Box Set: Puppy and the Prince

by Nikki Steele

  She shrugged. “Thank the man with the fast car and the unlimited credit card, I say.”

  The words hit a chord—I realized I hadn’t actually thanked Xander yet. It was only because of him that we’d gotten here so fast—that we’d saved Baxter’s life.

  I made my way back into the corridor, wishing the staff a good night. Xander had taken charge of the situation, scooping Baxter into his arms and ordering me into the car. Pulling out his card to pay for the bills. Pushing back meetings, calming me as Baxter went under. A lessor man might have just left me at the door. Or worse, never stopped the car at all.

  I found myself smiling. It was almost like the prince charming I’d been wishing for had actually appeared—Xander was handsome and sexy and charming and… had I said handsome yet? Very handsome, in a way that made my heart beat a funny little skip when I thought about us sitting together in the waiting room, my hand in his.

  Maybe… maybe I should ask his for his number.

  I hesitated. It wasn’t like me to do something like that. And he was from another country—who even knew how long he was here for?

  But he had said he liked my smile. And did it matter how long he stayed? All I was doing was taking a chance to find these things out, right? I grinned, letting my imagination race just briefly to a number of situations where he might see that smile again—or a more cheeky, sultry version of it. If things went a little further than coffee, I wouldn’t be complaining.

  Should I? Could I? I paused before the double doors. My hand flicked to my hair, and then to my shirt, arranging the neckline just a little more to my advantage. I never did things like this! But I was going to do it anyway.

  I took a deep breath and, smiling, pushed through the doors.

  The smile faltered—the waiting room was empty.

  Merde. He was gone.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Why did I wait so long?

  I pushed another spoon of cocoa-crunch into my mouth.

  It was always like this. Too hesitant and too timid to know when to take action.

  I washed it down with a glass of juice.

  Little Miss Hesitant, that’s what they should call me. Too timid to even ask for a phone number until it was too late.

  The thought stayed with me as I washed my dishes, made my bed, then got changed into a frumpy set of tracksuit pants and a sweat-top. Or little Miss Hindsight maybe? That would be a better name. The tagline could be She always knew what to do, just 30 minutes too late.

  All that time spent together in the waiting room. We’d talked about so many things, but not the one thing I should have. I’d been upset about Baxter, sure. But that shouldn’t have stopped me from something even as simple as ‘thank you so much for your help. You’ve been so kind. I’d like to buy you a coffee.’

  Firetruck it. Even hey you with the sexy smile—why don’t you come back to my house and help me relieve some of this tension? would have been better than nothing. Sure I would have been shot down. Sure I would have looked like a fool. But at least then I would have had some closure. All I had now was a missed opportunity and a sour look on my face.

  I sighed, climbing into my car. Next time. Next time something like this happened, I wouldn’t let the chance pass me by.

  * * *

  “I’ll let the vet know that you’ve arrived,” said a busy nurse with arms full of flapping parrot. “Baxter is through the doors and the fifth room on the left. Mr. Wilmont is already there.”

  Mr. Wilmont? It hadn’t been a good night’s sleep—I’d been angry at myself for missing Xander, then angry at myself for thinking about Xander not Baxter, then just plain angry for most of the rest of the night. And each time I’d reached out for my puppy to get some love, I’d realized he wasn’t there, and the cycle would start all over again.

  I paused when I reached Baxter’s room. He was playing tug of war with someone; a man in expensive clothes with dark hair. Could it be? The man laughed, ruffling the dog’s fur, then pushed the tiny dog with strong hands left and right before tugging at a toy held possessively in its jaws. Baxter growled, enjoying the game, hind paws scrabbling for purchase.

  I’d thought I’d never see him again. “Xander?” I asked uncertainly.

  Baxter gave a delighted yip, racing toward me. I bent down, laughing in delight as a tiny ball of white leaped into my arms, covering me in dog kisses. “And hello to you too, buddy!”

  Xander had stood up. “There’s that laugh I missed.”

