Zero to Sixty

by Marie Harte

  “Great. Thanks.” He shuffled his feet. “I’ve been thinking about getting some work done.”

  “Yeah?” She walked cautiously around him and exited through the side gate. She continued along the side of the building, back to the lit and populated main sidewalk. Ivy blew out a breath, trying not to feel so relieved.

  “Yeah,” he said, walking next to her. “Name’s Sam.” He stopped to the side, out of the way of the foot traffic, and held out a hand.

  She stopped and took it, to be courteous. The heat in his humongous palm startled her. As did the calluses. She glanced down, and his sleeve rose up his arm, revealing tattoos. A look at his neck showed she’d been right earlier. He had what looked like inked vines and barbed wire creeping up his neck from under that jacket. Wow.

  He let go of her hand slowly, his gaze narrowed on her face.

  He didn’t say anything, and she felt awkward in the silence. “Um, so what do you do, Sam?”

  He tucked his hands in the pockets of his jacket this time. “I’m a mechanic. I work at Webster’s Garage over on Rainier.”

  “Oh, I’ve been by that place. Always seems so busy.” She felt better getting his first name and a place of business. That information made him seem more real and less psycho stalker for some reason.

  “Yeah.” He drew his shoulder blades back into a stretch. Talk about a broad chest. “Sometimes my back feels tight and my hands could use some relief.”

  She nodded, thinking he’d be a challenge to work on. All that muscle had little give. When he continued to stare at her, she took charge of the conversation once more. “Well, I guess I should get home.” Seven thirty on a Thursday night, and she had an eight o’clock appointment in the morning. After she looked for Cookie again.

  “Sure. Right. Oh, one more thing.” He paused. “You haven’t by chance seen a small dog running around? A brown puppy, really cute, skittish? Darker around his muzzle and the tips of his ears?”

  She stared, wide-eyed, both glad and sad he’d come to claim her stray. “You mean Cookie?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Cookie’s what I call him.” She flushed. “The first thing he did when I let him into the shop was steal a cookie. He’s so cute. He looks kind of like a ridgeback mix. Is he yours?”

  “Not exactly. I help some friends foster dogs and cats needing homes, and he’s our latest rescue. But he keeps running away. I’m just glad he found a home.”

  “About that…” She bit her lip, not liking the intensity with which Sam watched her. He made her nervous. Such a big man. And so handsome, she realized, feeling an unwelcome sense of attraction. “Cookie ran away yesterday. I tied him up outside for no more than a few minutes, and he was gone. Wriggled right out of his collar. I looked yesterday but didn’t find him.” She studied Sam, then realized she could use some help if he offered. “I, um, I’d planned to look for him after work tonight.”

  “Right now?”

  She nodded.

  He took his phone out of his pocket, glanced at the time, then sighed as he pocketed it. “Let’s go.”

  What the heck was that sigh about? “If you have something better to do, don’t let me keep you. I can look for him by myself.” She forced a smile. Ivy wasn’t helpless, and she didn’t exactly like the thought of him acting put out because he thought he had to help her find a puppy. “Call if you want some bodywork. You have my card.”

  She turned to leave when he stopped her, a hand on her shoulder.

  “Wait.” He let her go when she turned to face him again. “Sorry. I don’t mean to act like a dick.”

  His blunt words took her aback. “Ah, okay.”

  “I’m tired. It’s been a long day, and I’ve already had to deal with a bad-tempered cat for a friend of mine.” He held out a thick forearm and pulled back his jacket. Cutting through a myriad of tattoos was a scratch several inches long that looked painful. Blood had crusted over it, but it appeared fresh.

  “That has to hurt.”

  He shrugged and pulled his jacket back down. “Cat claws are a bitch, but it’s better than dealing with Willie.”

  “Willie?”

  “Tyrant’s owner.” He shivered. “Old woman is mean as hell. But she’s good with the animals, so I cut her some slack. You ready to hunt down Scruffy? I mean Cookie?”

  He seemed worried, and she thought he might be more attached than he’d let on. “Sure. But I mean it. You don’t have to look for him. I can do it.”

