Simply Irresistible

by Rachel Gibson

  “I’m gettin‘ pretty good,” she yelled above the chaotic atmosphere of the arcade.

  He stared at the screen in front of Lexie and felt a dull ache start at his temples. “Watch out for the old lady,” he warned her too late. Lexie mowed down the senior citizen and sent her aluminum walker flying.

  John didn’t particularly like video games or arcades. He didn’t like shopping malls, preferring to order what he needed by mail, and he didn’t really care for animated films either.

  The video game ended, and John turned his wrist and looked at his watch. “It’s about time to go.”

  “Did I win, John?” Lexie asked as she pointed to her score on the big screen. She wore the silver filigree ring he’d bought her from a jewelry vendor at Pike Place Market on her middle finger, and on the seat next to her sat the little hand-blown glass cat he’d purchased at another stall. The back of his Range Rover was loaded with toys, and he was just killing time before he and Lexie headed up the street to the movie theater so she could see The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

  He was trying to buy his daughter’s love. He was unrepentant. He didn’t care. He would buy her anything, spend his time in dozens of loud arcades, or sit through hours of Disney if he could hear his child call him “Daddy” just once. “You almost won,” he lied, and reached for her hand. “Get your cat,” he said, then the two of them wove their way out of the arcade. He’d do just about anything to have the old Lexie back.

  When he’d picked her up at home earlier that afternoon, she’d met him at the door without a trace of eye shadow or rouge. It was Saturday, and even though he preferred to see her sans hooker makeup, he was so desperate to see the girl he’d met in June that he’d suggested she wear a little light lip gloss. She’d declined with a shake of her head.

  He might have tried to talked to Georgeanne again about Lexie’s unusual behavior, but she hadn’t been home when he’d picked her up. According to the teenage sitter who wore a ring through her right nostril, Georgeanne was working but was due home before he returned with Lexie.

  Maybe he’d talk to Georgeanne later, he thought as he and Lexie headed toward the movie theater. Maybe they could both behave like reasonable adults and resolve what was best for their daughter. Yeah, maybe. But there was just something about Georgeanne that tweaked his nerves and made him want to provoke her.

  “Look!” Lexie came to an abrupt stop and stared into a shopfront window. Behind the glass, several striped kittens rolled in a furry ball and chased each other up a carpeted scratching post. About six baby cats were kept in a large wire pen, and as she watched in awed wonder, John was treated to a glimpse of the little girl who’d stolen his heart in Marymoor Park.

  “Do you want to go inside and take a quick look?” he asked her.

  She glanced up at him as if he’d just suggested a felony. “My mommy says that I…” She paused and a slow smile lifted her lips. “Okay. I’ll go inside with you.”

  John opened the door to Patty’s Pets and let his daughter into the store. The shop was empty except for a saleswoman who stood behind the counter writing something in a notebook.

  Lexie handed him the glass cat he’d bought for her, then she walked to the pen and reached over the top. She stuck her hand inside and wiggled her fingers. Immediately, a yellow tabby pounced and wrapped its furry little body around her wrist. She giggled and lifted the kitten to her chest.

  John shoved the glass figurine into the breast pocket of his blue and green polo shirt then knelt down beside Lexie. He scratched the kitten between the ears, and his knuckles brushed his daughter’s chin. He didn’t know which felt softer.

  Lexie looked at him, so excited she could hardly hold it all in. “I like her, John.”

  He touched the little cat’s ear and brushed the back of his hand across Lexie’s jaw. “You can call me Daddy,” he said, holding his breath.

  Her big blue eyes blinked once, twice, then she buried a smile in the top of the kitten’s head. A dimple dented her pale cheek, but she didn’t say a word.

  “All of those kittens have had their shots,” the saleswoman announced from behind John.

  John looked down at the toe of his running shoe, disappointment tugging at his heart. “We’re just looking today,” he said as he stood.

  “I could let you have that little tabby for fifty dollars. Now, that’s a real steal.”

  John figured that with Lexie’s obsession for animals, if Georgeanne wanted her to have one, she would. “Her mother would probably kill me if I took her home with a kitten.”