  Baxter wiggled from my arms and zoomed straight back to his playmate, barking. The man bent down to tussle him on the head. “Good boy Sabre!”

  My eyebrows arched. “Sabre?”

  “I didn’t know his name, so I thought I’d make one up. A good, strong, Alonian name.”

  I laughed. “It’s Baxter. But after your help yesterday… maybe I’ll consider it a middle name.” I looked at the dog, currently running around Xander’s feet, toy in mouth, trying to get his attention. Baxter never liked men. “What did you do to him?”

  He chuckled. “Guess he knows a pushover when he sees one.”

  The vet strode into the room looking at a clipboard. She was a couple of years younger than me, with blonde hair. “Ah, Mr and Mrs Wilmont, I see that you’ve found Baxter.”

  Mr. Wilmont. I almost choked. “Um, we’re not together,” I blurted.

  “Oh.” The vet turned from me, all attention suddenly on Xander. “I apologize,” she said, her eyes telling a different story. She bit her lip, then stood a little taller. “Well, as you can see,” she rested a hand on Xander’s forearm casually, “Baxter seems to be doing just fine; at this age, they’re quite resilient.” She bent down to pat the dog, but he backed away, growling from behind Xander’s legs. Good boy Baxter. A certain puppy in this room was getting a very big bone when he got home.

  The vet looked down at her notes. “You’ll be happy to hear that the ultrasound didn’t show any signs of internal bleeding. It seems in this case the car’s bark was worse than its bite.” She laughed, but was met with silence. “Anyway, I’ve had to suture a couple of the larger wounds—his internal stiches will dissolve in around two weeks.” She looked at Xander again. “You’ll have to bring him in to get the external ones removed in 7-10 days. I’m sorry, what did you say your name was, Mr…?”

  Xander shook the vet’s hand. “Grenouille. Xander Grenouille.”

  “Not the Grenouille?” the vet said with a laugh. “He is meant to be in the US at the moment.” Then her eyes widened. “The black unmarked Amex!”

  What on earth was she going on about?

  Xander smiled politely. “I’m sure there are many people with that last name, ma’am. Thank you once again for looking after Sab… I mean, Baxter.”

  “Anything, anything at all,” the vet said, flustered. Her hand went to her hair. “Maybe we’ll see you again soon?”

  “Perhaps—I’m unsure how long I’m in town for. Right now though, I think we should take Baxter for a well-deserved walk.” He turned to me, taking my elbow. “Mrs Wilmont?”

  The three of us walked out the door.

  * * *

  “For a dog that’s just had surgery, Baxter seems to be doing remarkably well,” I commented as we walked through a nearby park. It had a duck lake in the middle of it, and we were strolling around it as he strained on his leash—there was a flock of geese nearby.

  Xander laughed. “He’s brave, I’ll give him that. Those geese would have him for breakfast.”

  I had a sudden vision of Baxter being chased by the big birds; the world’s most ineffective predator. “He’s lucky the vet said we shouldn’t let him run!”

  We chatted as we walked, Baxter eventually growing bored with the geese and deciding to sniff flowers instead.

  “So what was that all about before?” I asked.

  “I’m sure I have no idea,” said Xander.

  “No seriously, the vet got weird when she mentioned your name. And then you said you didn’t
know how long you were in town for. You’re not famous or something, are you? Am I going to be the most embarrassed woman in the world when I find out you’re on some sort of world tour?”

  He chuckled. “I’m not in a band, if that’s what you’re saying. Though I did play the piano as a kid. Mother insisted.”

  Ooh. Personal details. “So you have family. I take it they’re back in Europe?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. I’ve got relations in almost every country back there.”

  I frowned, sure he was exaggerating.

  “No seriously. My great, great, great grandparents thought the solution to all life’s problems was marrying off their kids to wealthy neighbors.

  “And… your wife?” I asked hesitantly, hating myself for being so obvious. “Is she back in Europe?”

