Hearts Divided

by Masters, Ellie

  “Now this I have to hear,” Ash says. “Lay it on me.”

  * * *

  By the time the sun rises, Bash and Ash say their goodbyes. The song sounds fantastic and he can’t wait to share it with the rest of the band. He wanders out into the living area and isn’t surprised to find the door to Noodles’s room open. A quick peek inside and his friend is nowhere to be found. It’s not late, but the sun has been up for well over an hour. Out on the water, Noodles is doing what he loves more than anything in the world.

  That’s okay. After a quick breakfast, Bash has plans. He’ll meet up with Noodles when the time is right. His mood is subdued as he waits for the waitress to bring his breakfast. When she does, Bash shovels eggs and pancakes down as his anticipation rises. He’s going to put his troublesome redhead out of his mind and has the perfect plan.

  The choice of what kind of dog is irrelevant. He simply needs a reason to bump into his fiery redhead without looking like a creep about it. A quick conversation to win her over, a trip back to his room for a quick fuck, and bam! Itch scratched. He can forget her and move on.

  Her dog is a German Shepard. Not his favorite, but he respects the fierceness of the breed. He’s more of a Labrador kind of guy, something goofy and fun. Unfortunately, the shelter has none. He stands with a gangly youth beside a row of kennels of potential adoptees.

  “Don’t you have something other than yippy ankle biters?” Bash turns to the young kid. “I need a man’s dog. Something big and strong.”

  “Are you looking for a guard dog?” The young, freckled-faced kid gives Bash a furtive look. He’s either clueless as to who Bash might be, or knows exactly who he is and is too scared to ask. The name tag on his shirt is scratched and barely legible but Bash makes it out.

  “I don’t need it for security, Timothy. I just need something that won’t make me look like a pussy.” Bash wants a bigger, badder dog than Ranger. As if to emphasize his point, a tiny, wire-haired terrier yips and digs at the wire of its kennel. His barking sets off a chorus of obnoxious noise from the other tiny mutts.

  Timothy gives a grin. “Sorry, we don’t have many big dogs. They don’t adopt very well.”

  “No Labs? Setters? Retrievers?” He really wants a fun, easy dog. Once he gets back to Insanity, he can pawn the thing off on Skye and Ash and claim it’s a gift for their baby. Every kid needs a dog growing up.

  “We have a Rottweiler.” Timothy says.

  Bash shakes his head. “I need kid friendly. You know, like a family dog?”

  The kid cocks his head and Bash laughs at the gears churning in Timothy’s expression. He’s wearing a Metallica T-shirt. If he’s like any typical teenager, he recognized Bash on sight but is trying to play it cool. Bash respects that and tosses the kid a bone.

  “My buddy, Blaze, is gonna have a kid. The dog’s for him.”

  Timothy’s eyes light up. “I knew it! You’re Bash, right? From Angel Fire?” The excitement in the kid’s eyes leaps across the distance.

  “Yeah.” Bash extends a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Holy crap, my friends aren’t going to believe this.” Timothy spins around and stabs his fingers in his hair, pulling at the roots. “I’m going to find a dog for you.”

  “For Blaze.”

  “Yes! For Blaze!” Timothy walks up and down the rows of kennels, but they’ve already looked at all the little dogs inside. Then the kid’s eyes light up. “How big of a dog is too big?”

  Bash gives him a side-eyed glance. “I guess it depends on the dog.”

  “Well, I’ve got a dog that was brought in this morning. There’s a process they have to go through before being allowed to go up for adoption, but he’s definitely a man’s dog.” The kid gives a chuckle. “And he’s no ankle biter.”

  “Sounds just up my alley. Why was he brought in?”

  The kid rubs at the back of his neck. “Um, he ate a couch.”

  “I’m not interested in a couch eater.”

  “It’s not his fault.” The kid seems overly protective, making Bash wonder if there’s more to this story. “All he needs is love, attention, and a little obedience training.”

  “What kind of dog is Couch-Eater.”

  “It was one time!”

