Old Dog New Tricks

by Roxanne St Claire

  “I’ll comfort her.”

  “And then she’s going to get very attached to you and wonder why you leave. If you can’t commit to taking her, you’ll break her heart, and she’s been through enough. The next person she should get attached to should be her forever person.”

  She closed her eyes and let the truth bubble up. “For four years, I was responsible for a sick man. Not that I minded,” she added quickly. “We made that vow, and I did what any wife would do. But it wore me down. I have a little PTSD, which I don’t like to talk about, and the last thing I think I want is to be responsible for anyone on a long-term basis.”

  “I understand,” he said. “It’s a huge commitment to take a dog, and we counsel people not to even consider it if they aren’t in it for the long haul.”

  She gave a nod of thanks, and they cleaned up and headed to take the dogs out, with Rusty moving as slowly as if he’d been the one painting all day.

  Outside, Katie paused to take a deep inhale of clean night air, filling her head with the smell of winter in the woods. The occasional dog bark echoed across the yard and pen from the kennels, but mostly Waterford Farm was silent, still, and bathed in moonlight.

  “Do you ever get used to how beautiful this place is?” she asked.

  “When I do, I kick myself.”

  They walked slowly, letting the dogs sniff and stop until they reached the gate that led to the large training pen and the kennels. She’d been out here only in daylight, but now it felt different. A little more mysterious and seductive.

  Or maybe that was the effect of the man walking next to her.

  At the pen, Rusty headed toward a spot in the back, moving so slowly, it almost looked like he was limping, or maybe that was because Goldie, so much younger, was actually running.

  She looked up to mention it to Daniel, but froze at the way he was staring at her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He shook his head quickly, silent. Then, “Can you stay here with Rusty while I take Goldie in? I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded and bent down to give Goldie a kiss and got nothing but a sad look in return. While he was gone, she listened to the increased barking—mostly Goldie at the other dogs—and leaned against the fence with a mess of confusion tangling her heart. She squinted in the moonlight to watch Rusty walk across the pen, but must have imagined that limp.

  “We’re both a little guilty, you know,” Daniel said as he came back out.

  “Of falling for Goldie, but not committing to her?”

  “No, of holding back.”

  She turned, not understanding. “What are we holding back?”

  “We promised we’d share our lives and marriages, remember? You’re not talking about the toughest times, and I’m not…”

  She waited, uncertain where this could be going.

  “I’m not telling you everything, either,” he finally said.

  “You’ve told me a lot of stories, and each has been more entertaining than the one before it.” She nudged him. “Must be the Irish in you.”

  But his expression remained serious. “But I’m not telling you the real stuff.” He was quiet for a moment, leaning on the fence, thinking. “I guess that’s harder than I thought it would be.”

  “Still hurts to talk about her?”

  “No.”

  The answer surprised her, especially because it came with zero hesitation. “Then why would it be difficult?”

  “Because…” He swallowed and stared at the darkness, this time obviously choosing his words with care. “It’s intimate.”

  “You don’t have to share the intimate details, Daniel. I wouldn’t want to hear them.”

  “Our life was intimate,” he replied. “The moments I miss aren’t the big ones, not the major trials and memories that might appear in the family Christmas letter. The ones I miss are the little ones, the secret ones, the conversations in bed when we’d wake up at three a.m., or the days when I’d come home from having to put a dog down and she knew just what to say.”

  Katie sighed in agreement. “The things that make a marriage tender and real. And for me, there are details of carrying my husband through to his last breath that I don’t want to share with anyone.”

  She tore her gaze away from the dog to look up at Daniel, a little taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. It was hot, direct, and battled with her already-shaky emotions to make her legs feel weak.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, sensing that something was. Something big. Something serious.

  “Everything. Nothing.”

  She almost smiled. “Am I staring at a man in the middle of an existential crisis?”

  He closed his eyes and sighed out a breath.

  “Katie.” His voice was gruff. “I have to tell you something.”

  She could barely breathe. “What?”

  “Let’s go somewhere else,” he said. “Somewhere safe.”

  She blinked at him. “This isn’t safe?”

  “Somewhere safe for me,” he muttered. “A place where I can only do one thing. The right thing.”

  He took her hand and led her away, and with each step, Katie sensed he wasn’t going to hold back anymore.

  And she didn’t know if that thrilled or terrified her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After taking Rusty back into the house, Daniel decided to have this conversation in Annie’s garden. It was the safest spot he could think to go. For one thing, it was outside, so there was no real risk of getting too close, comfortable, or cozy on a sofa…or bed. But the real reason Daniel took Katie to the small, hedged-in space was that his late wife’s spirit was there. That alone would remind him that he needed to put the brakes on the longings that had him tight, tense, and thinking about things that he’d sworn he never would think about again.

  Hell, if he gave in to the urge—the constant, staggeringly powerful urge—to kiss Katie, surely Annie’s voice would ring loud in his head again, insisting that he stop. It could go only one place, and that was a place he’d vowed he would never go.

