Summer Love Puppy: The Hart Family (Have A Hart Book 6)

by Rachelle Ayala

  “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, baby.” She kissed Cedar and attached her leash to take her out on a walk. “You’re the only way for me to have a little bit of him—the only link.”

  It wasn’t as if Cedar’s owner had looked all that hard for her. He’d given up way too easily—treated it too cavalierly, the same way he’d stomped over her heart and brushed her off like ashes off his helmet.

  Chapter Seven

  Grady spent the rest of the week on his patch of mountain high above the town where his cabin had burned down. He rented a small Bobcat for grading, digging, and backfilling. The first step was to level the ground and compact the soil so he could rebuild the foundation.

  This time, he would build a bigger cabin, one that would give him more space—three bedrooms and two bathrooms on the ground floor and a loft with two sleeping areas up top.

  He would fell logs from his property as well as purchase them from his neighbors. Both the exterior walls and interior ones would be made of logs, and he would make the foundation from mortared stone.

  He spent two days grading and digging the trenches for the foundation, then returned to town.

  Two days of fresh air and hard work had cleared his mind—especially since he’d left his phone turned off.

  Silence was golden, especially when he was about to go to battle and possibly bed with Linx Colson. He needed the respite from all chatter and talk.

  He parked in the center of the town across from the square and founder’s statue—one of Linx’s ancestors—and checked his cell phone.

  His sister, Cait, had called, saying she was en route to his parents’ cabin a few miles away on the other side of town. His mother and Jenna had called to check how he was doing, and the therapist who worked with him had left a message asking about the dog for the female veteran.

  Linx said she had one. Should he go to her? Or find the dog at another rescue center? It depended on how many times Linx had texted him—how much she needed him.

  Licking his lips, he checked his text messages and grinned.

  She’d left him three in a row.

  The first text said, Friday, two in the afternoon. Park under the large oak. Room five.

  Since he hadn’t answered, she texted him a few hours later. Don’t tell me you have no signal.

  A day later, she got more demanding. Are you ignoring me? You want the dog or not?

  He shut off his phone. He’d be there, but she didn’t have to know.

  Friday afternoon, Linx checked her text messages before loading Sam into the tailgate area of her Dodge Durango SUV.

  Nothing from Grady.

  Did he or didn’t he want this dog?

  Oh, sure, he’d emailed Tami and had sent in his application. The therapist he worked with from the Veteran’s Administration was above board, and she was also a certified dog trainer for therapy and service dogs.

  The veteran who needed Sam had grown up with dogs when she was a child, but after her experience in Afghanistan, she became agoraphobic—afraid of leaving her house. She habitually needed to clear every room she entered, look in all the closets, under the bed and behind the drapes, and she would only sleep with furniture barred across her doors.

  Linx didn’t like it, but Tami convinced her to try it, at least this one time, and if it worked out, they could expand the network of forever homes for their guests.

  “Let’s hope he shows up,” Linx said to Sam as he jumped into the SUV. The dog gave her a doleful look, circled around the tailgate area three times, then lay down with his head on his paws.

  Poor thing was still reeling from being given up, and now, he was in for another change. But a German Shepherd pitbull would be hard to place, so this was his best bet.

  She got into the driver’s seat and bounced her Durango over the rutted country lane until it merged onto the asphalt road.

  She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted from Grady Hart—an apology would be nice, but probably not forthcoming.

  Maybe it was an acknowledgment that he’d crossed paths with her before, instead of acting like she was a complete stranger.

  “He knows what he did to me,” she muttered as she sped down the hairpin turns of the mountain road.

  Their paths had more than crossed before, more like tangled in a mess of arms and legs crossed. She’d fought fires since she was sixteen, working her way up the ladder until she’d earned a spot to train for smokejumping.

  Grady was her instructor.

  The spark was immediate, and they’d held out for a week. By the second week, they were actively flirting, stole kisses and touches the third week, and were sleeping together the fourth.