  “No. It’s dark out. Not exactly smart for a hot chick to be on her own in the city. It’s safe, but it’s not that safe.”

  Hot chick? That shouldn’t mean anything, yet she felt warmer because of it. She stared at him, wondering if he realized he’d complimented her.

  “I guess.”

  He nodded to the sidewalk in front of her. “How about we turn down Boston and look for him near the park? I’ve seen him over there playing with other dogs a few times.”

  “You have?”

  They walked down the street and turned right. After a few more blocks, they passed the middle school, heading toward the park bordered by Blaine Street. Despite the late hour, a few parents and children still played on the swings.

  Ivy felt a moment’s envy that her own perfect family didn’t exist and likely never would. She should be glad, really. Imagine if Max had gotten her pregnant the way he’d wanted to when they’d first started dating. All those years supporting him through undergraduate school had been difficult enough. But with a baby on board? Then his leaving her high and dry for law school and that perky blond would have hurt a lot more.

  She should be glad to be strong and independent and single. Who the hell needed a man anyway?

  Someone shouted from the other side of the street, and she started.

  “You okay?” Sam put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from tripping over her own feet.

  She felt safe next to his large presence. “Yeah, wasn’t paying attention.” Then, to prove she really didn’t need a man to protect her or stop her from being clumsy, she stepped away and called out for Cookie. By herself.

  They walked all around the park and deeper into the West Queen Anne neighborhood. Despite Sam still being a stranger, he seemed on the up and up. He called out for the dog. They walked near each other but not too close. She saw him watching her, but when she’d look at him, he appeared to make an effort to seem nonthreatening. Hands in pockets, keeping his distance.

  She found his actions comforting—and charming, oddly enough—because he didn’t seem to be trying to impress her. He’d sworn. Called her a hot chick, and he—

  “Sam.” She pointed to a small moving shadow near a house on the corner of Fourth and Blaine.

  He nodded and raised his voice. “Scruffy. Come.”

  The shadow picked its head up and took a step in their direction.

  “Cookie, come here,” she added and made a few kissy sounds. “Come here, boy.”

  A tiny yip, and then the little guy was bounding toward them. Sam and she crouched low, so as not to threaten him with their size. But Cookie didn’t seem to care. He went to Sam first, his tail wagging and his tongue licking everywhere he could reach.

  Ivy watched Sam’s stern demeanor melt into a smile that stole her breath. When he wasn’t looking so serious or tough, he was…beautiful. His smile reached his eyes, and the joy on his face was infectious.

  She laughed, and Cookie turned to her, half leaping on her with the enthusiasm of a dog three times his size. “Oof.” She fell on her butt but couldn’t stop smiling as she stroked the dirty little dog. “Cookie. Where have you been?”

  “I think he likes Cookie better than Scruffy,” Sam said, sounding gruff. His smile had disappeared, but the happiness in his eyes remained, softening him the tiniest bit.

  “Did you want to take him back to
his foster family?”

  He shook his head. “He’s good with you, I think.” Yet something in the way he petted the dog, the caring way he watched Cookie, told her Sam felt more than just a responsibility to see the puppy settled.

  “I might have jumped ahead of myself,” she admitted. “I felt bad for him so I took him in at work, because I didn’t want him to be cold. Then somehow I bought him a collar and a leash. Some food. Nights at my house. Now he has a dog bed.” She sighed. “But I haven’t exactly explained him to my landlord yet.”

  Sam frowned. “Do you want him or not?”

  “I do.” She surprised herself with that truth. She hadn’t wanted any relationship entanglements since Max. Including a pet. Yet Cookie was so cute, so desperate to be loved. And she finally felt ready to give that back. “But I have to okay it with my landlord.” She felt silly for not having been better prepared. “And I’m not ready to take him full-time yet. I need to figure out when I can have him and how to care for him. I, well, I didn’t exactly let my boss—I mean, my partner—know about him either.”

