by Ash Harlow
As much as he hated to back down, he wasn’t prepared to get in a fight over Gable that would quite likely finish up by proving their deepest concerns about his volatility, so he shut his mouth and vowed to continue to work with Doc.
Now that it was over he wanted to bolt from the meeting room, but he could see the impression that would give so he waited until Team Taryn exited, before telling his lawyer he needed a moment alone so that his lawyer left, too. He counted out another minute before following.
The hallway was a clutter of people and the noise, the press of bodies, as entrances and exits were made from other rooms into the same too-small corridor, layered onto the stress of the meeting.
When he saw Taryn come out of the restroom along the corridor he was still amped. She would pass right by him and although the thought gave him a fresh load of adrenaline, he really wanted to speak to her about Gable. Couldn’t she give him one little piece of personal stuff he could take away with him?
“Taryn.”
She stopped, hesitating before the hostility swept over her face. “We’re done, Vince.”
“Please, Taryn, one minute. Tell me how Gable is?” He sounded pathetic.
“She’s doing fine.”
“Fine? Really, is that all you can say?”
“Don’t, Vince.”
Calliope nudged his leg but fuck that, he wanted to see his daughter. “It’s her birthday on Saturday. Can I—”
“Look at you. You’re a mess. All fidgety and uptight. Whatever help you’re getting doesn’t seem to be working. You have a long way to go before I’ll ever allow Gable near you again.”
“Come on, please? We can do better than this.” The heat of his rage engulfed him, at odds with the cool measure he managed to keep in his voice.
“She had nightmares for weeks after your last episode. Are you really so selfish that you’d put her through that again?”
Nightmares? Oh, Jesus. “I had no idea, I’m sorry. Tell Gable I’m sorry.” He wanted to put his fist through the wall, but when Calliope backed up to his legs it seemed the dog sucked the fury from him.
“Is everything okay here?”
Oh, great, the mediator. He managed a nod as Taryn headed for the door. Vince stumbled to the seat beside him and dropped his head into his hands, covering his face as the burning started up in the back of his throat, the telltale pressure building in his nose. Going to cry now, you useless piece of shit? Calliope climbed half into his lap, pushing her head between his hands and began to gently lick his face as a couple of tears slid down his cheek.
Some tension left with the tears and Calliope made a useful foil for his embarrassment, such as it was, in a busy corridor filled with strangers. When he felt a light tap on his arm he finally lifted his head. A young girl stood before him—maybe three or four—close to Gable’s age and because she didn’t resemble her in any way, he could believe she was real. She pointed at Calliope.
“Dog cuddles.”
“Yes, she’s a good dog,” Vince said softly.
The child looked uncertain for a moment before she lifted her hand and offered him the lollipop she’d half eaten. “Don’t be sad, mister.”
Back in the barn for over an hour and that episode in the corridor left him thirsty, with a pounding head, and a need to be alone. Lulah had returned some minutes before and he watched through the window, her hesitation after she dismounted her bike.
His phone alerted him to a text message. With a quick glance he saw Lulah’s message.
Dinner in thirty minutes. K?
He needed a break. That was unquestionable, not negotiable. But she hadn’t come to the door so she hadn’t seen his notice. He picked up the phone to text her when it buzzed again.
…AND NO BREAK!!!
Seemed she had tuned right in today. He returned to his sanding, trying to find the peace and pleasure he usually experienced when doing something creative, but it wasn’t coming so easily today. He decided to tidy his workbench instead, so that he could work on the color scheme for Justice’s trappings. This part he was a little more nervous about. He’d never painted a carousel animal on his own, but now, if he listened carefully, he could hear the rumbling voice of his grandfather explaining color choice, the variation in brush strokes, how to use a stipple brush to pull color together, and most of all, how to have enough patience to take the time to enjoy the process.
His phone buzzed again.
If you don’t come over here pronto, your dinner will be in the dog.
He turned to Calliope. “We’re only staying an hour, so don’t settle in.”
Calliope bounded through the door the moment he opened it and he tried to suck up some of her enthusiasm as she passed by. The rain had arrived, big thick drops hitting the ground with solid determination, and he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up before dashing across the yard. On the porch he copied Calliope in an effort to shake the raindrops off before entering the warm cabin. The food smelled fabulous, and he realized in that first breath that he had skipped lunch and never caught up.
Lulah had the table inside set, even managing to find a few wildflowers for a small jar. “Are you wet? Do you need a towel?”
“No, I’m good. Dinner smells wonderful.”
“I knew you’d regret it if I didn’t bust in on that break-from-life you tried to take. Let’s eat, and you can tell me as much or as little as you’d like about what went on today.”
“I kept Calliope busy today. She had a lot of work to do and performed like a star. I can’t believe she’s that good and we haven’t even finished our training.”
She played with the food on her plate. “I hear Adam’s roped you into giving a speech at the auction to talk about how Calliope helps you.”
“Yeah, no pressure or anything. I’m praying I can hold everything together and manage it. If people there can see what a help Calliope is to me, perhaps they’ll recognize it as a good cause to support.”