  “How about a puppy? I just got in a little dalmatian.”

  “A dalmatian?” Lexie’s ears perked. “You gots a dalmatian?”

  “Right over there.” The saleswoman pointed to a wall of glass kennels.

  Lexie gently put the kitten back into the pen and moved toward the kennels. The glass cubicles were empty except for the dalmatian, a fat little husky asleep on its back, and a big rat curled up in a food bowl.

  “What’s that?” Lexie asked as she pointed to the almost hairless rat with the enormous ears.

  “That’s a Chihuahua. He’s a very sweet little dog.”

  John didn’t think it should be allowed to be called a dog. It shook all over, looked pathetic, and gave dogs in general a bad name.

  “Is it cold?” Lexie wondered, and pressed her forehead to the glass.

  “I don’t think so. I try to keep him very warm.”

  “He must be scared.” She placed her hand on the kennel and said, “He misses his mommy.”

  “Oh no,” John said as the memory of wading out into the Pacific to rescue a little fish for her swam across his brain. There was no way he was going to pretend to save that stupid shivering dog. “No, he doesn’t miss his mommy. He likes living here alone. I bet he likes sleeping in his food dish. I bet he’s having a really good dream right now, and he’s shaking because he’s dreaming he’s in a strong wind.”

  “Chihuahuas are a nervous breed,” the saleswoman informed him.

  “Nervous?” John pointed to the dog. “He’s asleep.”

  The woman smiled. “He just needs a little warmth and lovin‘.” Then she turned and walked through a set of swinging doors. A few seconds later the back of the glass kennel opened and a pair of hands reached for the dog curled up in the dish.

  “We need to get going if we want to make the movie in time,” John said too late. The woman returned and shoved the dog into Lexie’s waiting arms.

  “What’s his name?” Lexie asked as she looked down into the beady black eyes staring back at her.

  “He doesn’t have a name,” the woman answered. “His owner gets to name him.”

  The dog’s little pink tongue darted out and licked Lexie’s chin. “He likes me,” she laughed.

  John looked at his watch, anxious to have Lexie and the dog part company. “The movie is going to start. We have to go now.”

  “I’ve already seen it three times,” she said without taking her eyes from the dog. “You’re such a precious darlin‘,” she drawled, sounding amazingly like her mother. “Give me some sugar.”

  “No.” John shook his head, suddenly feeling like a pilot trying to land an airplane on one engine. “Don’t exchange sugar.”

  “He’s stopped shaking.” Lexie rubbed her cheek against the clog’s face and he licked her ear.

  “You’ll have to give him back now.”

  “But he loves me, and I love him. Can’t I keep him?”

  “Oh, no. Your mother would kill me.”

  “She won’t mind.”

  John heard the catch in Lexie’s voice and knelt down beside her. He felt his other engine die with the ground rushing up at him. He had to think up something fast before he crashed. “Yes, she will, but I’ll tell you what. I’ll buy you a turtle and you can keep him at my house, and every time you come over, you can play with him.”

  With the dog curled up happily in her arms, Lexie leaned into John’s chest. “I do
n’t want a turtle. I want little Pongo.”

  “Little Pongo? You can’t name him, Lexie. He’s not yours.”

  Tears welled up in Lexie’s eyes and her chin trembled. “But I love him, and he loves me.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather have a real dog? We can look at real dogs next weekend.”

  She shook her head. “He is a real dog. He’s just really little. He doesn’t have a mommy, and if I leave him here, he’ll miss me really bad.” Her tears spilled over her bottom lashes and she sobbed, “Please, Daddy, let me keep Pongo.”

  John’s heart collided with his ribs and surged up into his throat. He looked into his daughter’s pitifully sad face, and he crashed. He burned. No chance of a reprieve. He was a sucker. She’d called him “Daddy.” He reached for his wallet and surrendered his Visa to the happy saleslady.

  “Okay,” he said, and put his arms around Lexie and pulled her closer. “But your mom is going to kill us.”

  “Really? I can keep Pongo?”

  “I guess so.”

