The Twelve Dogs of Christmas

by Lizzie Shane

The two of them moved to the other side of the area Furry Friends had claimed, leaving Ben alone with Ally—or at least as alone as two people could be standing in the middle of a crowded town square.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to come,” Ben said. “Astrid and I would love to have you, of course, but you don’t owe us anything.”

  Ally frowned up at him. “You still want me to come?”

  “Of course. If you want to. You really don’t have to—”

  “No. I…I’d like to. If it’s okay.”

  “Yeah. Absolutely. You wanna come by around three? After the shelter’s afternoon hours? I’ll text you the address.”

  “Great,” she said, looking more confused than excited, though he couldn’t figure out why.

  “Is everything okay?” He was sure he’d missed something in the last ten minutes, but Ally just shook her head.

  “No, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow. Three o’clock.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ben’s fiancée was gorgeous. And a genius, apparently, since she’d skipped however many grades. And wonderful with Astrid, if the tree lighting ceremony and the fact that Astrid already called her “aunt” was anything to go by. She was freaking perfect and she was real.

  Which was why Ally was only going to Ben and Astrid’s to bake brownies as a friend. Because they were friends. Because men and women were perfectly capable of being friends. And because Ben’s gorgeous perfect fiancée sanctioned the get-together. Because she was obviously not in the least threatened by Ally and completely trusted her fiancé, who hadn’t said a single non–Friend Zone thing to Ally since they met.

  That moment by the tree when she’d looked at him and he’d looked at her and everything had seemed to slow down, the lights illuminating the angles of his face, and something inside of her went quiet and still with anticipation…that wasn’t anything. That wasn’t real. Reality was the perfect fiancée. And the Friend Zone—where she was very happy to be. She liked Ben and Astrid.

  And she really did owe him for all his help with the dogs.

  Captain America was officially being adopted by the family in Burlington, just as soon as his adoption fee cleared. And there were two more applications just in the last twenty-four hours. Kimber Kwan had managed to talk her parents into putting in an application for one of Dolce’s puppies, and an online application had come in for Daisy.

  Today’s visiting hours at Furry Friends had been so busy her grandparents had decided to extend them into the evening just in case anyone else dropped by to see the dogs after hours, but they’d encouraged her to go over to Ben and Astrid’s when she’d offered to stay and help. Even Deenie had practically shoved her out the door when she’d discovered Ally had plans to go help them.

  Ben’s culinary efforts must really be legendary in the town if so many people were encouraging her to save him.

  The cloth straps dug into her fingertips as she carried the two bulging reusable grocery bags up the walkway of the cozy little house on Maple Street. Before she’d known about Astrid, she wouldn’t have pictured Ben in a place like this—so homey and family-centric, with a glider on the tiny front porch and a sensible crossover in the driveway. She couldn’t help but wonder where he’d lived before, because she had the distinct feeling this was his sister’s house.

  Ally adjusted her grip on the bags and pressed the doorbell, her lips twitching as the sound was greeted by a delighted shriek and the rapid thunder of footsteps that sounded far too loud to be coming from a ten-year-old girl.

  Astrid flung open the door, beaming. “You came!”

  “Of course I came.”

  Ben appeared in the hallway behind Astrid, his eyebrows arching as he took in the bulging shopping bags. “I did tell you I already bought the mix, didn’t I?”

  “You did,” Ally confirmed, stepping across the threshold. “These aren’t mixes. These are my secret ingredients.”

  Ben eyed the bags as he lifted them from her hands so she could remove her coat. “Is it vanilla? My mom says the secret ingredient is always vanilla, but this feels like a lot of vanilla.” He did a biceps curl with the bags, the muscles in his arms jumping against his soft gray sweater.

  Ally forced her eyes off the display—engaged, dummy—and turned to hang her coat on a peg. “Patience. All will be revealed.”

  Ben snorted. “Come on. Kitchen’s this way.”

  “I am so excited you’re helping,” Astrid gushed, dashing ahead of them through a narrow archway.