When they’d cleaned up from dinner, Lulah called him to sit by the fire again. The rain pelted even harder and the small cabin was cozy. She’d pulled the sofa closer to the blaze.
“Come and sit with me and tell me some more about your day.”
He didn’t want to. If he was honest he should tell her that what he really wanted was to dash back across the yard and sit alone. Being a good companion tonight was all but beyond him. “Well, there’s hope for gaining access to Gable in the future. We have this person assigned to our case, now, and they’ll reassess once my counseling has finished. No guarantees, but I’m hopeful.”
“It’s a big step forward, Vince.”
Her Nordic-blonde hair was tucked behind her ears. She looked fantastic sitting there, her gaze on the fire, knees gathered up to her chin, sipping from her glass of wine. They sat for a while, like this, rain pelting on the roof, the warm, soft firelight all around them.
“I feel you watching me, hot guy.”
“I might carve you, Lulah. You will be my Galatea.”
“And you, Vince, will be my Pygmalion, and I shall speak adoring words to my loving creator.”
“Oh?”
“If you make me beautiful enough, yes, although I expect even you will find it impossible to improve on perfection.”
He shifted up close and took hold of her chin between his thumb and the crook of his forefinger, turning her head slowly towards him and back again, taking time to study her profile. “I shall probably carve you exactly as you are,” he said, releasing her.
“No. Don’t do that. Give me eight more vertical inches and a D-sized cup.”
“But I like you as my perfect imp.”
“And what would my pose be?”
“Reclining, on your back like this.” He gripped her ankles and swung her around so that she lay full-length on the sofa.
She gave him a small smile and an easy whisper. “Vince, this is the moment you’re supposed to shower me with kisses.”
“Careful now, imp, you might
end up with more than you bargained for.”
As she lay on her back along the cushions he noted the rise and fall of her breath, her heels resting in two heated points on his thighs. The socks she wore were black with red toes and heel pads, and bore a white angel motif on the outside of the ankle and an extremely wicked red devil on the inside. Vince took one heel and turned her foot each way, examining the socks. “Both sides of Lulah?”
“Yeah, but only one comes out to play at any time. Tonight, you choose which one.”
Did she really mean that? And how could he choose? He wanted all of her. The angel, who saw his pain and tried not to take it away from him, but rather stood beside him to help him fight his way through it. And the devil. The part of her that made a bonfire of all the things she knew to be right, and knew to be good for herself—things like his insecurities and unreliability—and lit the match, setting them both free in the blaze.
“Both.” He took hold of one ankle in a firm grip and with his free hand pulled off a sock by the toe. “Let me examine your foot.”
When he had it exposed she wriggled her toes at him. “Hello, Mr. UHT Guy.”
He silenced her with the way he captured her toes. “Ticklish here?”
“Oh, God, what are you doing? Don’t tickle me.”
“I’m intelligence gathering. I’ll add ‘hates being tickled’ to my arsenal. What about the other foot?” He swiftly removed the remaining sock. “Is that ticklish, too?”
“Yeah, and it kicks like a mule with a hornet’s nest under its tail. You’ve been warned.”
He smiled and gave her foot a squeeze and watched the pale indentation in her skin he’d made with his thumb return to that soft pink when he released the pressure. What would she do if he placed his mouth over that spot, tickled it with his tongue and grazed it with his teeth? Would she pull back, or would she sink into the cushions and encourage him to go on? That’s where he wanted to start, at her feet. But maybe Taryn was right when she said his wants were selfish.
He reached down for one sock, discarded alongside the sofa and slipped it onto her foot. “I’d give my heart to stay here with you, but I can’t.” He stood and without another glance at her, thanked her for dinner, and called Calliope to his side.
Chapter Twenty
At the park, Lulah waited while the students for her dog training class drifted in. Tonight was the second session of the free six-class course she and Marlo took turns to teach each week for the community.
The classes had a double-win effect because better-behaved dogs were less likely to be given up or abandoned. The new entrant filling out the enrollment form was a classic case.
Lulah held her dog, Buster, a large, goofy, mix-breed who would most likely become a great companion once he stopped launching himself into the face of every human and animal within reach. The young woman contacted the Sanctuary because the dog drove everyone nuts, and she wanted to surrender or rehome him.
In these situations, whoever took the call at the Sanctuary was schooled in assessing the situation and, if appropriate, encouraging the person wishing to give up the animal to bring it along to one of their community dog-training courses. Frequently, once the human and dog were taught how to communicate, and the dog’s boundaries set, it was possible to get a happily-ever-after situation going on.
Lulah took the completed form and handed over Buster’s leash. “Wait while I have a quick read through your form, and—” Oh, holy hell, that name. It couldn’t be. She stole a closer look at the woman who appeared to be about the same age, maybe a little older than Lulah. Long dark hair, cute figure, alert brown eyes that were matching Lulah’s gaze with similar curiosity.
The name on the form said Taryn Marr.
What were the chances there were two women named Taryn Marr in the county? Probably not as great as the likelihood that fate put Vince’s ex-wife in her dog training class. Somewhere there was a funny side to this, and she hoped that once Vince found out he would see that, too.