  But as he pushed open the creaky wrought-iron gate and stepped into the moon shadows of a piece of Waterford Farm that had always belonged to Annie Harper Kilcannon, he knew he still wasn’t safe, not even here.

  “Oh, everything is…dormant,” Katie said, taking a few steps along the stones that Daniel had laid after Shane was born and Annie wanted somewhere to put a playpen in the sunshine. On summer days, this garden had been green and vibrant, shaded by trees and cluttered with tools and toy John Deere tractors and trucks. In the winter, she’d kept it raked and clean and ready for spring planting.

  It had been a humble garden, since Annie’s focus was always the kids and the foster dogs. But this place had been a source of joy for her, a way to nurture and connect with the earth, and a refuge. Now?

  “It’s dead,” he said. Just like she was.

  “No, not entirely,” Katie replied quickly, turning to take in the green wall of podocarpus that formed the perimeter and the four rows of railroad ties he and his father had lugged in here to make raised vegetable beds. She stopped at a bare tree and snapped a tiny twig, angling it toward the moonlight. “There’s a sliver of green in here. There’s life. You could coax these back, you know, if you start now.”

  “Coaxing them sounds…daunting.”

  “I’m not a vegetable gardener, but I’m pretty good with flowers and plants. I’ll give you some advice as spring comes.” She stopped, obviously reading the expression on his face that said he didn’t want advice or help. Not about trees, anyway. “Or not,” she added.

  “Katie.” He reached for her hands and instantly knew it was a mistake, since they were small and comforting and fit so nicely into his. “I didn’t bring you here for gardening tips.”

  “I know. You have to tell me something, and you want to do it in a place that is imbued with the essence of your late wife.”

  He flinched at the dead-on accuracy. “Ho
w did you know?”

  “Lucky guess.” She notched her chin toward the bench a few feet away. “Should I be sitting down for this pronouncement?”

  “Maybe.” He kept one of her hands in his and walked there with her. “Because I want you to be comfortable.”

  She perched on the edge of the bench, looking anything but comfortable, thinking for a second until her eyes flashed and a soft gasp passed her lips. “Is she buried here?”

  “No, no.” He squeezed her hand. “Way out near the perimeter road. With my dad and my uncle.”

  She nodded, visibly relieved. “Okay. So tell me.”

  “I should have told you sooner,” he started, looking straight ahead, but feeling her gaze on him. “I should have told you the first time I…” Wanted to kiss you.

  “Just tell me now,” she said, putting a gentle hand over his. “I’m right here.”

  Yes, she was. Right here, so close, and in one moment he could put himself out of his misery by pulling her into his arms and giving in to what he knew in his heart they both wanted. But…then what?

  He turned to her, taking both hands to steady himself. “Yes, you’re here, and you are…”

  “Waiting,” she teased after five long seconds ticked away.

  “You are beautiful,” he finished, hating that it sounded shallow and cliché when it was so, so true. “You are beautiful and graceful and charming and so…so…” He closed his eyes to try to put his feelings into the right words. “So good on my heart. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Not exactly, but I like the picture you’re painting.”

  He squeezed her hands. “You make me feel…unbroken.”

  “I’m glad, Daniel. I feel the same way. Like that black hole of loneliness finally has a light in it.”

  “Yes, yes.” She got it. Good. “But that’s not all you make me feel.” He held her gaze. “It goes deeper and more…physical.”

  The hint of a smile curled her pretty mouth. “I know that.”

  He lifted his brows in question. “Are you feeling the same thing?”

  She gave a quick laugh, sounding surprised he even had to ask. “Pretty much…constantly.”

  “So you understand that I want to be with you in a way that…” Euphemisms. God, he hated them. “I want to hold you. All night.” Just saying the words tightened everything in him. “I want to sleep with you.”

  She let out a ragged sigh and a simple, “Yes.”

  Which made his whole body heat up and hurt more. “But I can’t,” he said.

  She eased back, searching his face, clearly confused by the confession. “They have pills.”

  He laughed. “I can. Believe me, I can. If the way I’ve woken up every day for the past week is—”

  She put her hand over his lips. “Then why not?”

  “Because I…” He closed his eyes and whispered the rest. “I made a vow.”

  “I know. We just painted over the faded shadow of the wedding picture, remember?”

  “Not that vow,” he said. “I made another one. The day Annie died. She was in the ICU, and I was outside…lost. I swore right then and there that if she died, I would never, ever make love to another woman.”

  She looked a little horrified. “Why? You’re not old. You’re not done. You’re not dead.”

  He closed his eyes and dropped his head. “I was dead without her. So I made the promise that I would be alone until the next time I see Annie.”

  “I don’t understand why you’d do that, especially if she didn’t ask you to. Was it something you’d talked about?”

  “Never. We planned to live until we were a hundred and die within weeks of each other and get buried next to each other.” Each word was like an iron nail across his chest. “My mother says that’s the kind of thing that makes God laugh.”

  “I don’t know if He laughs,” she said. “I imagine more of a smile of amusement and a wry shake of His head. Then comes the bolt of lightning from out of the blue.” She leaned into him. “Or a woman you want to sleep with.”

