Yes, plans changed, but not all of life’s surprises were bad, she mused, even when they might seem that way when they first hit so hard you couldn’t breathe.
She tipped her head back to feel the early morning sun, closing her eyes, listening to the birds and breeze and Christian’s playful chatter. If only he talked to other people the way he talked to himself.
She stole a peek to see where he was, finding him on the top platform. He took a few steps and tripped, grabbing the railing and making her jump up to be sure he hadn’t hurt himself.
“Be careful up there,” she called.
“This thing is sticking up!” He tapped his foot on what looked like a loose board.
“Then stay off the top level, Christian.”
He made a face. “This is the lookout tower, Mommy. It’s the best place to see.” He cupped his hands into the shape of a telescope and turned slowly to scan the “waters” around his ship.
“Christian, I don’t like the top level if a board is loose. Until it’s fixed, come down to the lower level.”
“I can fix it. Do you have a nail?”
She laughed softly. “Not on me. You can still play one level down.”
Making a face, he scooted to the ladder, came down, and resumed his lookout position, clearly not quite as happy as he’d been at the top. Still, he was in a great mood today, thanks to a peaceful night’s sleep uninterrupted by the nightmares that had plagued him on and off for two years. And there wasn’t another kid in sight, which, sadly, put Christian right in the middle of his comfort zone.
Christian had never been a super-outgoing child, but his bashfulness had been precious as a baby and toddler. When Jeff came back from Europe, Christian had been almost four, and the best part of that year of living with Jeff was seeing Christian come out of his shell. Then the unthinkable…his daddy was dead.
He didn’t understand that daddies could die, but he understood that the man in his life was gone, that the piggyback rides to bed were over, that, unlike other trips Jeff frequently took, this time he wasn’t ever coming back.
“Ahoy, matey, I see a spy!” he called out, pointing ahead. “Mommy, look!”
She smiled and waved in his direction. “You keep an eye on the spy, Captain.”
“No, Mommy. A spy and a really big dog. At our house. Look.”
His pretend-pirate voice was completely replaced by his high-pitched child’s tone, with an underscore of seriousness. Andi instantly turned and followed his gaze across the boulevard that separated her side-street row of brownstones from the square. From her vantage point, she could see her three-story home on the corner and, at the bottom of the steps that led up to her front door, a man and a dog.
Instantly, a shot of adrenaline, hope, and a little horror ricocheted through her at the sight of Liam Kilcannon and one of his watchdog German shepherds. An involuntary shudder rippled through her as she stood to walk closer to get a better look. Yep, it was Liam. She’d recognize those shoulders anywhere.
Liam was as still as the dog, looking up the three stone steps to her door. After a moment, he walked up the stairs, rang her bell, and stayed still and strong, like the steadfast Marine he’d been.
What the heck was he doing ringing her doorbell at eight thirty on a Sunday morning? With a dog?
But deep inside, she knew exactly what he was doing there. And why he had a dog.
Oh, Daniel Kilcannon. The Dogfather did not take no for an answer. She took a few steps toward the edge of the playground, watching Liam wait for a response to the ringing doorbell that, of course, wouldn’t come.
Would he be disappointed? Try again? Call her? Leave a note?
For a moment, he did nothing, as if he was running through the same litany of possibilities.
And what should she do? While the road that separated the residences from Bushrod Square was usually busy, traffic was light on a Sunday morning, and he’d hear her if she called to him. And then what? He shifted from one foot to the other, his broad shoulders rising and falling with what she imagined was a frustrated sigh.
Was he doing this as a favor to his father? Because he cared about her? Wanted to take her up on that offer she’d foolishly made right here in this square a couple months ago?
Even at this distance, it was no damn wonder why she’d practically begged for sex that night. Liam Kilcannon was like a six-course gourmet meal to a woman who’d subsisted on bread and water for two years.
Christian suddenly screeched, his attention no longer on the “spy” but on another pretend pirate. The sound carried and made Liam turn toward Bushrod Square.