She dipped back to the form, keeping her eyes on it as she talked. “Let’s see. Buster needs basic life skills training. Is there just the one child at home?”
Taryn told her about Gable and Buster—how, even though they got along well, the dog was a disaster when other people came to the house—but Lulah only half listened. Not because Taryn’s gripe with the dog was a story she’d heard so often that she didn’t need to hear it again. She used the moment to try and work out when, if ever, she should tell Taryn that she knew Vince.
In seconds she decided it would be best to tell her, because it was highly likely Mike would finish the service dog training day by bringing them to the park when Lulah’s class neared its end.
They had decided it would be a good opportunity to give the vets some practice working around strange dogs in a more ‘real-life’ situation.
Except, now there was Taryn, and the situation seemed likely to be a bit too ‘real-life’ for Vince.
Taryn stopped speaking and Lulah caught her frown. “I’m sorry, I am listening, and I’m checking your form at the same time.”
“I didn’t want a dog in the first place…”
Here we go. “Don’t tell me—a well-meaning friend thought a puppy exactly what you needed.”
“I have an ex-husband. He’s difficult, and my partner thought I’d be safer with a dog around the house.”
“Safer? You don’t seriously believe Vince would—”
Total crap. There goes the cat, right out of the bag.
Taryn’s expression rocketed from puzzled to pissed. “Excuse me? You know my ex?”
Even though she knew it was inappropriate, Lulah laughed. “It would seem so.”
“And this is funny?”
“No, more awkward, really. Listen, Taryn, I’m not laughing at you, but you have to admit this is pretty weird and kind of funny.”
Lulah called to the class, telling them she’d be with them shortly, before she maneuvered Taryn out of earshot of the group. “Vince volunteers at the Dog Sanctuary you phoned to rehome Buster. He and I, we’re friends, okay? And that friendship has no bearing on my ability to help you and Buster come to an agreement about jumping all over guests, stealing food, or chewing Aunt Petunia’s antique rug. So let’s both button our big-girl blouses and have a bit of fun with Buster and the rest of the group.”
Taryn looked wholly unconvinced.
“Come on.” Lulah turned her back and started walking. The trick worked well with animals, to encourage them to follow you, and, as it turned out, with most people too. “And you should bring Gable with you next time, too. Kids are great at learning this stuff.”
“She’s only four.”
“Perfect age.” Lulah was nearly back at the group, and, Taryn only a few steps behind. Now she wrangled the cattle in her head that churned up a disturbing kind of dust storm. She needed that dust to settle and coat the stuff her imagination dished up like Vince and Taryn in love, kissing, marriage. Where the hell did all that come from?
She started the class by going over what they’d learned the previous week, then spent some time with Taryn, who was not only a week behind but in serious need of assistance. By halfway through the class most in the group were making good progress, and to their credit, Taryn and Buster had almost caught up to what the others were doing.
Lulah started to enjoy herself because they were a keen bunch, both the students and the dogs, soaking up everything she could give them. However, tonight it seemed fate was having a riot of a time because, right across the park, Lulah could see Mike working with the service dogs.
And the Vets.
And although a substantial amount of park ground separated them, they appeared to be heading her way. She cast her gaze around the group of eight who made up her class. Seven of them were fine, but Taryn’s appearance in the group would cause a lot of grief.
As if at the sly bidding of some devious dog-demon—or maybe because fate hadn’t quite finished her comedy ro
utine—Buster broke free from Taryn and zoned right in on the approaching group.
In the following seconds, with the words of warning scarcely formed in Lulah’s mouth, Taryn did what most inexperienced dog owners did. She chased the dog, hollering at him in a manner which said to the dog, game on.
“Taryn, stop. Don’t shout at him and don’t chase him.” Treat every disaster as a training opportunity is great advice until you add in the outside influences. God, she had to give a lesson when what she’d hoped to do was hide Taryn and Buster from sight.
Instructing the rest of the group to concentrate on keeping their dogs in a calm down-stay, she followed Taryn across the park. She tried to make Taryn stop without drawing attention to herself, but shouting in a whisper wasn’t working. By the time they were within fifty yards of the service dog group, Buster circled them, rushing up and doing play-bows, barking, trying out all of his moves to elicit play from the other dogs.
“Taryn, you need to stop.” Lulah repeated herself several times before Taryn finally paused. “I want you to stay still and quiet. In a moment I’m going to whistle to attract Buster’s attention. He should turn towards the sound so when you hear me whistle, start running away. Don’t face him or look at him. Hopefully, Buster won’t be able to stand being not only ignored by you, but the fact that you’re departing, and he’ll chase you.”
Beyond Taryn, Lulah could see four men advancing, three dogs on long leashes and Buster, who slowed a little, puzzled by the lack of response from the other dogs. Lulah let out a shrill, ear-piercing whistle to attract Buster’s attention, and told Taryn to start running.
The hell with this being a training opportunity, she had to move Taryn and Buster away from that group of guys as fast and efficiently as she could. The men were slowing down, giving her and Taryn a better chance to catch the loose dog.