  Sam studied her. She didn’t know what he saw, but a smirk curled his lips as he helped her to her feet while scooping up the wriggling puppy. “Suckered you into caring for him with those big, brown eyes, didn’t he?”

  She nodded, all the while being suckered into anything Sam said as she stared into his big, gray eyes. Gray-blue, she corrected herself, feeling a sudden connection to the giant man. She put her hand on the dog and somehow found her fingers curled around Sam’s thick biceps as they walked past the park, back toward her car.

  He cleared his throat. “Ah, just so we’re clear, we don’t give dogs away to just anyone who wants them, you know.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean, puppies are popular. We’d have no problem getting him a good home. A friend of mine was asking about this little guy just the other week.”

  She frowned. “I have a good home.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He didn’t seem like he belonged to the typical animal rescue group that made a person sign an oath under God to take a dog. Just a do-gooder wanting to find homes for needy animals. With the amount of strays in need of homes, she’d have thought her word would be good enough.

  She raised a brow. “Who makes that call?”

  “I do.” He seemed to growl the words.

  “You’re not going to charge me a fee or anything are you?” Was this some lame attempt to extort money out of her? But then, he hadn’t known she’d actually had Cookie until he’d asked.

  “Hell no.” He scowled like a thundercloud. “This is about the dog, pure and simple. I’m not out to make a fuckin’ buck.”

  Obviously, he hadn’t decided on her as being suitable yet. Considering they’d just met, that only made sense. But it bothered her to be found lacking in some way.

  She pulled her hand away.

  He sighed. “I know, I’m being a dick again. Sorry.” After a slight pause, he added slowly, “If you want, I can keep him while you figure things out. You think hard about taking care of him, though. It’s a commitment.” He frowned, and she saw a sadness that lingered. “He’s not a toy. You say you’re keeping him, you keep him.”

  “I understand.” She would have taken offense, but Ivy knew how often people turned in pets because they wanted a younger one. A different one.

  A blonder, prettier one.

  She studied Sam, seeing nothing soft about him. Nothing forgiving. They had that in common, at least. “I’d like that. Will you keep him for me?”

  He nodded. “If you’re serious about him.”

  “What? You want it written in blood? I said I am.” He was starting to annoy her. And it took a lot to annoy Ivy.

  Sam didn’t change his expression, but something in the way he looked at her told her she’d amused him. “Okay, relax. I’ll keep the dog at my place. My roommate is never home as it is. And I have an in with my landlady.” He snorted. “She’s too busy to notice a dog anyway. Same with Foley.”

  “Foley?”

  “The roommate.” Sam sighed. “My best friend, kind of.”

  “Oh.” Some backstory there, but they’d reached her car. “Well, um, you have my card, so you know how to reach me. Do you want to give me your number so I can let you know whether I can keep him or not?” Why does this feel like we’re setting up a date? She took her phone out of her purse and punched in the numbers he gave her. “Sam what?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your last name, for my contact list.”

  “Oh. Sam Hamilton.”

  “Okay. I just texted you. It’s a 206 number, and you have my card.”

  Cookie chewed at Sam’s finger, and Sam gently extricated his hand from the dog’s mouth. “My phone’s in my pocket. I’ll text you back when I get in the car.” He paused, staring at her with such intensity she felt uneasy.

  “What?” She rubbed under her eye. Had her mascara run?

  He cleared his throat. “So I’ll call you.” He rubbed the dog’s head, and Cookie looked like he’d gone to heaven. “If you’re not busy tomorrow night, we could grab a beer or something. Talk about plans for Cookie.”

  “Don’t you mean Scruffy?” she teased, trying to play nice, her heart deciding to race like a rabbit chased by greyhounds. Or in Sam’s case, a grizzly.

  “Nah. Cookie sounds much more respectable.” He stroked the dog just as she reached in to do so and accidentally ran over her hand in the process.

  They both froze, then he slid his hand away.

  She hadn’t been out dating in over a year. Before that, she’d been with Max. But she’d never ever been with a guy this intense. Protective, dangerous, handsome. Sexy?

