“And his middle name would be Thomas, after my dad.”
He closed his eyes again. He remembered saying that too. She’d lost her father when she was only nine, barely older than Ellie. Then her mother had died a few years ago; he’d heard the news through his sister. “I’m so sorry about your mom. I don’t think I ever said that. When my sister mentioned it in a letter, I wanted to write you, but then I thought I should just leave well enough alone.”
“I wish you had written,” she said. “I wish a lot of things.”
He put his hands on either side of her face, and she looked up at him. There was so damned much hovering between them. History and feeling. He lowered his face, and she tilted up even higher to kiss him.
“I’m leaving by the end of March,” he said, taking a step back. “Sparkle will be ready for my sister’s house. I need to be clear. There’s not going to be any baby named Jesse.”
She stepped back as if he’d slapped her.
A dog barked, then others chimed in. Matt went to the glass door and looked out, his chest tight, his heart racing. The dogs were standing under a tree, staring up at a fat squirrel racing across one of the branches. “I’d better get these guys out of the cold.”
“We all need to be let out of the cold,” she said. “The deep freeze.”
He glanced at her, then walked over to Tyler. “Night, little guy,” he whispered, and then fled outside.
* * *
On Sunday afternoon, Claire accompanied Bunny on a home check for a couple who had an approved application to adopt Pierre, a two-year-old black Lab mix they’d met at the adoption event earlier that day. The Changs had an adorable toddler named Mia and lived in a classic white Colonial with a red door. They had a fenced yard, and had already decked out the house with everything a dog could need—plush beds in a few rooms, food and water bowls, toys and two sets of leashes and harnesses, plus an assortment of poop bags. These people were prepared to bring a dog into their family.
“Mia’s first word was dog,” Camille Chang said, the little girl on her lap.
Bunny smiled. “Well, Mia, I’m happy to let you know that you’ll now have a dog of your very own.”
“So all is well with the home check?” Michael Chang asked.
“All is well. You can come pick up Pierre anytime.” She added her card to Pierre’s paperwork, which included the Chang’s application. Claire watched her write Approved to adopt Pierre—Bunny W. across the back of the card. “Just show this at the desk and he’s all yours.”
They left the very happy Changs and headed out to Bunny’s ancient car with the Furever Paws logo painted on the sides.
Claire got in and buckled up with a deep sigh. When she realized she actually sighed out loud, she winced.
“What’s got you all wistful?” Bunny asked. “Spill it.”
Claire smiled. “You know when you want something but the someone you want it with isn’t interested in any of it, including you, but you want him, and so you’re just spinning your wheels in what feels like gravel?”
“I assume you’re talking about our handsome new volunteer?”
Claire nodded—and then found herself launching into every detail of her relationship, and lack thereof, with Matt Fielding.
“Ah, well, he’s interested all right.”
“He’s told me flat out he’s not. Attracted, yes,” she added, thinking she probably should have left out the part about ending up in bed. But the Whitaker sisters were hardly shrinking violets, and she’d always felt she could get personal with them. “Interested in a future with me? A family one day? No.”
Bunny turned the ignition. “My hard-won wisdom is this, Claire. He’s interested. In fact, he probably just doesn’t know how to get from here to there. You’ve just got to flip him.”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “Flip him? What do you mean?”
“You’ve said he doesn’t think he has what it takes to be a husband and a father because he has nothing to offer. But he’s shown you time and again he most definitely is husband and daddy material.”
“Right,” Claire said. “But where does the flipping come in?”
“By spending time with him, not hiding or avoiding him. The more he sees for himself who he is, the closer you’ll get to your dream.”
Her dream. Husband, children. Dogs. “Am I that transparent?”
Bunny grabbed Claire’s hand and squeezed. “Sorry, but yes. You love that man.”
Claire bit her lip. She did.
“So are you going to give up like you had no choice when you were eighteen? Or are you going to make that man yours?”
Claire smiled. “You make it sound so easy.”
Bunny backed out of the Changs’ driveway and headed toward the shelter. “He adopted Hank, Claire. He’s halfway there already. He just doesn’t know it.”
“Halfway could go either way. Backward or forward,” Claire pointed out.
“If you’re a pessimist like Birdie, maybe.” Bunny chuckled, then added, “Don’t tell my sister I said that. She calls herself a realist.”
“I think I need a dash of you to believe this relationship has a chance, and a dash of Birdie to keep my head out of the clouds.”
And she wasn’t so sure that adopting Hank meant Matt was setting down roots. Making something his. Creating permanence. Dogs loved unconditionally and didn’t talk or ask for much. They were easy to love. People were much harder.
But Bunny was right—Matt’s adopting Hank was a major sign of his commitment to love, honor and cherish that living, breathing creature. A living, breathing creature. It was a start, and all she had at the moment, so she was going to run with Bunny’s dreamer ways.
“Oh, and Claire?” Bunny said as she pulled into Furever Paws’ gravel parking lot. “He named his someday son. I’m not sure you need more sign than that.”
“That was a long time ago, when he was a different person.”