  Ally fell into step behind Ben—and nearly took him out as her toe caught on the edge where the flooring shifted from hardwood to tile. She tumbled against his firm back and he twisted to steady her, though she was already back on her feet, her face flaming.

  “Careful,” Ben warned too late. “I should have mentioned the floor’s kind of uneven there.”

  “Our kitchen has character,” Astrid announced proudly.

  “Most character in Pine Hollow,” Ben added dryly.

  He wasn’t wrong. The kitchen was small and decorated in the height of seventies chic. The appliances all looked like they’d seen better days, and there was something about the island that made it seem like it was in the wrong place, giving the entire kitchen a lopsided feel. But it was also cheerfully cluttered. Lived in. And Ally smiled. It reminded her of her grandparents’ place—badly in need of an update, but utterly charming. “I love it.”

  “It’s a fixer-upper,” Ben said. “And someday we’ll actually have time to fix it up.”

  “I like it how it is,” Astrid insisted. Ben didn’t say a word, but the way he looked at the back of Astrid’s head made Ally think the fact that Astrid didn’t want to change it was a big part of the reason the kitchen hadn’t been updated.

  “So what is all this stuff?” Ben asked, heaving the bags onto the kitchen table.

  Boxes of brownie mix and all of the materials for making them had already been neatly laid out on the island. Ben and Astrid had gone to the trouble of getting everything ready for her, and Ally felt a flicker of misgiving that she’d gone overboard. She’d remembered what Ben had said last night about how Astrid’s mom would have made something amazing that would have sold out, and she’d wanted to do something special—especially since Ben and Astrid had been such a help—but now she worried that it looked like she was trying to take over.

  She reached for the bags, suddenly self-conscious. “I knew you already had the brownies covered, but I figured some special toppings could help them stand out.” She began pulling goodies out of the bags. Pretzels, marshmallows, caramels, milk chocolate, white chocolate, candy canes, sprinkles, and gummy worms. “I used to live next to a sweet shop in New York, and their brownies were never just brownies. I figured we could steal that idea…”

  “Wow.” Ben was staring at the bounty spread over the table.

  “Too much? I shouldn’t have—”

  “No, this is great,” Ben interrupted.

  “This is awesome,” Astrid squealed. “These are going to be the best brownies ever in the history of brownies!”

  Astrid bounded around the kitchen and Ben met Ally’s gaze over her head. He mouthed, “Thank you,” and she smiled, the pleasure of the moment shimmering down into her chest and wrapping around her heart.

  “Shall we get started?”

  * * *

  Three hours later, Ally bent over the counter, pressing crushed candy canes into the layer of melted white chocolate coating the latest batch of brownies before it could cool and harden. Ben stood beside her, his shoulder brushing hers as he did the same with pretzels and caramel to another tray of brownies, while Astrid worked at the island, perfecting her own creation, which included layers of graham crackers and gooey marshmallows. He had a little smudge of flour on his neck that Ally kept eyeing, though she couldn’t bring herself to brush it away.

  “We need to taste-test them,” Astrid announced.

  Ally’s lips twitched. “Quality control is important.”
/>
  “After dinner.” Ben didn’t look up from his tray.

  “We could have brownies for dinner,” Astrid suggested hopefully.

  Ben snorted. “Nice try.” He glanced toward the clock and then at Ally. “Though we should probably feed you after you spent all afternoon helping us. How do you feel about pizza?”

  Her stomach growled. “Very positively.”

  “I’ll order!” Astrid shouted, bounding off the step stool she’d been using and grabbing Ben’s phone. “Do you like pepperoni and pineapple, Ally?”

  “Uh…absolutely.”

  Ben leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You’re allowed to say no to her, you know. We can get more than one kind of pizza.”

  His face was close to hers when she looked over, the dark fringe of lashes around his eyes making her knees wobble, though she told herself that was just because she’d been standing too long with her knees locked. “I happen to love pepperoni, and I may not have had it with pineapple before, but I’m willing to give it a try.”

