by Teri Wilson
Ryan shot a questioning glance at Amanda.
“This is Tucker. He’s a little...” aloof, cranky, irritable “...bashful.”
If dogs could roll their eyes, Tucker would have done so right then and there.
Dillon, however, remained glued to the spot as if he’d just spotted his new best friend.
So she relented. “But if you want to pet him, we can give it a try.”
She cast a pleading glance at the dog as she unfastened the lock on the kennel door. Be nice. By some miracle, it worked, because instead of having to bribe him with a cheese cube to walk out of the enclosure, he trotted toward them with an unprecedented spring in his step.
“Tucker is a chiweenie—half Chihuahua, half dachshund.” She gathered the dog into her arms and held him while Dillon gave him a tentative pat on the head.
Tucker was notoriously averse to being touched anywhere other than his back. He usually tried to squirm out of reach, but before she could instruct Dillon on how to pet the picky dog, Tucker closed his eyes and burrowed into his touch.
What was happening?
“Wow, he normally doesn’t like that at all.” It was a fluke. It had to be.
But the more Dillon petted the cantankerous dog, the sweeter Tucker became. He was practically morphing into a marshmallow in her arms.
“Why don’t we go to one of the adoption rooms so you two can spend some quality time together?” She glanced up Ryan. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to force this dog on you or anything, but a cozy place to visit will be nice, don’t you think?”
He nodded without tearing his gaze away from Dillon’s glowing face.
The shelter only had two visitation rooms—one for cats and the other for dogs—and luckily, both were free. As Amanda carried Tucker inside, she whispered into his furry ear, “Whatever has come over you, keep it up. This little boy needs a friend.”
His only response was a twitch of his ear, but when Dillon plopped down cross-legged on the floor, the pup scurried over to him.
“Look at those little legs go,” Ryan said. “I’m guessing he’s a lapdog.”
“Today he is.” Amanda shook her head. “I can’t tell you how unusual this is, though. Tucker is normally pretty standoffish. He’s been adopted out twice, but neither time worked out. He just never seems to bond with anyone.”
Ryan shot her a look as Tucker climbed into Dillon’s lap and curled into a contented ball of fluff.
“He sure seems to like Dillon, though.” She grinned.
Ryan arched a brow. “Why do I have the feeling I’m toast?”
“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to adopt a dog?” Amanda murmured.
Ryan’s mouth curved into a tender smile. He was indeed toast. Tucker might as well as pack his bags. But before Ryan could give her an answer, a winsome, childlike voice broke through the loaded silence.
“Please, Daddy.”
Chapter Six
Ryan’s hands shook so badly that he could barely fill out the Furever Paws adoption application. He was a mess—a stunned, jittery, happy as hell mess.
At last, Dillon had spoken. He couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t heard his son’s voice in nearly a year, and the sound was so sweet, so damned wonderful that he’d nearly fallen to his knees and wept like a baby.
How long had he hoped and prayed for something like this? Weeks...months...and when it finally happened, he’d been so shaken he could only choke out a response.
Yes.
Yes, of course they’d take the dog home. Ryan didn’t have a choice, did he? It was the ultimate reward for the most precious two words he’d ever heard. He’d have adopted every animal in the building if that’s what Dillon had asked him to do.
“Are you okay?” Amanda sat down beside him at the adoption counselor’s desk. The volunteer counselor had moved on to help another potential pet parent since Amanda and the Whitaker sisters had personally vouched for Ryan and Dillon, but there was still a fair amount of paperwork to contend with. “You seem rattled.”
“I am rattled.” His throat clogged, and he swallowed hard. God, was he actually going to cry in front of Amanda Sylvester? Get it together.
“Is there anything I can do to help? Birdie and Bunny are keeping an eye on Dillon right now. They’re positively thrilled that you two are taking Tucker home.” She bit her lip, and for a second Ryan forgot he was in the throes of an emotional turning point and fixated on her mouth. So pretty, so pink.