She couldn’t exactly hide now. She lifted a hand in acknowledgment and watched him draw back, ever so slightly. She had an impact on him, and knowing that gave her a heady rush. Along with a reminder that toying with Liam Kilcannon’s feelings simply because she needed a physical release would be wrong.
Nothing had changed since that night.
He said something to the dog, moved the leash a centimeter, and, of course, the animal responded with the kind of military precision Liam expected from his trainees.
Both of them were headed right to the square now.
Only then did Andi realize her heart was beating a little too fast and her palms suddenly felt damp. She brushed hair off her face, aware that she’d skipped even cursory makeup this morning and wore a plain T-shirt and cutoff shorts.
Not that she cared how she looked to Liam, but…yeah, she cared.
“I know that spy,” she called to Christian, watching man and dog cross the street, knowing she had a few minutes until he got to the break in the shrubs and walked to the far-end playground. A few minutes to prepare for the impact of seeing him again. “He’s my friend, Liam. Do you remember him?”
From his lower-level perch, Christian frowned and shook his head. “No.”
Of course not. Christian had been the ripe old age of three when she’d dated Liam, and though he’d been wonderful the few times they’d met, they hadn’t done a lot together. Andi had been testing the waters, still unsure of dating as a single mother, and wham. Before she could slide all the way into that relationship, Jefferson John Scott had upended everything.
Jeff’s own father had died while he was in Europe, and while they hadn’t been particularly close, losing his father had had a profound effect, as if he’d suddenly realized his own mortality. Jeff had said he didn’t want to live separated from his son or, he’d claimed, his son’s mother.
Dating another man when Jeff had moved into her house to be near Christian was too complicated, so she’d broken off the month-old relationship with Liam and made every effort to be a “family” for Christian.
It hadn’t been a perfect year by any stretch, especially since Jeff never really settled into a life with her. They tried to make it work, but it had been difficult. Maybe it had been his father’s death, or that Bitter Bark was a huge letdown after the capitals of Europe, but Jeff never seemed completely happy or relaxed, though he put on a good show of it for Christian.
But, he’d taken off repeatedly for freelance jobs, and when he’d get home, he was short-tempered and preoccupied. She often found him pacing the house in the middle of the night, fighting insomnia.
She suspected it was that very inability to sleep that made him lose control of his car on an icy road in the Blue Ridge Mountains, careening into a ravine two years ago.
Two long and difficult and lonely years, she thought as she finally caught sight of Liam headed toward them along the stone path.
“Ahoy, matey! I see a dog! A big, bad dog!” Christian stood on the play structure, his hand over his eyes, his gaze fixed on the new arrivals.
Really? Because I see a man. A big, good man.
Liam stood six-two with broad shoulders in a plain white T-shirt and faded jeans and moved with the same grace as the animals he trained. His short hair, so dark it qualified as black, gleamed in the morning sun and, even though he was far away, she could
imagine those dark chocolate eyes narrowed as he focused on her.
Every single shriveled-up, lonely hormone hiding in the sad corners of her body woke up, stretched out, and moaned for attention. His attention.
But Andi wanted sex, and Liam wanted strings.
Taking a deep breath and digging for a stability she didn’t quite feel, she started walking toward Liam to greet him. He slowed his gait, and his big German shepherd did, too, no doubt trained to keep perfect time with his master.
“Hey,” she said, coming closer, hating that he looked better and more delicious with each step she took.
“You’re probably wondering what we’re doing hanging out at your house.”
She laughed lightly, stopping a few feet away. “Not at all.” She gestured toward the animal, who instantly dropped to his haunches and sat at perfect attention. “Because that would mean I underestimate the power of your father.”
He laughed, too, a rare, masculine, and genuine laugh that still had the ability to send a shiver down her spine.
Christian squealed as he spun around a pole, making them both turn, and the dog got up and pulled in that direction.
“Jag!” Liam tugged the leash. “Bleib.”