  “Sounds like one couch too many.” As funny as that sounds, it time to get things moving. He has a redhead to stalk.

  “You said big?” Timothy asks.

  At this point, Bash will take anything.

  “Man size,” he says with a nod.

  “Imagine an Irish Wolfhound and Great Dane mix.”

  “Um…okay?”

  Timothy’s smile falters and his expression droops. “To be honest, given his size, I don’t think Duke will be adopted.”

  “Duke?” The hairs on the back of Bash’s neck tingle. “Kid, is this your dog?”

  Timothy looks up through shaggy bangs. “Yeah, he was cute as a puppy, but the couch was the last straw. Mom made me bring him in.”

  “What happens if Duke doesn’t get adopted?”

  “It’s an animal shelter. We do the best we can, but there comes a time when we have to make room, and big dogs…”

  Yeah, he understands what happens to dogs in animal shelters.

  “Where’s Duke?”

  The kid bounces on the balls of his feet. “I have him in a holding kennel.”

  “I can’t wait for whatever paperwork you have. If he’s yours, how about we keep this between us. Leave the shelter out of it. I’ll take Duke and save him from…”

  “You’re kidding! Yes! Absolutely, yes!” The kid races down the long row of kennels. His hands shake as he opens a far door and he waves for Bash to follow. “Duke has all his shots, but he’s not neutered. You’ll want to take care of that.”

  Bash came for a disposable dog. Now he’s strapped with the obligation of saving this kid’s dog from certain death at the hands of the state; sentenced for the crime of eating a couch. With a shake of his head, he follows the kid and pulls up short when he sees the ugliest dog in the world.

  “That’s a horse!” He says, pointing.

  Dark brown eyes twinkle beneath shaggy eyebrows as Duke gives a long look at Bash. The monstrosity of a dog presses against the wire of the kennel, whining and slobbering as it tries to nuzzle Timothy’s palm. There’s a noble gentleness to Duke that brings a smile to Bash’s face.

  “You said he was a Great Dane.” The images of the playful cartoon character, Marmaduke, hold nothing to the spindly, wire-haired, shaggy-browed creature begging for attention.

  The kid’s expression turns desperate. “He’s a mix.”

  “What did you say the other half was?”

  “Irish Wolfhound.”

  Bash pulls out his phone. “Not real familiar with that one.”

  “They’re really cool. Quiet indoors, gets along with pretty much everyone; kids, dogs, strangers, and cats.”

  “Cats?”

  “Yeah, mom has two cats and Duke lets them walk all over him. Like they actually walk all over him and they sleep with him too. He’s really a great dog.”

  “This says Wolfhounds were used in war to drag men off horses and chariots.” Bash peers at his phone. “What the fuck? Did you know they used to hunt deer, boar, and wolves? I thought we were talking friendly, family kind of dog. Like Marmaduke.”

  “Duke’s affectionate, kid friendly, great with other dogs, and likes strangers. He’s not the best guard dog, but you said you didn’t need that. He rarely barks too. Duke is your dog.”

  “He’s more like a horse. Reminds me of an At-At” Bash scrolls through a webpage about Irish Wolfhounds and sure enough, the breed gets five stars for everything Timothy says. It’s almost like the kid has the website memorized. “Is that what you said to get your mom to agree to bringing Duke home?”

  The kid gives a sheepish grin and looks down. “Yeah. It worked when he was little.”

  “It says here, Irish Wolf Hounds are the tallest breed of dogs. Tha
t’s odd. I thought it was Great Danes.”

  “You wanted a big dog.” Timothy gestures toward Duke. “He’s no ankle biter.”

  “That’s for damn sure.” Bash looks between the two and finds himself torn. “I hate to take your dog from you.” Is he really considering this?

  “I hate giving him up, but I don’t have a choice and it’s killing me to know what will happen to him if you don’t. You’d be doing me a favor taking Duke. He needs a good home. A big home. He doesn’t do well in an apartment. I’m sure you don’t have an apartment.”

  Bash glances back at his phone and can’t help but smirk. “It says they don’t drool or bark much.”

  “Well, not much.”