  No one had known, because Grady was harder on her than he was on any of the other rookies. He ragged on her, rode on her, picked on her, and made her do all the worst drills under the worst conditions.

  But behind closed doors, he’d made her body hum and trill like the whip and snap of a raging wildfire. And silly her, at age nineteen, she’d thought she’d snagged herself a real winner—a man she could bring home and play house with.

  She passed a slow-moving Prius and let herself indulge—just while she drove, of Grady’s dark masculinity, the tough alpha covered in soot and blood, charging toward blistering firestorms armed with a chainsaw. He’d been hard on her, on all of the rookies, but he’d also been fiercely protective, and surprisingly gentle. Like that time her roommate, Salem, had caught a flying firebrand in her leg. Grady had dropped everything to tend to her. He’d held her still while another crew member yanked the burning stick, then padded up the wound and cared for her until the Medevac appeared.

  And then there were the more intimate moments, when Linx imagined she’d gotten behind that big, tough-guy wall, and he’d let down his guard and made love to her—so tender and yet raging, like a man possessed.

  Wrapped in those big arms of his, she’d felt desirable and special for the first time in her pathetic life, and she’d let the entire torrent of his power, his wildness, and his basic goodness flood into her naïve heart.

  Stupid of her, wasn’t it?

  Now, he was here—back in her hometown of all places. And he was tantalizing her, hiding their past from both of their families. And she couldn’t let it go—not until she’d gotten the answers she needed.

  Navigating the mountain roads with ease, Linx stroked an idle hand through her straight, silky hair. He used to wake her by petting her, smoothing his rough fingers through her hair, twirling it around and reeling her in for kisses and caresses. He’d whisper in her ear, hot breath fanning embers into sparks, and she’d turn to him, sleepy-eyed, and gaze into those deep brown eyes, certain that she was cherished, nurtured, and loved.

  Mornings had always been the most vulnerable of all times, and it was in those dimly lit moments that she’d glimpsed forever—until it was over.

  Linx swallowed at the devastation of unanswered calls, ignored texts, returned letters, and the weeks and months of waiting as her mornings turned into nausea and the baby in her belly grew.

  She’d needed to make a decision—needed an indication from him, anything, that he’d take responsibility, or in her wildest fantasies, swoop into town and take her away to a mountain lodge where they’d live happily ever after.

  When he finally contacted her, he’d told her he didn’t believe it was his, and not to contact him again.

  He’d left her no choice.

  Linx swiped a stray tear and fortified herself for the meeting with her nemesis as she swung her SUV onto the interstate and jammed her foot on the accelerator.

  She made good time and checked into the Roadside Inn fifteen minutes before two. Her room faced away from the office, so it was easy to sneak Sam in. She set a bowl of dogfood for him in the bathroom, and he sniffed around the room, but didn’t jump on the bed.

  After a bit of exploring, he made himself comfortable on the bath mat, watching Linx fix her makeup and dab perfume behind her ears.

/>   At exactly two on the dot, a knock sounded at her door. Linx preened her hair and eyed the peephole. A smile crept to her face as she shut Sam in the bathroom before opening the door to Grady Hart.

  “You came.” She tried to sound bored, but utterly failed. The spark that had always burned between them popped like a nest of burning pinecones, fanning flames up her face.

  “Are you surprised?” He barged into the room and shut the door, then cupped her head with both of his hands, drilling a deep, tongue-tangling kiss that made her knees turn to jelly.

  Moaning, she sucked on his lips and wound her hands around his strong neck, over his shoulders roped with muscles, hard and hot.

  Did she want to talk? To get her answers, or should she let him spear her through and through?

  But what about the answers she owed him? Was he even curious or the least bit interested in what had happened to her after he dropped off the scene?