  He shook his head, picking up a stick and throwing it to Baxter. The dog snapped at it, missed, then picked it up and dropped it at Xander’s feet. “My mother has someone in mind, but I’m not married yet.”

  “Oh. Is that why you disappeared last night?” The words came out more spiteful than I’d meant. “I’m so sorry, that came out wrong. You don’t have to tell me that.”

  Xander turned toward me, ignoring Baxter’s whine. “I had a public engagement, that’s all. Talking to you, well, I lost track of time. I didn’t want to leave, but sometimes in my position, there’s no choice.”

  We began walking again. Baxter darted to the end of his leash, stick forgotten, to sniff a nearby tree. So he was going soon. How did I feel about that?

  Xander looked at me sideways. “If it makes you feel any better, I’d been playing with Baxter for two hours before you arrived.”

  “What? Why?”

  He shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I knew at some stage you’d be picking him up. It was the only way I could see you again.”

  There was silence as we walked. Baxter returned to drop a small white object at Xander’s feet. Snout dirty, he sat back, tail wagging proudly.

  “And why would you want to do that?”

  His hand went to his hair. “Actually, I’d like to ask you to dinner tomorrow night.”

  Oh. That was unexpected. All that courage I’d been mustering to ask for his number, then he just comes out and says something like that?

  How did I feel about him going? Who cared what happened tomorrow when the man of my dreams was asking me out today. “Um, that would be nice,” I said quickly.

  I bent down to cover the flush spreading quickly across my face. “Baxter, have you been digging again?” The little dog’s tail began to thump at the attention, paw scrabbling across Xander’s shoes.

  He squatted down beside me, ruffling the pup’s hair. “Looks like a golf ball. Clever boy.” He turned to me. “I’d like to take you somewhere nice. I still feel bad about yesterday, of course, but I really enjoyed getting to know you, too.”

  Oh. So that was why he wanted to take me to dinner. As apology for hitting Baxter. I stood up, my lips forming a sentence that started with ‘no apology is required’ and would end with me eating home alone tomorrow, but paused. I’d wanted a date hadn’t I? Was I going to turn it down just because it wasn’t quite what I’d hoped?

  Baxter started jumping back and forward, trying to get Xander’s attention. He wanted to play. I’d always said my dog was a great judge of character. Maybe I should take his advice and play this game too.

  “Um, what should I wear?” I asked timidly.

  Xander rose to stand beside me, much to Baxter’s disappointment. “I think I’d like to take you somewhere nice. Shall we say formal attire?”

  “Oh.” I cast my eyes down. “I don’t I have anything like that.”

  He dismissed my statement with a wave of his hand. “I’ll send my driver, Richards, around to take you shopping tomorrow morning. It won’t be a problem.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I almost thought it had been a dream when I woke the next morning. A rich, handsome stranger walks into my life and asks me out on a date? I mean, I know it was just an apology for hitting my dog, but-

  Baxter!

  I leapt out of bed, but needn’t have worried. He was sitting by my door, wagging his tale furiously, one shoe held proudly in his tiny little mouth. I leaned down to check his stitches—they were fine—then scanned the room suspiciously for the location of the other shoe. It would be hidden somewhere in the vicinity, or worse, buried. He was going through a phase at the moment—it had cost me more than one pair of slippers already.

  As I looked for the shoe I thought back to my conversation with Xander. The date had to be just an apology thing, didn’t it? I mean, he did say he’d liked talking to me, but that was probably just some European thing, the intent lost in translation.

  I’d been on a couple of dates, on and off, over the last year. I wasn’t a fool. There was always an upper and lower limit to the type of guy someone like me could meet. I’d never date a hobo, but Daniel Craig wasn’t about to come knocking on my door, either.

  Xander was way above my limit. He was too good looking, too wealthy, and too… well, too James Bond. That sort of man didn’t date women like me. That sort of man dated movie stars, and supermodels, and women with breasts bigger than my head. Little, average-old me on my little, average-old salary? The closest I got to someone like that was in a hospital.