  Her tears increased and she buried her face in his neck. “You’re the best daddy in the whole world,” she wailed, and he felt moisture against his skin. “I’ll be a good girl forever and ever.” Her shoulders shook and the dog shook and John was afraid that he would start shaking, too. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered.

  If he didn’t do something quick, he’d start bawling like Lexie. He’d start bawling like a girl right there in front of the saleswoman. “I love you, too,” he said, then cleared his throat. “We better buy some food.”

  “And you’ll probably need a crate,” the saleslady informed him as she took off with his credit card. “And since he has very little hair, a sweater, too.”

  By the time John loaded Lexie and Pongo and the dog’s accoutrements into the Range Rover, he was almost a thousand dollars lighter. On the way across town toward Bellevue, Lexie chattered up a blue streak and sang lullabies to her dog. But the closer they got to her street, the quieter she became. When John pulled to a stop beside the curb, silence filled the car.

  John helped Lexie out of the vehicle, and neither spoke as they headed up the sidewalk. They stopped beneath the porch light, both staring at the closed door, postponing the moment when they would have to face Georgeanne with the shivering rat in Lexie’s arms.

  “She’s going to be real mad,” Lexie informed him barely above a whisper.

  John felt her small hand grasp his. “Yep. Shit’s gonna hit the fan.”

  Lexie didn’t correct his language. She just nodded and said, “Yep.”

  You can have your career with the Chinooks, or you can have Georgeanne. You can’t have both. He almost laughed. Even if he were to suddenly fall madly in love with Georgeanne, he figured that after tonight, his career was as secure as Fort Knox.

  The door opened and John’s prediction about the fan came to fruition. Georgeanne looked from John to Lexie, then to the shaking dog in Lexie’s arms. “What is that?”

  Lexie kept quiet and let John do the talking. “Uh, we went into a pet store and-”

  “Oh no!” Georgeanne wailed. “You took her to a pet store? She’s not allowed in pet stores. The last time she cried so hard she threw up.”

  “Well, look on the bright side, she didn’t get sick this time.”

  “Bright side?” She pointed to Lexie’s arms and shrieked, “Is that a dawg?”

  “That’s what the saleslady said, but I’m still not convinced.”

  “Take it back.”

  “No, Mommy. Pongo’s mine.”

  “Pongo? You named it already?” She looked at John and her eyes narrowed. “Fine. Pongo can live with John.”

  “I don’t have a yard.”

  “You have a deck. That’s good enough.”

  “He can’t live with Daddy ‘cause I’d only get to see him on the weekends, then I wouldn’t get to train him not to potty on the carpet.”

  “Train whom? Pongo or your daddy.”

  “That’s not funny, Georgie.”

  “I know. Take it back, John.”

  “I wish I could. But the sign by the cash register said all sales are final. I can’t take Pongo back.” He looked at Georgeanne standing there looking as beautiful as always and mad as hell. But for the first time since Cannon Beach, he didn’t want to fight with her. He didn’t want to provoke her any more than he had already. “I’m sorry about this, but Lexie started crying and I couldn’t say no. She named him and cried on my neck and I handed the saleslady my credit card.”

  “Alexandra Mae, get in the house.”

  “Uh-oh,” Lexie said, then tucked her dog, ducked her head, and ran past her mother.

  John moved to follow, but Georgeanne blocked his way. “I have told that child for five years now that she can’t have a pet until she is ten. You take her out for a few hours and she comes home with a hairless dawg.”

  He raised his right hand. “I know, and I’m sorry. I promise I’ll buy all his food, and Lexie and I will take him to all of his puppy obedience classes.”

  “I can pay for his darn food!” Georgeanne raised her palms and pressed her fingers to her brows. She felt as if her head were about to explode. “I’m so angry I can’t see straight.”

  “Would it help if I told you that I bought a puppy book for you to read?”

  “No, John,” she sighed, and dropped her hands. “It wouldn’t help.”

  “I have a little kennel, too.” He took ahold of her wrist and pulled her after him. “I bought a bunch of stuff for him.”

  Georgeanne tried to ignore the leap in her pulse as he towed her along. “What kind of stuff?”