  Since when did Ivy go for the bad-boy type?

  Since I tried my best with the good-boy college guy and got burned badly. Even two years after their split, she held a grudge. It didn’t help that the few guys after Max had been as needy and selfish as her ex-fiancé.

  Sam seemed so different. But I’m not looking for a man, she reminded herself, not wanting to go through that stupid hurt again. A beer and talk of a puppy didn’t mean a date anyway. She needed to relax.

  “So tomorrow night?” he asked again. “It’s no biggie if you can’t make it. We could always do it another time, or not. We can text and email details.” He shrugged. “But I’m gonna need to know more about you before I hand over Cookie.”

  He seemed to be giving her an out. She could send him her answer. He wasn’t pushing her into meeting up with him, so this definitely wasn’t a date. She ignored the disappointment she felt. She didn’t want or need a man. But she sure could use some puppy love. She rubbed Cookie’s belly, and he licked her.

  Her heart welled with need. For the first time in a long time, Ivy wanted to take care of a male again. But this one would give her love back. And he had fur.

  “Actually, I think talk and a beer tomorrow night sounds great. I can use the break.”

  He looked up and weighed her expression. Then those lips that hadn’t smiled but once all night curled into a breath-stealing grin. “It’s a date.”

  Chapter 2

  “I shouldn’t have called it a date. Probably scared her away,” Sam said to the puppy chewing on a bone in the backseat of his pride and joy, a ’74 Challenger. “But man, she was hot. Like, all gorgeous and curvy, kind of tall. Her smile…” He groaned. “Man, those eyes are just so green.” Which had freaked him the hell out. Sam noticed tits and ass. Not pretty eyes and a beautiful smile.

  Weird.

  He glanced at the puppy in the rearview and felt awkward thinking sex thoughts with a baby in the car. Sure it was canine, but still.

  “Never mind. Anyway, quit running away. You’re gonna get hurt.”

  Sam had run away a lot when younger. By all accounts, Louise Hamilton had bee
n—and still was—a shitty mother. But none of those early escapes had ended well. He’d only gone from bad to worse. Still, it was a toss-up as to which had been the real nightmare—living in alleyways with the drunks, stoners, and wackos or living with Louise. His mother had issues. So many issues.

  Then he’d found Foley Sanders.

  He remembered as if it had been yesterday. Just past his eleventh birthday and he’d already been to juvie twice. Social services knew his mother by name, and the principal had affectionately called Sam her “little brawler with a heart of gold.” Still hadn’t saved him from all those after-school detentions, though. Or from getting picked on when the teachers weren’t around.

  Foley had saved him from a major ass kicking after one such detention. Another bully who didn’t like that Sam always wore the same clothes and smelled like stale cigarettes and funk had joined two other kids to pummel Sam into the ground. Then Foley arrived, already big for his age, and opened a huge can of whoop ass. A natural born fighter, his friend. Afterward, Foley had invited him over for dinner, and Sam, not being stupid and always hungry, had agreed.

  They’d been screwing around and having a good time, reminiscing about how Foley had bitch-slapped that creep Joey Lindoney. Eileen had appeared out of nowhere. She’d tapped Foley in the back of the head, then did the same to Sam. “Language, boys,” she’d said. Then she’d forced him to shower and put on some of Foley’s clothes, because a person had to be clean to sit at Eileen’s table. God bless her, she’d fed him.

  Homemade waffles, maple syrup, and sausages. Nothing fancy. Foley joked that his mom always made breakfast for dinner when she was too tired to cook anything else. But Sam had lapped it up like cream. The only things better than Eileen’s food had been Foley’s friendship and having a warm, safe place to sleep when he’d needed it.

  There was nothing he wouldn’t do for the Sanderses.

  He glanced back at Cookie. “Yeah, you got a good thing, boy. Ivy likes you. She’s safe.” He knew how to read the bad in people, and Ivy didn’t have it. She might not be a saint, but she didn’t have an abusive bone in her body. But just because Cookie seemed to like her didn’t mean she wouldn’t break the dog’s heart in the long run.