So undeniably kissable.
He raked a trembling hand through his hair and let out a measured breath.
“Unless you’ve had second thoughts about adopting a dog?” She frowned. “I know that wasn’t your intention when you agreed to stop by.”
“No second thoughts at all. I’ve actually never been so sure about anything in my life. When Dillon spoke just now...” Ryan stared down at the papers in front of him until the letters on the page blended into a teary blur.
Then he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes before meeting Amanda’s concerned gaze head-on. “Sorry, I need to explain. I told you about the difficulties Dillon has been having at school, but you don’t know the extent of it. Dillon hasn’t talked since his mother died last year.”
Amanda’s fingertips fluttered to her throat. “At all?”
“Not a word.” He took another deep breath. “Not until you introduced him to that silly little dog.”
“Oh my God, this is huge.”
He nodded. “Indeed it is. I don’t know the first thing about dogs. I’ve never owned one before—not even as a kid. But yeah, I’m absolutely filling out these adoption papers. I’ll just have to figure out being a dog owner as we go along.”
“I’m so happy for you.” Amanda’s eyes glittered, and the urge to kiss her was almost overwhelming.
For the first time in practically as long as he could remember, Ryan felt like someone was on his side. Even before Maggie had died, he’d always felt more alone than part of a team. Their marriage had been tumultuous from the start, which probably had a lot to do with why he’d become such a workaholic.
But the look in Amanda’s eyes reminded him what it was like to be connected to another person, to know someone genuinely cared. Ryan hadn’t realized quite how much he’d missed feeling that way until now.
“Tucker and Dillon were made for each other,” she continued. “I think it’s meant to be. It kind of makes you believe in fate, doesn’t it?”
Fate.
Is that what this was? Ryan didn’t know, and he was afraid to examine it too closely. Because if fate led Dillon to Tucker, he might be tempted to believe it had also set Amanda squarely into his own path. And he couldn’t go there. Today had been a good day—his first good day in a long, lonely time—but his life was still a train wreck. It would be wrong to drag someone else into his mess, especially someone as lovely as Amanda Sylvester.
Yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself from asking her a question that would ensure her continued presence in his and Dillon’s chaotic life. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help us get settled into a routine with the dog? You seem to know a lot about Tucker.”
“I do.” She grinned. “And I’d love to help. If you’re a first-time dog owner, you could probably use some assistance.”
Wasn’t that what dog training books were for? Not to mention pet supply stores, online communities and obedience classes. There was an entire industry out there devoted to pet care, but for some unknown reason, he felt compelled to ask Amanda to help him instead.
Or maybe the reason was obvious, but he wasn’t ready to accept it. “Great, thanks. I probably shouldn’t ask. You’ve already done so much...”
“Don’t mention it. I’m happy to give you a few pointers. I want the adjustment to go as smoothly as possible. Tucker’s a special little
guy. Dillon too, obviously.” The gleam in her soft brown eyes turned mischievous. “According to Llama Bean, so are you.”
“It’s nice to know the llama put in a good word for me,” he said dryly.
A week ago, he would probably have insisted Llama Bean was the only living soul who believed in him, but he was beginning to think that might not be the case after all.
* * *
Amanda paused on Ryan’s doorstep the next morning, hesitant to ring the bell.
She’d accompanied him and Dillon to the pet store the previous afternoon, ensuring they purchased all the necessary items to welcome a new dog into their home. They’d piled the shopping cart high with chew toys, food and water bowls, kibble, dog shampoo, a training crate, treats and a shiny red leash with a matching collar. Then she’d told Ryan everything he needed to know in order to survive their first night with Tucker, including the basics of crate training. She’d even helped Dillon use the engraving machine at the pet store to make a personalized tag for Tucker with his name and their address.
Anyone observing their interaction probably would have thought that Amanda was part of the family. A few times, she might have even felt that way herself—like when Dillon wanted her to choose Tucker’s dog bed or when Ryan insisted they ride together to the pet store. She’d sunk into the warm comfort of the passenger seat of his new SUV while Dillon smiled at her from his booster chair in the back seat.