  He opened the back passenger door to the Range Rover and handed her a dog crate about the size of a deep dresser drawer.

  “He’s supposed to stay in that at night so he doesn’t crap on the floor,” he told her, then reached inside the vehicle again. “Here’s a book on training, another on Chihuahuas, and one more”-he paused to read the title-“How to Raise a Dog You Can Live With. I have food, biscuits for his teeth, chew toys, a collar and leash, and a little sweater.”

  “Sweater? Did you buy everything in the store?”

  “Close.” He turned and ducked his head into the car.

  Over the top of the kennel, Georgeanne glanced at John’s rear pockets pointed in her direction. His jeans were faded a light blue in places, and a woven leather belt was threaded though the loops.

  “I know it’s here somewhere,” he said, and she quickly switched her gaze to the back of the four-wheel-drive vehicle. It was filled with huge toy-store bags and a big box labeled Ultimate Hockey.

  “What’s all that?” she asked, motioning toward the back with her head.

  John looked over his shoulder at her. “Just some things Lexie picked out. I don’t have anything for her to do when she comes over to my house, so we bought a few things. I can’t believe how much Barbies cost. I had no idea they were sixty dollars apiece.” He straightened and handed her a tube. “That’s Pongo’s toothpaste.”

  Georgeanne was appalled. “You paid sixty dollars for a Barbie?”

  He shrugged. “Well, when you figure that one came with a poodle, the other with a zebra-print jacket and matching beret, I don’t think I got soaked too badly.”

  He’d been suckered. Within days of ripping open the box, Lexie would have those dolls naked and looking like she’d picked them up at a garage sale. Georgeanne rarely bought Lexie expensive toys. Her daughter didn’t treat them any better than she did her things that were less costly, but mostly, there were a lot of months when Georgeanne couldn’t afford to drop one hundred twenty dollars on two dolls.

  She had a tendency to go a little crazy and spend a lot at Christmas and on birthdays, but she had to budget and set money aside for those occasions. John didn’t. Last month, as their lawyers had hammered out a custody agreement, she’d learned that he made six million a year playing hockey, plus half that much through investments and endorsements. She could
never compete with that.

  She looked into his smiling face and wondered what he was up to. If she wasn’t careful, he would take everything and leave her with nothing but that hairless dog.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Did you want your latte skinny or mocha?”

  Georgeanne asked Mae as she packed the metal filter with espresso.

  “Skinny,” Mae answered without taking her attention from Pongo, who lay curled up crunching on a doggie biscuit. “Damn, that’s pathetic. My cat is bigger than your dog. Bootsie could kick his butt.”

  “Lexie,” Georgeanne called out, “Mae is saying bad things about Pongo again.”

  Lexie walked into the kitchen, shoving her arms through the sleeves of her raincoat. “Don’t say bad things about my dog.” She scowled and grabbed her backpack from the table. “He’s sensitive.” She dropped down on her knees and pushed her face next to the dog’s. “I have to go to school now, I’ll see you later.” The puppy stopped eating his biscuit long enough to lick Lexie’s mouth.

  “Hey now, I’ve told you about that,” Georgeanne scolded as she took a carton of skim milk from the refrigerator. “He has bad habits.”

  Lexie shrugged and stood. “I don’t care. I love him.”

  “Well, I care. Now, you better get over to Amy’s or you’ll miss your ride.”

  Lexie puckered her lips for a kiss good-bye.

  Georgeanne shook her head and walked Lexie to the front door. “I don’t kiss girls who kiss dawgs who lick themselves.” From the entrance she watched Lexie cross the street, then she turned back to the kitchen. “She’s absolutely nuts about that puppy,” she told Mae as she headed toward the espresso machine. “She’s had him five days, and he’s taken over our lives. You should see the little denim vest she’s made for him.”

  “I have something to tell you,” Mae blurted quickly.

  Georgeanne looked over her shoulder at her friend. She’d suspected something was up with Mae. She usually didn’t come by so early for coffee, and she’d been acting a little distant for the past few days. “What is it?”