  “I travel a lot. That might be a problem.”

  “You must have people for that.” The blood in Timothy’s face drains, turning his complexion pasty white. “Shoot. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Hey, it’s cool kid. And you’re right. I can afford to have people take care of Duke when I’m on the road. If you’re okay with knowing I might not be around that much.”

  “You said he was going to be Blaze’s dog.”

  “I can’t play without Blaze. We travel together.”

  “I was thinking of the kid.”

  “Well, the kid’s not born yet, but I’m sure he won’t be going on tour. So yeah, he’d probably have nannies and who’s to say Duke can’t have one too.”

  “So, you’ll take him?”

  Bash thrusts out his hand. “Consider it done.”

  Now, to find a redhead and take her to bed.

  6

  Holly

  Another beautiful day rains sunshine down on Santa Barbara. The faint tang of the Pacific lingers in the air and tempts Holly to take a day off and let Ranger run on the beach. Ranger loves the sand, but enjoys playing in the water even more. Indulging him is easy, but the cleanup afterward can be an hour’s long event, or more. Instead of giving in to temptation, she leans back on the bench and watches Ranger play with one of his doggie friends.

  He and a Border Collie carry a stick around. They let it fall, jump around it, bark at each other, and then one of them grabs it and runs off. It’s a fun game of chase and requires very little of her supervision. She knows the owner of the collie by sight. They wave and smile at each other, but Holly keeps to herself and the older woman usually sits with her nose buried in a book.

  With the doggy park completely fenced in, there are no worries about the dogs running off and getting into trouble. She relaxes and tilts her face to the sky, breathes in the fresh air, and allows the sun to warm her face. It’s a slow, relaxing day, one which will soon be filled with the tapping of snare drums, the clashing of cymbals, and the deep, throbbing beat of bass drums booming through the air.

  Wednesday is her favorite day of the week precisely because of the chaos the community center brings. It’s not about making music. That is probably the last thing that will happen, at least this early in the program. It’s more about exploration, freedom, and taking kids away from the dangers of the street for an hour or more.

  Her parents think she’s crazy volunteering at the local community center. They complain that the streets aren’t safe, but Ranger is there to protect her, and she’s not without skills. She also only goes there in the middle of the day and leaves well before the sun begins to think about setting. The reputation she’s developed as the drum-chick gives her the smallest sliver of street cred. Some of her students are kids in the local gang. They make sure no one harasses her as she leaves the center.

  Receiving protection from a gang is unsettling, but she knows some of those kids, and at the end of the day that’s all they really are. Kids trying to make it through another day. If she can give them an hour away from their troubles, then she can accept the gratitude of their unorthodox protection.

  A shadow falls over her and darkens the light behind her closed eyelids. She opens her eyes and finds herself staring into the most intense blue eyes and a sinfully sexy face which steals her breath.

  “Well, hello there,” her stranger from yesterday says. “Imagine bumping into you here.”

  She sits up on the bench and glances at him. The ugliest dog is beside him. It’s huge, standing hip-high to sex-on-a-stick and has the most adorable bushy brows.

  “What kind of dog is that?”

  There’s something about the dog, a wariness to the way he stands. He’s a young dog, no longer a puppy, but not fully grown. Instead of leaning against his master, he stands apart, almost as if they’re strangers. Holly knows a thing or two about dogs and she’s curious how much this guy knows about his.

  “He’s a wolfhound mix,” her stranger says.

  “I recognize the wolfhound in him, but what else.”

  “Great Dane, or that’s what I’m told.”

  She points to the dog’s eyebrows. “Other than his size, only wolfhounds have shaggy brows like that. Did you just get him?”

  It’s not an innocent question. Something rings alarms in her head, like how convenient it is to have run into the same stranger twice in as many days. There’s only the slightest hesitation as he considers his response. That’s when she knows the truth. Her suspicious nature screams at her to get up and walk away, but the next words out of his mouth stop her in her tracks.

