told Trooper, climbing out of his SUV. When he rang the doorbell, he didn’t hear the little dog yapping behind it. That would’ve been a welcome sound tonight. The door opened a second later, and Val breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of him. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Dried tears shimmered on her cheeks in the light.

  “It’s going to be fine,” he said, trying to soothe her fears. “Where’s the puppy?” he asked, refusing to utter the words “Sweet Cheeks.” Who in their right mind named their dog Sweet Cheeks?

  “On the couch.” She led him over to the living room, her breaths shuddering through her. “Is she going to be okay? I don’t want to kill Alma’s dog. It’s her baby.”

  He crouched beside the sofa and smiled at the pup, whose eyes were tilted in discomfort. “You got a little greedy, didn’t you, girl?” he asked, softening his voice. “It’s all right. Let me take a look at you.” He gently rubbed the puppy’s belly. It was firm and protruding. His gaze moved to the empty ice cream container, half the size of the little dog. “Was it full?”

  Val shook her head. “No. Maybe a quarter of the way full.”

  The label said CHOCOLATE CHIP. That was good. It meant there’d been a minimal amount of chocolate. People tended to think a dog’s heart would explode with the caffeine and theobromine. Some veterinarian somewhere had placed the fear of that in every pet owner’s heart. It was true, large amounts of the stimulants could be lethal to dogs, but the chocolate chip ice cream that this puppy had consumed likely didn’t have enough to cause real harm. The dairy might upset its stomach, though.

  “Well?” Val said, crouching beside him. Instead of vanilla cookies, tonight she smelled like lavender, a scent that had a reputation for being calming. He didn’t feel calm right now, though. He felt like leaning closer to the woman beside him and doing things that were downright sinful in some minds. Probably in the mind of a preacher’s daughter.

  “I think she’ll be fine. We should monitor her, though. Just in case.”

  “We?” she asked, uncertainty lining her voice.

  He turned to look at her. Big mistake, because at this close range, he wanted to do a lot more than lean into her. He wanted to kiss those pouty rose petal lips of hers. Clearing his throat, he shook his head. “Unless you want to monitor on your own.”

  “No,” she
said quickly, shaking her head. “I’ve never had a dog before. I don’t know what to do with a sick dog.”

  He laughed. “The same thing you would do with a sick person. Take them to the doctor.” He inspected the worry on her face. Her blue eyes were huge against her pale skin. “I can stay a little while. If Sweet…” He paused, unable to utter such a ridiculous name. “Would that make you feel better?”

  She paused, looking between him and the puppy.

  He wanted her to say yes to him staying so much that he needed her to say no. He needed a woman complicating his life like he needed a hole in his head. His mother was already doing a good job of that anyway.

  “Okay,” Val said softly. “Please stay.”

  Well, damn. Things just got a little more complicated.

  —

  Val swallowed. Her mouth felt a little dry as she ignored the possible ramifications of allowing a man in her home in the evening. Just the two of them. The first consequence being that her father would no doubt get wind of this by tomorrow morning. This was a small town, and her father’s congregation had a habit of telling on her.

  Pushing those thoughts away, she considered the bigger problem. She was attracted to Griffin. Very attracted. After their conversation outside the nursing home the other day, however, there was no possibility of romance between them. Just as well, because she needed to be focused on things like, oh, writing her next book, which was due by summer’s end. A book she hadn’t even started yet. A fresh wave of anxiety ran through her.

  Sweet Cheeks whimpered at Griffin’s side. Val watched as Griffin picked the puppy up and cradled her like a baby. Something about watching a big guy like him being so gentle made butterflies flutter around inside her chest.

  “Can I get you something? A beer maybe?” she asked.

  Griffin met her gaze. His eyes were dark, just like his hair and his tanned skin. In the dim lighting of her living room, he looked delicious. “I have my dog, Trooper, in my Explorer. He can’t stay out there. Can I bring him inside?”