Whatever he’d said, the command worked, and the dog sat back down, giving Liam a quick look.
“So this is one of your special dogs?”
“This is Jag, and he is just about finished with his Schutzhund training,” he said.
“And you brought him here because…”
He lifted a shoulder and angled his head, glancing back at Christian before answering. “My dad told me your house was broken into.”
She knew it. “Liam, I don’t want a dog, and I did tell your father that.”
“Wanting and needing are two different things.” His eyes flickered a little, as if the possible double entendre in that sentence hit him. He looked away, at the playground, where Christian had made his way back up the slide ladder and perched on the top rung, clinging to the bars, watching them talk.
“You need to be safe, Andi.” Christian was too far away to hear their conversation, but she appreciated that Liam kept his voice low.
She wasn’t going to argue. “I appreciate your concern and the fact that you showed up here, but I’m not equipped to own a dog, Liam. I’m out all day, and Christian—”
“Can I pet him, Mommy?”
She hadn’t realized he’d come down the slide and walked toward them, his blue eyes wide with interest and intimidation.
“Of course,” Liam answered for her, immediately crouching down to get on Christian’s level. “His name’s Jag.”
Christian stared at the dog and then Liam, silent.
“And I’m Liam.” He held tight to Jag’s collar, but let the dog approach for a sniff. “I remember your name is Christian.”
He looked from Liam to the dog, up to Andi, and back to the dog. “I like dogs,” he whispered, the words so soft they were nearly carried away on the morning breeze.
Andi’s heart shifted a little. “Mr. Liam said you can pet him, honey.”
He swallowed, frozen, at war with his shyness and desire to get closer, while Andi waged a different internal war. Her battle was with a mother’s instinct to encourage, even push him, but a sixth sense told her he had to start to break through those fears himself.
Liam loosened his hand, and Jag got closer to the boy, poking his nose against Christian’s chest and belly, making them all laugh.
“Setzen, Jag,” Liam ordered, his hand on Jag’s massive head, stroking from the top down the back. The dog sat, but looked alert and waited for the next command. “This is all you do,” he told Christian. “He won’t bite, I promise.”
Christian took one step closer. “He’s big.”
“Very,” Liam agreed. “But he’s really nice to people he likes. Well, people I tell him to like. See?”
Still not quite there, Christian held back. “Can he do tricks?”
Liam chuckled. “He can catch a Frisbee.”
“Really?” His eyes lit as he came a little closer and gave Andi another look, seeking reassurance.
On the other side of Jag, Andi got down, too, and the dog turned to her, barking once, making her suck in a breath and draw back.
“Jag,” Liam said without reacting, still petting him. “He gets distracted, but we’re working on that.”
Petting the dog, Andi was surprised that his fur was an unexpected combination of wiry and soft, a blend of deep honey tan and stark black around his eyes and snout.
“Good dog,” she said.
“Does he roll over and play dead?” Christian asked.
“He doesn’t do those kind of tricks,” Liam explained. “He’s being taught to be a guard dog to protect people he cares about. He answers to special commands in another language.”
Christian’s eyes popped with curiosity.
“I’ll show you,” Liam said as he rose to his feet. He glanced around and grabbed a six-inch branch of the oak tree, snapping it off with ease. “Ready?”
Christian nodded, and Liam got in front of the dog, reaching down to unclip his leash.
“Jag, achtung!”
Instantly, Jag snapped to attention, standing and staring up at Liam.
“Voraus!” He tossed the stick, sending it sailing across the playground, and Jag took off, shooting toward the goal and grabbing it with his teeth.
“Bleib!” Liam shouted, and it was as if Jag still wore a leash. He jerked to a stop, staring across the expanse at Liam, motionless.
“Why doesn’t he bring it back?” Christian asked.
“Because I told him to stop. That’s what bleib means. Now he won’t move unless I tell him to.” Liam waited a few beats, letting them see how obedient his dog was. Then, “Hier!”