  Ben arched a brow. “Get some cheese bread too,” he said to Astrid, louder, though his gaze stayed locked on Ally’s.

  “Do you think we have enough?” Astrid asked after she’d called in the delivery order. She bounced around the kitchen, counting the different varieties of brownies they’d made. Once the last group cooled, the individual treats would be wrapped in cellophane, tied with ribbons, and added to the half-full basket on the table.

  “We have plenty,” Ben insisted. “It’s about quality, not quantity. And thanks to Ally, our quality level is high. Though I still think the ones with the milk chocolate and the gummy worms are weird.”

  “Just wait,” Ally insisted. “Those are going to be the most popular. You’ll see. They’re delicious.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “They’re perfect,” Astrid praised, still bouncing around the kitchen, though Ally was reasonably sure she hadn’t actually ingested any of the sugar. “Instagrammable.”

  Ally arched a brow at Ben and he winced. “One of the moms Instagrams her kid’s lunches and posts the pictures to the class parents’ Facebook group. Just in case you’re ever feeling like you might be doing okay with PB&J, there’s always someone there to ask you whether the peanut butter is organic and imply you’re trying to give your kid diabetes if the jelly has more than two micrograms of added sugar.”

  Ally cringed. “Ouch.”

  “It’s a cutthroat business, parenting.”

  She eyed their bounty. “I’m pretty sure none of this is organic, and all of it has enough sugar to have the kids bouncing off the ceiling.”

  “It’s a Christmas treat. There will be vegan and organic and gluten-free options at all the other tables.” He cocked his head toward her. “We’ll be the sinful, decadent ones.”

  His deep voice made the words sound even more sinful and decadent. Ally focused on her hands, fighting a blush. Engaged. Taken. She closed her eyes, mentally picturing Elinor the Great.

  “We ate all that crap when we were kids, and we’re still here.”

  Kids. Focus on that. That was platonic. She opened her eyes, poking more candy canes into the top of the white chocolate. “It sounds like you were quite the troublemaker when you were younger.”

  “Me? Nah. I was just always getting pulled into Levi’s schemes. He was the ringleader. And yet somehow he never seemed to get caught. Unlike the rest of us. I think I would’ve been grounded every other week if Katie hadn’t covered for me.”

  Ben’s hands went still, and the energy in the room shifted. He glanced over at Astrid, who was pretending to be preoccupied with her brownie creation, but leaning closer to catch every word.

  “What was she like?” Ally asked softly. “When you were kids?”

  “Funny. In a really sarcastic way. Smart and good in school—good at everything. Which I thought was horrible, of course, because how do you follow that? But also mean,” he said with a laugh. “She could be vicious—though that was mostly just when she was hungry or I’d done something stupid to piss her off. The usual little brother stuff. She loved to read, but she hated reading around other people. She said she could hear me breathing and it distracted her—so, of course, I mouth off that I can’t very well stop breathing, and she threatens to make me…” Ben studied his hands, pressing pretzels gently into place. “Everyone liked her. More than they liked me, but I didn’t mind, for some reason. Maybe because I liked her, too. It was weird when she went away to college. She wasn’t one of those kids who came home a lot or wrote every day. We’d get a few emails, a few phone calls, but then it was Christmas, and she was back and making everything…She really threw herself into it. Christmas was…” He trailed off, his throat working, and shook his head sharply. “Ugh. Don’t know why I started talking about that.”

  “Because you miss her?” Ally murmured.

  “Yeah.” Ben swallowed, pressing his lips together.

  The doorbell rang and Ben coughed, shaking himself. “That’ll be the pizza.”

  He was out of the kitchen before Ally could blink. She brushed candy cane slivers off her hands and turned to study Astrid. “You okay?” she asked softly.

  “I remember that, too.” She met Ally’s gaze, her small face working to contain her emotion. “How she hated if you made any noise at all while she was reading. I forgot, but she did. There was this one time, I was chewing gum and she was all, ‘I brought you into this world, I will take you out of it.’ But you always knew, like, she didn’t mean it. She just said stuff like that, like jokes. And then she’d chase me out of the room and tickle me until I couldn’t breathe.”