  He looked at her and knew she was that woman. “No one else has ever remotely tempted me,” he admitted.

  And it was true. The ache for her was palpable, rolling through him, making him want like a starving man facing a gourmet meal. The temptation to disregard that four-year-old promise literally made his blood burn.

  “I’ve been regretting that vow since…” He looked skyward with a laugh. “Since the day I walked into that bakery.”

  She blinked at him. “Your first thought was…that?”

  “Not my first,” he said. “And not a conscious thought, really. But the desire was under the surface, as real and powerful as the day you walked into a kitchen and asked if that dog was my date.”

  “We’ve always had chemistry,” she agreed, sounding a little wistful.

  “It’s more than that.” He stroked her knuckles with his thumb. “And that’s what really scares me.”

  “That it’s more than chemistry?”

  “Don’t you see?” he asked. “I could break my vow, give in to what we want, and then…”

  “You’re worried about what will happen when the truth comes out about Nick?”

  If only that were all. “I’m worried that once I wake up next to you, I’m going to want to do that again. And again. And again.”

  “That doesn’t sound awful,” she whispered with smile.

  “It sounds like…” Love. And that was something Daniel Kilcannon would never feel for anyone but Annie Harper. Never, ever. “An attachment I’m not sure I can have.”

  She gave a rueful laugh at that, which he totally deserved for using a stupid, meaningless phrase because he was scared to say the real word. But didn’t she feel the same way? After Nico? Didn’t the idea of loving someone else terrify her? Didn’t it feel every shade of wrong?

  “Don’t you think this is something we should fight?” he asked.

  “No,” she said simply. “But then I did talk to my husband about this. We had many months knowing that the end wasn’t too far away. We talked at length about this.”

  “Really?”

  “It was one of Nico’s favorite subjects.”

  He backed away, making a face. “You being with another man?”

  “My being satisfied and whole and not sexually deprived.”

  “That’s not very…romantic.”

  “I disagree,” she said. “They were some of the most romantic conversations we ever had.” She closed her eyes, and he saw her fight a wave of grief, the sensation so familiar he could ride that wave with her.

  She looked down for a moment, gathering her thoughts, and then met his gaze again, her eyes damp and dark. “He not only begged me to love again, he asked me to promise I would, which I did.”

  “So you made the opposite promise?”

  “Yes, and I made it in a haze of grief and fear and knowledge that he likely wouldn’t live to the end of that week.” She drew a line in the dirt with the toe of her boot, lost in thought for a moment. “For the years he was sick, it became a little running joke. At first, a way to bring humor to the cancer situation. Like, if we joked about it, then we’d never have to face it. Especially in the beginning, when we had hope. With each new attempt at chemo, with each slight improvement, he’d tease me about how I wouldn’t get a chance to take a lover or find a second husband.”

  Her voice cracked, and he stroked her hand, listening.

  “As the years went by and cancer became our life, the idea of him dying became a reality, then my future was less of a source of humor. He wanted everything lined up, so I would be secure, and spent hours with John making sure the deli would always be a source of income for me.”

  “A wise and good man.”

  “He was.” She clasped her hands in front of her chin, thinking. “A few days before he died, when he was briefly lucid, he made me promise that I wouldn’t be alone. He made me take his hand and put it over his heart and…” A tear dribbled a
s a sob choked her.

  “Katie.”

  She shook her head, not wanting to be stopped. “He made me swear I would love again. Made me promise—I’m not making this up—that I would have sex again. It was important to him, because our life in that regard died long before he did. So he made me take an oath that I would not go to my grave without…” She gave a wistful smile. “Well, you get the idea. He used…personal words.”

  The secret language of lovers. He knew it so well. “That was amazingly heroic of him, and not something many men would do. He obviously loved you with his whole heart and soul.”

  “He did. So I promised. I mean, what was I going to do? Deny a man his dying wish?” She wiped a tear. “So I’ve spent the last two years healing and growing and finding my independence.”

  He took her chin in his hand and turned her to face him. “And you’re ready?”

  “Completely.” She held his gaze with one so beautifully dark and intense, it shocked him. “I would love to keep my promise, and I would love for that to be with you. I’m sure that’s a little forward of me, but it’s true. I would make love to you in a heartbeat.”

  Low in his gut, down to his toes, a slow, unfamiliar heat burned through him, pushing him closer, making his pulse pound, drying his mouth so that he couldn’t swallow. Or breathe. Or think about anything but how they were inching closer and closer.

  A heartbeat. Like the one pounding in his chest that very minute.

  So much for his safe place in the garden.

  “And you, sir…” She placed her hand on his cheek, a gesture that should have been tender, but suddenly felt as intimate and sexual as if she had raked her nails over his bare chest and kept going. “You have probably never broken a promise in your life, even one you made to yourself.”

  “I don’t know, Katie.” He let his gaze drop to her mouth, already tasting the sweetness of it. “Is it even a promise if it’s only made to yourself?”

  “No one heard you?” The hope in her voice was tender and adorable.

  “I told Rusty later, and he’s up in my room right now, waiting for me.”