Still, as cozy at it had been at times, she knew better than to believe it meant anything. Ryan had asked for her help with Tucker, and of course she’d agreed. She loved that dog and wanted to see him happy in his permanent home. And since Ryan was an inexperienced dog owner, he’d definitely need all the help he could get—especially with a stubborn dog like Tucker. She was basically only here as an amateur dog trainer.
But of course she’d woken up at four in the morning, anxious about the day ahead. Her mind knew there was nothing to be nervous about, but her body hadn’t quite gotten the memo. So after an hour of staring at the ceiling, she’d gotten up and made breakfast. Nothing special—French baked toast with cream and eggs. And now here she was, standing on the front porch of Ryan’s modest home in the historic Kingdom Creek neighborhood of Spring Forest, casserole dish in hand.
She took a deep breath and rang the bell, somehow suppressing the urge to dump the baking dish behind the nearest bush. She was a cook, after all, so it wasn’t weird that she’d brought breakfast along to their first in-home dog training session.
Was it?
Too late now. You’re holding a classic French country meal in your best Le Creuset.
The door swung open, revealing yet another version of Ryan Carter she’d never seen before. This one wore running shorts paired with a gray Georgetown University T-shirt and a charmingly rumpled case of bedhead. He held a smug-looking Tucker in one hand and a chewed up running shoe in the other. Of all the versions of Ryan, it was by far Amanda’s favorite—so sweetly masculine that she nearly dropped her casserole.
“Good morning.” She flashed him a wobbly smile.
“Morning.” Ryan’s gaze dropped to the dish in her hands as Tucker’s tail beat against his side. “What is that amazing smell?”
“Oeufs au plat bressane.” When his expression went blank, she added, “French toast and eggs with cream.”
He tilted his head, and a sleepy smile came to his lips—one that made her imagine him in bed, tangled in sheets and nothing else. “You made us breakfast?”
“Um.” Definitely awkward. God, she wanted to die. “I couldn’t sleep, and the kitchen is just kind of my happy place. You don’t have to eat it.”
“Are you kidding? Try to stop me.” He opened the door wider. “Please come in.”
The door clicked closed behind her, and she followed him toward a cozy kitchen with a big bay window overlooking a backyard with an old-fashioned tire swing. It was her favorite sort of kitchen, warm and inviting. She could easily imagine whipping up after-school snacks for Dillon in a space like this one. Or Christmas cookies during the holidays—tiny gingerbread versions of herself, Ryan and Dillon.
She nibbled on her bottom lip. Fantasizing about family life with Ryan and his son wasn’t going to get her any closer to her dream of expanding into catering. “How did things go last night with Tucker?”
“Great,” he said a little too brightly.
Amanda set the casserole dish down on the butcher block island in the center of the room and waited for Ryan to meet her gaze. Once he did, she cast a pointed glance at the destroyed Nike in his grip. “The shoe in your hand says otherwise.”
“Busted.” He dropped the sneaker and held Tucker toward her. “Maybe you should hold this monster while I set the table so he doesn’t get into any more trouble.”
“Gladly.” She gathered the little chiweenie in her arms, just as she’d done a thousand times before, and pressed a kiss to the top of his furry head.
Tucker didn’t flinch like he normally did when she showered him with unwanted affection. He smelled different too—less like the institutional soap Birdie and Bunny used to clean the shelter and more like something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But it reminded her of sunny summer picnics and running through the sprinkler on fresh-cut grass...of childhood.
“I’m sorry about the shoe,” she said. “I hope you’re not having second thoughts about keeping Tucker.”
“Absolutely not.” Ryan’s T-shirt pulled tight against his muscular back as he opened a cabinet and reached inside for a stack of plates.