“Was he? According to the broken record of Matt Fielding, he had nothing to offer you then and has nothing to offer now. So for him, nothing is different. If he could imagine being a father then, he could imagine being one now.” She smiled and shook her head. “Men.”
Huh. Bunny was absolutely right.
Except he was leaving by the end of March. “He’s out of here in four weeks, Bunny.”
“Or not, dear.”
He’d left once. For eighteen years. Claire had no doubt the most stubborn man she’d ever met would do it again.
Chapter Nine
Was Matt really walking the dogs around the front of Claire’s house to avoid running into her in the backyard with Dempsey? Yes. He sighed, hating that it had come to this. How could he want to be with someone so much and want to avoid her at the same time? What the hell was that?
The front door opened and Dempsey’s snout, followed by the rest of her and then Claire, came outside. Guess Claire had the same idea.
Awk-ward.
“Oh, hi,” she said.
“Hey.”
Dempsey started pulling on her leash, something he didn’t think he ever saw her do. Must be a particularly interesting squirrel nearby.
Sparkle started pulling too and barking up a storm. “Whoa there, pup,” he said. The only dog not pulling was Hank, but he was staring at something across the road.
Matt glanced toward where they were staring. A small, gray, scruffy dog was half-hiding behind the wheel of a car parked across the street. “See that dog?” he asked Claire. “Sure looks skinny and bedraggled.”
Claire gasped. “It’s him! I saw him a few days ago and tried to lure him with treats, but he was scared and then a truck passed by and must have spooked him, because he took off running.”
“I don’t see a collar,” Matt said. “Poor thing must be a stray from the looks of him.”
“I think so too.”
“Here, I’ll take Dempsey. Maybe you can lure him over with treats now.”
Claire handed over Dempsey and pulled a treat from her pocket. “Here, sweetie,” she said, bending down a bit as she moved forward toward the curb. The mutt was still half-hiding, staring at the dogs more than her—or the treat.
“Ruff! Grr-ruff!” Sparkle barked.
“Shh, Sparkle,” Matt said. “You might scare him away.”
Claire stepped off the sidewalk and onto the street. But just then, a teenager on a moped came racing down the road, and the dog took off running.
Oh no.
Claire ran after him, treat in hand, but then she stopped, throwing her hands up before she came back. “I lost him. Poor guy. It’s so cold at night, especially. I called the animal warden when I saw him a couple of days ago, but she hasn’t been able to find him.”
“Well, we know he likes this road. So maybe he’ll be back.”
Claire bit her lip. “I hate the idea of that skinny, hungry little thing out there on his own.”
“I know. But let’s hope for the best. You’d bring him to the shelter?” he asked.
She nodded. “Our vet, Dr. Jackson—we call him Doc J—would check him out with a full exam, and we’d go from there. The little dog seemed to be in good enough shape.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Matt said. “Maybe he’ll be back later.”
She nodded. “Me too. But little dogs are hard to catch. So many places to hide. I don’t want you to be disappointed if we can’t rescue him.”
“I will be. I know what it’s like to think you have nowhere to go.” He froze. What the hell? He hadn’t intended to say that.
“You’ll always have somewhere to go, Matt. You have your sister, and no matter what, I’ll always be your friend. Even if I’m really, really, really mad at you.”
That actually made him smile. “Are you? Mad at me.”
“Yeah, I am.”
The snapping miniature poodle two doors down was storming down the sidewalk, pulling her owner, who kept saying “One day I’m going to hire a trainer.”
“Dempsey’s nemesis,” Claire said. “I think I’ll head back inside. Thanks for holding her.”
“Anytime,” he said.
The second the door closed behind them, he missed Claire. He really hoped they’d find and rescue that gray dog. Because somehow, in no time at all, Matt had become a dog person. And because he wanted to do something to make Claire happy.
* * *
With Dempsey at Doc J’s main office for a dental cleaning, Claire’s house sure was...lonely. She attempted to bake a pie, which came out lopsided and missing something vital, like sugar, maybe. Then she cleaned both bathrooms and vacuumed Dempsey’s fur off all surfaces. She watched two episodes of a TV show, then tried to read a memoir about a woman who adopted a dog after divorce and it changed her life.
But she couldn’t concentrate on anything. She kept lifting her eyes to the ceiling and toward the right, wondering what was going on in Matt’s over-the-garage apartment. Part of her wanted to march up the deck stairs, knock on that that man’s door and tell him straight-up how she felt, point out that he clearly felt something too, and that he was being ridiculous. And that he’d better fall in love with her this minute.
Well, maybe she’d just tell him how she felt. He was leaving soon. If his response was, Sorry, I just don’t feel the same way or more of I can’t because of this-that, at least she wouldn’t be mortified around him for long. But there was a chance she could get through to him. Flip him, like Bunny had suggested.
She went upstairs to her bedroom and sat down at her dressing table, planning to doll herself up a bit, but frowned in the mirror instead. Take me or leave me. This is who I am. A woman who teaches tweens all day and gets down and dirty with dogs all evening at the shelter. Accept me, dog hair and all.