  “I bet she loved that you were there. Chewing gum and all.”

  Astrid’s grin was faint and lopsided. “Yeah.”

  “Pizza!” Ben announced, stepping back into the kitchen with his arms full of the boxes. “Make a space.”

  Ally and Astrid quickly set about clearing enough of the table for the pizza box, the previous moment gone, but lingering in the air with the sweet poignancy of memory.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I’m glad you came tonight.” Ben shoved his hands into his pockets, burrowing down against the cold. “And not just for the sake of the brownies. Though they’re infinitely better than they would have been if we’d been left to our own devices.”

  The night air pressed against his face, heavy with the promise of snow, as Ben walked Ally back to Furry Friends. As soon as they finished the pizza, when he realized she’d walked all the way from Furry Friends with those bulging bags of groceries, he’d offered to walk her home, but Astrid had begged her to stay. And none of them had really wanted her to leave.

  They’d watched Elf after dinner while waiting for the last brownies to cool so they could package them up. Ally had stayed until he’d sent Astrid to read in bed, his neighbor Mrs. Fincher available if Astrid needed anything while Ben walked with Ally.

  It had been a good night. The best night he’d had in a long time, if he was honest. It was weird. He felt like himself again. Like the vise of stress that had closed around him had opened, if only for a little while.

  “I had fun,” Ally said as their boots crunched the ice on the sidewalk. “And I definitely owed you for all your help with the dogs.”

  Guilt dug into him. “You don’t owe me anything.” He flexed his hands in his pockets. “If anything, I owe you. That was fun today. I think I forgot what that felt like. For Christmas not to be work. And Astrid loved it. You always seem to know what to say to her.” He grimaced. “Unlike me.”

  “Hey.” She bumped his arm with her elbow. “Don’t give yourself such a hard time. You’re doing a lot better than you give yourself credit for.”

  “Yeah, but that stuff tonight about Katie…I don’t know why I started talking about that.” They passed the town square with the tree glowing cheerfully from the center. “In some ways it’s easy not to talk about it, because everyone already knows, you know? That’s
the good and the bad of a small town. Everyone knew Katie and Paul. It’s weird talking to someone who didn’t. Good weird,” he clarified quickly. “But strange. Everyone misses them, but we don’t talk about it. I don’t know if that makes it easier or harder.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I think Astrid liked hearing you talk about her mom.”

  Ben grimaced, hunching his shoulders against a gust of wind. “I wish there was someone who could tell you when you were doing it right and when you were getting it wrong. There are lots of people with opinions and no way of knowing if you’re actually being a good parent. You never know when you’re letting her down, so you always feel like you are.”

  “Ben.” She took his arm. “You’re a good guardian.”

  “Am I? Probate was a lot. This parenting thing is a lot. I feel overwhelmed all the time—I can’t even keep a washing machine working.”

  “I don’t think a broken washing machine counts as bad parenting.”

  “I know. I just used to be the fun uncle, and I loved her like crazy, but I didn’t know the routines. I didn’t know the day-to-day. Her pediatrician’s name or that she still slept with HopHop or that Katie had just started her on Harry Potter, reading them aloud together one chapter at a time…”

  After the accident, Astrid hadn’t wanted to read them with him. The books sat on a shelf in her room, gathering dust.

  “How are you supposed to know when you’re doing this right?” he asked. “Elinor said this thing to me the other day about stress changing the way your brain is wired if it goes on for too long. I feel like I’ve been in stress brain for two years.” Ally dropped his arm, and he glanced over at her, groaning. “And now I’m unloading all of this onto you. I’m sorry. First-world problems. So many people have it worse.”

  “Just because it’s not the worst-case scenario doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. Hard isn’t relative. It doesn’t get easier because someone else has it worse. It’s just hard. You don’t need to make your hard seem smaller than someone else’s.” She glanced up at him, lightening the moment with a quick flashing grin. “Just don’t make it bigger.”