Amanda tried not to stare, but failed miserably, prompting Tucker to let out a knowing snort. The little guy might belong to Ryan and Dillon now, but he still seemed to be able to read Amanda’s mind. Some things never changed.
Ryan arranged the plates on a cozy table tucked beside the window, then turned to face her.
“Dillon is like a completely different kid. He’s still not saying much, but that’s okay. There’s a light in his eyes that I haven’t seen in a really long time, and last night when I tucked him into bed, he thanked me for letting him bring Tucker home with us.” He inhaled a ragged breath. “He thanked me out loud, with his voice. Honestly, I nearly lost it right then and there.”
Amanda tightened her hold on Tucker lest she reach out to give Ryan a hug. “That’s amazing. It sounds like all three of you just might have found a happy ending.”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far yet. We’ve still got a long road ahead of us, but for the first time in a while, I can actually see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.” He gave Tucker a scratch behind his ears. “This little guy could chew up every pair of shoes I own and I’d still let him stay.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Some supervision and a good-sized rawhide chew should solve that problem.” She gave Ryan a wry smile. Or at least she tried, but he was suddenly closer to her than he’d ever been before. Too close.
He was so beautiful that it hurt to look at him at such close range. She felt a bittersweet pang in her heart, and reminded herself that the only reason he was standing mere inches away was so that he could pet Tucker. But then his fingertips grew still on the dog’s tiny head and he lifted his gaze to hers, and she could barely breathe.
“Why are you doing this?” His voice was as deep and delicious as devil’s food cake.
Her head spun a little, like it sometimes did when she ate too much sugar. “Doing what?”
“Everything—taking us to the shelter, helping out with Tucker’s training.” The corner of his mouth hitched up, drawing every ounce of her attention to his mouth. “Cooking us breakfast.”
That stupid, stupid French casserole. Quel embarrassment. “I couldn’t sleep, remember? It’s nothing.”
“It isn’t nothing. It’s something.” His hand moved to her cheek, cupping it in a way that made her want to lean into him an
d close her eyes. “A very special something...something that makes it impossible for me to ignore how very much I want to kiss you.”
Seriously?
The secret key to being kissed by Ryan Carter was a dish of eggs, bread and cream? If she’d known that, she would have drowned the man in breakfast offerings weeks ago.
“You want to kiss me?” she breathed.
The pad of his thumb grazed her bottom lip. “Very much. Sometimes it’s all I can think about.”
Suddenly, it was all she could think about too. That, and running her fingers through his elegantly rumpled hair. If she hadn’t still been clutching Tucker, she probably would have done it.
Happiness sparkled inside her, making her brave. Bold. “Why haven’t you, then?”
“For a lot of reasons.” He swallowed, and his eyes glittered. “But right now I can’t seem to remember any of them. So can I...”
“Yes,” she said without waiting for him to respond. “Please, please kiss me.”
Then, before she could process what was happening—before her nerves had a chance to take over and ruin everything—his mouth came down on hers, warm and wanting. And in that cozy kitchen, with Tucker nestled softly between them, Amanda’s secret crush became not-so-secret anymore. Because to her complete and utter astonishment, she was kissing Ryan Carter.
* * *
Ryan’s first thought when his lips brushed against Amanda’s was that she tasted even sweeter than he’d imagined. Lush and exquisite, like brandy-soaked cherries and soft velvet mornings. His arousal was instantaneous, as if he’d never kissed a woman before in his life. Probably because he hadn’t. Not in this life, anyway—the new one he’d worked so hard to create for himself and Dillon after Maggie had died.
Sometimes he felt like he’d ceased to exist since that terrible day. The shock of losing her had been devastating, even though his marriage had been hanging on by a thread. Her death had somehow frozen him in time, suspended in a dreadful tangle of guilt and regret. According to the police report, she’d just left an attorney’s office on the afternoon of her accident. Ryan wasn’t sure why she’d been there, and he’d never asked. He doubted the lawyer would tell him, even if he had tried to find out. Besides, what difference did it make now?