She got up, went to the kitchen for a bottle of red wine and a block of one of her favorite cheeses, put on her jacket, then went out the deck door and up the stairs to Matt’s entrance. She knocked. Please don’t let me humiliate myself—again, she thought.
He answered the door with a towel around his waist, damp from the shower and looking so incredibly sexy, she couldn’t find words for a moment. Luckily, two sets of canine eyes were staring at her as Sparkle and Hank stood beside him, assessing the interloper. She cleared her throat and gave each a scratch under the chin.
He eyed the wine and cheese with interest in his blue eyes. “What are we celebrating?”
“A second chance for us.” She held her breath.
He shook his head. “Claire, you dodged a bullet with me. Why can’t you understand that? My life is completely up in the air right now.”
“Really? Looks to me like your feet are solidly on the ground. You have a home, family nearby, a dog.”
He tilted his head. “I do have a dog, don’t I? Never saw that one coming.”
She smiled. “Life is happening, Matt. You might be trying to stand still because being out of the military is a culture shock for you. But life is moving around you, and you’re responding whether you mean to or not. Hence, Hank.”
“Hence?” He laughed.
“I’m an English teacher. So hence. Hence, Matt Fielding, shut up and let what is going to happen happen instead of trying to fight it for reasons that aren’t standing up to scrutiny.”
He smiled and shook his head. “I guess I could use a glass of wine.”
Thank you, universe! she shouted in her head. She went into his kitchen and took out two wineglasses from a cabinet and poured. They clinked. And that was when the towel dropped.
Oh my. She’d seen him naked not too long ago, but oh wow, oh wow, oh wow. Matt Fielding was magnificent. Tall and muscled and strong. She lifted up her face to kiss him.
He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, and suddenly, he was walking her backward, his lips still on hers, toward the bedroom.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispered, his hands in her hair as they stood just inside the doorway. “Everywhere I look, there you are—my apartment, my dogs, my past. I spent an hour searching for that little gray dog mostly to see your smile when I found him.”
She was speechless for a moment. She couldn’t even process everything he’d just said, so she focused on the easy part. “Did you find him?”
“He slowed down a few blocks from here, and I thought I could stop my car and lure him over with little bits of a mozzarella cheese stick, but something spooked him and he took off. I couldn’t find him after that.”
“I appreciate that you tried, Matt.” She led him by the hand to the bed and kissed him again, slowly sinking down to the edge of the mattress.
This is so right, she thought over and over. Can’t you feel it? she silently asked him. There’s no way you can’t feel this.
“You know what I think is unfair?” he asked, one hand in her hair, the other undoing a button on her shirt.
“What?”
“That you’re still dressed while I’m naked.”
She grinned and got rid of her clothes, aware of him watching her remove every last piece of wool and cotton and lace from her body.
“You do, right?” she asked, running her hands over his glorious chest, all hard planes and muscles.
He trailed kisses up her neck, pausing briefly to ask, “Do what?”
“Feel this. What’s between us.” She could actually feel him freeze, his body just stop. “I want you to stay. And I don’t mean just the night, Matt. There, I said it. No one’s a mind reader, right? Now you know.”
He sat up against the headboard, grabbing part of the top sheet to cover him from the waist down. “I can’t stay, Claire. And I really don’t want to talk about it.”
She stood up and quickly dressed. “Let
me tell you something, bub.”
“Bub?” he repeated.
“Yes, bub.”
“I’m listening,” he said.
“What you might not realize is that you actually do have one thing to offer, Matt. And it happens to be the only thing I want from you.”
He stared at her. “I can’t possibly come up with anything you could be talking about.”
“The one thing you have to offer is yourself, Matt Fielding.”
He shook his head. “Matt Fielding is a shell, Claire.”
Grrr! “A shell? Does a shell of a man adopt a senior three-legged dog and buy every treat and toy and dog bed for his comfort? Does a shell of a man foster a nutty puppy for his smitten niece? Does a shell of a man volunteer at an animal shelter and move furniture around the Whitaker sisters’ house? You love, Matt. Whether you want to admit it or not. You’re just choosing to avoid commitment.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s not a choice. This thing in here,” he said, slapping a hand over his chest, “is blocked by a brick wall. It’s there all the time. The dogs, two sixtysomething sisters with nicknames, and an eight-year-old with a crooked braid don’t threaten my equilibrium. I’m not looking for attachments beyond them.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you’re just a lone wolf.”
“Better than what you’re doing with Dempsey. You’re so attached to her, when you’re just going to have to let her go. I saw the look on your face, the tension in your body language when she got that application the other day. Loving Dempsey means breaking your own heart.”
“Bullcrap. Love is all there is in this crazy world. Everything you’ve been through has helped build that brick wall in that chest of yours, but I can help break it down if you’ll let me. You have to let someone in, Matt. May as well be me.”
Please don’t say Sorry and turn away. Stop pushing me out of your life.
“I am really sorry, Claire. But I’m leaving in a few weeks as planned.”
She could use that brick wall over her own heart right about now. Because it was breaking again, and she was powerless to protect herself. So she did the only thing she could. She left.
A New Leash On Love (Furever Yours Book 1) Page 11