And Jag shot off again, bounding toward them and stopping right in front of Liam, holding the stick up between his teeth.
“Good boy,” Liam said, bending over to reward the dog with affection. “Gib laut!”
Jag barked as if answering him.
“What did he say?” Christian asked, mesmerized, as Andi was.
Liam chuckled. “Probably ‘again,’ but I gave him the command to speak.”
His intimidation forgotten, Christian came right up to the dog and put his little hand on the Jag’s mighty forehead. “Down, boy,” he whispered.
Jag didn’t move.
“He’s trained to answer to special words,” Liam explained. “You need to say setzen to him. It sounds like zet-zen. Use your strongest voice.”
Christian studied the dog, visibly working up nerve with little fisted hands and a frown drawing his pale brows together. “Setzen!”
Jag dropped to his haunches, the response delighting Christian. “Good boy!” he said, fluffing his fur and laughing. “Good boy, Jag.”
Liam smiled, rubbing Jag’s head affectionately.
Jag responded with a friendly pant, letting out a tongue the size of a slab of ham.
“How did you make him bark, again?” Christian asked.
“Can you say gib?” Liam asked.
Christian nodded. “Gib.”
“Good, then you say laut, like loud, only it ends in a t sound.”
“Laut,” he repeated.
“Put them together,” Liam instructed.
Christian stared at Jag like he was about to ask for magic. “Gib laut,” he said softly. Jag didn’t do a thing.
“You have to use your command voice,” Liam told him. “You have to make sure he knows you’re in charge.”
Christian laughed a little, the sheer size and obvious strength of Jag making the idea seem crazy.
“You can do it,” Liam encouraged. “Just be strong and loud.”
Nodding, Christian took a step closer. “Gib laut!” he hollered.
Andi’s laugh at Christian’s enthusiasm was drowned out by the deep, low bark of a dog that, she had to admit, would scare anyone. But Christian giggled with del
ight at this new trick.
“Gib laut!” he yelled again and was rewarded with another bark. He laughed from his belly, and Andi and Liam looked at each other, momentarily enjoying his pleasure.
Whoa. Wait a second. This was not supposed to be happening.
“Well, that’s fun,” she said, pushing up and searching for all the reasons she shouldn’t allow Christian to fall for that dog and she shouldn’t be sharing looks with Liam and—
“What else can he do?” Christian asked, holding his little hands together in front of his chest as if he couldn’t contain his excitement. “Can you teach me more of those words, Mr….what was your name again?”
“Liam.” He threw a look at Andi, as if he sensed she was ready to rein in all this fun in the sun.
“Teach me another one, Mr. Liam!” he pleaded.
Andi opened her mouth to argue, but there wasn’t a single thing she could say.
Christian had climbed out of his shell, and nothing in her wanted to stop that progress. It didn’t mean she had to take the dog. It didn’t mean she was dangling any strings that Liam would want to tie. It didn’t mean anything but a few minutes of pleasure at the playground that Christian would talk about all day.
But even as she nodded, she knew it meant something. She just wasn’t sure what.
Chapter Four
This was dangerous territory, and Liam knew it.
This sunny morning at the park. This precious little child. This gorgeous woman who looked all natural and morning soft, her hair a hundred different shades of golden blond pulled back in a sloppy ponytail with a few stray strands around her face.
Very, very dangerous for the man who vowed that no matter what transpired this morning, no matter if she took the dog or sent him packing or told him one more time how lonely she was, he would not fall down the Andi Rivers Slippery Slope to Misery.
Man, he’d have to hang on tight to avoid that particular ride. Because, this moment, sitting in the sun on a park bench, listening to Andi’s sweet laugh and Christian’s “command voice” and Jag’s tireless bark in response, he knew down to his last strand of DNA that he could do this all day. Longer.
And he had to remember, that was the problem with Andrea Rivers. She didn’t do longer.
Leader of the Pack (The Dogfather Book 3) Page 4