  She bit back a moan when his grizzled beard shadow trailed down from her lips to her neck, lighting every greedy nerve in its path. Oh, Grady. So unfair. He knew all the pathways to pleasure on her body, and she was helpless as she let the tangles of emotion ignite through her hot, needy body.

  Closing her eyes, she harkened back to the base camp, to the utter exhaustion after a firefight, the sticky soot, the searing heat, and choking smoke, soothed by cascades of cool clear water, as they soaped each other and celebrated the aftermath of a successful fight.

  She might not want to talk, but she wanted an apology before he picked her up and smashed her on the mattress and pounded that desperately empty place inside of her, a void only he, Grady Hart, could ever hope to fill.

  As he bent lower and looped one arm behind her thighs, she drew in a harsh breath and willed her arms to push back.

  He lifted a puzzled eyebrow, his deep mesmerizing gaze weakening her resolve and melting the last bit of ice from her veins.

  “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he muttered with that low, growly voice of his.

  “No, don’t stop, but …” Her heart banged against her ribcage. “Do you have anything to say to me?”

  “Nope. Do you?”

  His expression challenged her and irritated her, and his narrowed eyes accused her of being the liar.

  She jutted out her lower lip and crossed her arms over her heaving chest. “Nothing.”

  “If you aren’t asking me to stop …” He dived for her lips, and she couldn’t smother the moan of anticipated pleasure as her body thrilled at his attack.

  Fine. She’d dodged the bullet, for now. He didn’t seem to want answers from her, at least not yet, and she wasn’t going to offer unless he came prepared to acknowledge his role in her misery.

  He turned up the heat, lifting her from her feet and laying her down on the bed with such excruciating sweetness that it brought tears to her eyes.

  The man was a living contradiction.

  “You okay?” His eyes held a concentration of desire as he lighted his lips to her cheek.

  She managed to nod, knowing he still harbored accusations against her, but not willing to explain until he was ready to eat crow.

  “Hold me, Grady, the way you used to.”

  He wrapped her in warmth, trailing his fingers through her hair, and smoothing his palm on her back, calming her, but at the same time stoking the flames.

  She opened her mouth and let out a sigh, of desire, and heartache, then welcomed him in, drinking of that essential male touch, the branding of his tongue, the taste of his strength, the grasp of his protectiveness.

  He was trouble—big trouble, but she’d hungered for him all these years, wondering if she’d ever have the chance to set things straight—to make him pay.

  She hated that she was all warm and soft and aching for him, but at the same time, the firestorm inside of her broiled over, as she grazed her fingers over his rock hard body.

  He rose and dragged her tank top over her head, exposing her bare chest, and in a single motion, shrugged off his shirt.

  Hooded eyes filled with lust gazed down on her, and he licked his lips.

  “It’s always been you.” He shook his head, almost regretfully. “Always been you.”

  What did he expect her to say when he got all hot and romantic like that—so unlike his usual demeanor?

  It was better not to talk, better to get naked and press skin against skin.

  Linx pounced at Grady, knocking him onto his back. Snarling, she whipped her head around to get her long hair off her face as she yanked his jeans, along with his boxers to his ankles.

  Their gazes locked, and fury swirled deep inside of her as she gave herself over to her wicked desires.

  Chapter Eight

  Grady was helpless at the pleasure surging through his veins and the hot, fiery woman taking him into her hands.

  What the heck was he doing? More like she was doing him, and he hadn’t gotten a single, cotton-picking answer from her.

  When she’d asked if he wanted to talk, he’d said no. She, not he, was the one who should be begging to talk. She was the one who’d level those false accusations on him—tried to get him fired and ruin his reputation. He should be the one demanding answers.

  But then again, she’d only lie. No, much better to get her while she was vulnerable, and then she’d admit she’d lied and maybe beg for forgiveness. Not that he had any to offer.

  “Is this all you want?” he asked, gritting his teeth to keep from falling apart—way too soon.

  “Does it matter?” She bore down on him, gripping him tight.