  I should call him. Cancel the date. It would be the sensible thing to do, not to get my hopes up. But I was always being so sensible! Sensible, boring Kate, that was me.

  Maybe… maybe it was time to do something different. To be something different. So what if he only wanted to meet because of Baxter? It was still dinner, and he was still hot. It would be something to tell my girlfriends about later.

  “Besides,” I said to myself absently, glancing down at my little dog. “You’ve cost me enough shoes—you owe me this meal.”

  * * *

  True to Xander’s word, a car came to pick me up soon after. It was a black limousine—one of the sedan type models that you sometimes saw world leaders in. Xander didn’t come with it, which was disappointing.

  Baxter raced between my legs and out the door as soon as it arrived.

  “Baxter!” I groaned as he zipped down the path and into the limousine’s open door. Probably thought he was going to the pet store. He always got treats at the pet store.

  The driver, who had been holding the door, raised an eyebrow as Baxter walked across the back seat, sniffing it, then promptly stretched out across the plush leather and lay down.

  “Baxter, get out of there right this minute.” The little devil cocked his head and gave a yip, as if telling me to hurry up and get in. I looked at the driver, who was trying to hide a grin. “I’m so sorry about this.”

  He shook his head. “He’s welcome to come along too if you wish.”

  I looked at Baxter again. He gave me puppy dog eyes back, and my heart melted. “Little bastard’s too cute for his own good. I swear one of these days I’m going to shave him, then see if he gets his own way when he looks like an Egyptian cat!”

  The driver burst out laughing, closing the door after I had squeezed into the tiny space Baxter had decided not to occupy.

  “Sir said we were to get you an outfit for tonight ma’am,” the driver said once the car had started. “Do you have anywhere in particular you would like to go?”

  I thought hard. What exactly did I say to that? I obviously wanted to look good, but I also didn’t want to take advantage of Xander’s generosity. I listed off several midrange stores, but at each one the driver shook his head. “Sir also told me not to take you to any store I didn’t recognize.” The driver looked at me, understanding, I think, my dilemma. “Why don’t we leave the choice of stores to me, and the choice of clothing within it to you?”

  I nodded, sitting back gratefully as we pulled away from the curb. Then I sat forward again quickly. “It was Richards, wasn’t it?”

  Baxter pricked his ears at
the movement.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “And you’re Xander’s driver?”

  He nodded. “I fulfil a variety of roles for His… for Sir when he travels. I’m technically his Butler, but I also perform driving and security details as appropriate.”

  Richards must have been the person Xander called to get the police off our back. “I’m so grateful for what you did for us on the way to the vet.”

  “My pleasure ma’am. I’m glad that the little fellow is feeling better.”

  “Um, so what do I call you? I feel kind of funny calling you by your last name. I don’t want to be rude.”

  He chuckled. “Thank you for your consideration, but in my line of work, last names are standard. My friends call me Rich though. You can too if you wish.”

  “Rich…” I tried it out on my tongue. It felt much better. “Thanks.”

  I leaned forward once more. “Um Rich—what does Xander do? I know I’m going to sound like a stalker when I say this, so please don’t tell him, but I tried googling his name and nothing came up—nothing at all.”

  He chuckled again. “Your search can be our little secret, but it seems his identity will have to be as well—I’m not at liberty to say.” He looked at me in the mirror, choosing his next words carefully. “I will say this though—I’ve known… Mr. Grenouille for a long time now. I’ve never seen him pay this much attention to a dog before. Or its owner, either.”

  * * *

  We cruised through streets lined with high end shops, Baxter breaking the movie-star-in-a-limousine image by standing on his hind legs and barking at every dog we passed. Eventually we pulled into a private parking area at the back of several stores. Richards exited the car quickly, opening my door. “Ma’am.”

  “Seriously Rich, if I’m going to call you by your name, you need to start calling me by mine. It’s Kate.”

  “I’ll try ma’am.”