  “Actually, Duke and I just met. I needed a reason to come to the dog park.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, I couldn’t stand another minute away from you.” He walks around to the front of the bench, leading Duke with an awkwardness which brings a smile to her face. Maybe it’s his honesty. The guy wears confidence like a second skin. It’s the most potent sex appeal in the world.

  “Excuse me?” She asks.

  “Well, you ran out of Grady’s last night. I never got your name, your number, or the kiss I dreamt about all night long. We need to rectify that.” He leans back and kicks an ankle across his opposite knee. “I’ve got to say, I’m wondering if you taste as sweet as I remember from my dreams.”

  “I don’t remember getting your name,” she says, turning his question around on him.

  His hesitation is real this time. He starts to say one thing, but then changes it for another. “Name’s Sebastian, and I already mentioned Duke.” Reaching across the empty space, he extends a hand in greeting.

  “Yes, Duke,” she says, briefly taking Sebastian’s hand. “The reason you’re here.”

  His hand covers hers and grips with calloused fingers, surrounding her in warmth and the strangest feeling of coming home. The electricity shivering in the air is absent in his grip. Instead, she’s left with a profound feeling of completion. Which is crazy. She pulls back and extricates her hand from his grip.

  “Duke’s not the reason,” he says. Sebastian rubs at his hand. He turns his hand over in his lap and gives a long hard look at his palm, then traces where hers had been. “He’s the excuse.” He leans back and rests his arm along the back of the bench. He’s sitting close, but not too close. There’s a gap between them, a void of empty space crackling with the energy sizzling between them.

  When she says nothing, he gives her a side-line glance, but doesn’t push. Instead, he tugs on Duke’s lead, pulling the massive dog to him. Duke nuzzles his hand, sniffing with interest, but not familiarity.

  “How does this place work? Do I just let him go?”

  “That depends,” she says. “Is he socialized?”

  “Socialized? What the fuck does that mean?”

  She takes no offense to his crude language. It actually makes him sexier, if that’s possible.

  “Well, does he play well with other dogs? Or is he going to get into a fight? The dogs that come here are socialized, meaning they’re not trying to top dog one another. If a dog looks like it’s starting something, it’s on its owner to take him out.”

  “Are there posted rules I need to know before letting him off?”

  “Other than being responsible for cleaning
up after him, that’s it. Basically, be a good neighbor. But before that, if you and Duke are new to each other, letting him loose in a dog park is probably not the best idea. You have no idea how he’ll…”

  Before she can finish, Sebastian releases Duke from his lead. The dog vaults into action and charges across the park, taking long loping strides. He’s a docile giant, tongue lolling out of his mouth, tail wagging with excitement rather than held stiff with aggression, but still. Sebastian doesn’t know how this dog will react, and he’s not watching Duke who makes a beeline for another dog. She points across the field, trying to get Sebastian to pay attention.

  “You may want to get your dog.”

  “He can’t go anywhere.”

  “That Setter he’s trying to mount is seconds from biting his face off.”

  Across the park, the Setter is having none of Duke’s amorous affection. A warning growl rumbles across the grass and Sebastian is up and moving.

  “Shit!”

  Duke sees Sebastian and loses interest in the Setter for the man running toward him. Duke’s ears perk up and he jumps, places his front feet forward and ducks his head down, ready for play. Maybe Duke and Sebastian are bonding?

  Nope.

  The moment Sebastian is within arm’s length, Duke decides they’re playing chase. She laughs as Duke sprints away and Sebastian runs after him with a colorful string of curses. Wolfhounds are bred to take down wolves and deer, animals who easily outrun men. Sebastian isn’t winning this game. More laughter spills from her as Duke stops, waits for Sebastian to get close, then takes off again. It’s a one-sided game Sebastian is losing.

  Duke runs between Ranger and his Border Collie friend who gave up their game of chase to gnaw at opposite sides of a fallen branch in the shade of a tree. Ranger looks up at the newcomer, gives a friendly woof and runs after Duke, dragging the branch for a few feet before ditching it to pursue. Duke and Ranger race around the park, leaving Sebastian bent over and huffing in the middle of the field. Sebastian looks up and raises his hands in surrender.