  “No, guess not.”

  He wasn’t going to admit any need to her. No way. If all she wanted was his body, then he’d give it to her. He’d had other women, but the only one who left him raw and disturbed was this brown-haired, brown-eyed hellcat occupying every nook and cranny of his mind and sucking the oxygen out like a river of flames devouring the wilderness.

  Problem was, after meeting her again last Christmas, he hadn’t wanted any other woman—actually wanted nothing to do with the entire female sex.

  What the heck was he doing here?

  She was lovely. Lovely and forbidding like a vengeful goddess. Bent on seeking her own pleasure first. Selfish and so freaking spiteful, but he wouldn’t have her any other way.

  This pillar of womanhood, this inferno of feminine guile was right where he wanted her.

  If he could break through to her—break her stubborn will—if only to admit her feelings and faults …

  “Grady, oh, Grady, why? Why?” she cried out as she neared completion, carrying him over the top with her.

  He wasn’t done with her, so he flipped her onto her back and stared into her gorgeous, but usually shielded eyes.

  For a split second, he thought he glimpsed a crack in her face—a small shadow of regret or was it sorrow?

  And then it was gone.

  She shoved him from the bed. “Time’s up.”

  What the eff? She was harder than nails and just as mean.

  What had he expected? A cuddle and a warm shower with an ice cold glass of sweet tea after?

  “Don’t worry, I’m out of here,” he grumbled, grabbing his boxers, but not before tying off the used condom and putting it into his pocket.

  He’d learned long ago to be careful with his DNA, and the minx who was pushing him out of bed was one of the worst offenders when it came to false pregnancy scares.

  “How about we do this again next week? That is, if you want another dog.” She pulled the sheets primly over her body, the one he’d thoroughly mounted only a few moments ago.

  “There are other rescue centers,” Grady said, zipping up his jeans. “You’re not the only one.”

  He wasn’t about to let Linx put a spell on him, especially after what had just gone down.

  “Your loss.” She leaned back on the motel’s plush pillows, looking as if she was having a smoke without a cigarette.

  Sure, he’d put that smug, satisfied expres
sion on her face.

  He had to be careful with her, as he was with all women. They couldn’t be trusted as far as he could shoot his wad. He’d had his fair share of fake paternity suits before, all because he was a traveling smokejumper, fighting forest fires worldwide, and too busy to show up in court—an easy mark.

  Thank goodness for DNA testing.

  Grady gave Linx a middle-fingered salute and grabbed his shirt and shoes. “The dog?”

  He’d heard him scratching the bathroom door while they had been engaged in their bout of sin.

  “He’s all yours. Paperwork’s in order.” Her face hardened into a frown. “Better treat him right.”

  “Better than you locking him in the bathroom while you get your jollies.” He shot a glare back at her still tempting body.

  Gritting his teeth, he slipped on his shirt and shoes, took the large dog by the collar, and sauntered out the motel door without looking back. He should go and keep on going. Forget about her.

  The problem was all him, and he couldn’t even blame his misbehaving body part—although Mr. Perfect was only too happy to play along.

  Nope, the effing thing was his brain and the endless erotic movie it played in his mind, over and over, again and again—a twenty-four hour nonstop channel of the Linx Colson Peep Show. Then there was the Linx Colson News Hour where her voice would loop over everything she told him about her business, her likes and her dislikes, her opinions and her peeves—she had a lot of them. Followed by the Linx Colson Weather Channel, as she went from angry gust, to howling tornado, to torrential downpour in a blink of an eye. No Linx Colson Comedy Hour, though. That woman had no funny bone anywhere in her body. Not anymore.

  Her scent hung heavy on his body, and he briefly closed his eyes as he stepped into the heat of the afternoon.

  When had she become so hard?

  She no longer smiled or joked around, and definitely didn’t want after-sex cuddling and teasing like she did seven long years ago.

  That was when she still liked him.