The Twelve Dogs of Christmas

by Lizzie Shane

  “I figure once Christmas break starts this Friday I’ll have the time to actually train one and get them used to me and the house. So maybe I’ll stop by then?”

  “I…yeah. Yeah, that would be great.”

  “Excellent.” She beamed. “And can I just say, kudos on the brownies. Astrid’s booth has been the place to be this afternoon, and we all know that wasn’t Ben’s doing.”

  “He actually did a lot,” Ally protested, feeling strange defending him to his own fiancée. Elinor really did seem amazing, but Ally was having a harder and harder time picturing them together.

  “I’m sure he did, but still, on behalf of all our stomachs, thank you. Jeremiah, put down that icing.” Elinor moved off quickly to save one of the students from having frosting shampoo applied to his hair by an overly helpful friend.

  Deenie appeared at her elbow a moment later, carrying two cups of spiced apple cider. “I lost you.” She handed one cup over. “What happened?”

  “I ran into Elinor,” Ally said, as if it was totally normal to befriend a woman on whose fiancé she was developing a very problematic crush. “Apparently she’s considering adopting a dog.”

  “Yeah? That’s great. We’ll have them all adopted by Christmas at this rate.”

  Ally took a sip of the cider, the flavors of cinnamon and clove blending sweetly on her tongue. Nerves whispered through her as Ben’s question from last night floated through her mind. Then what would she do?

  When the shelter wasn’t there anymore, she would need a new excuse to stay in town and look after her grandparents, because she was starting to think her future wasn’t in New York anymore.

  “Come on. I want to see these infamous brownies everyone is talking about.” Deenie linked her arm through Ally’s, towing her through the crowd and forcing Ally to focus on her cup so she didn’t spill hot cider on random passersby—because dousing people in hot beverages was her thing with Ben.

  She was so focused on her cup, she was practically on top of Astrid’s booth before she looked up—and spotted Ben standing a few feet away, supervising.

  He grinned as soon as he spotted her and came around the table to her side. “You were right.”

  Deenie had dropped her arm, pressing forward among the kids crowded around Astrid’s table to check out the remaining wares and leaving Ally alone with Ben in the middle of the crowded gym.

  He looked good, so good in a snug gray sweater with a red-and-white-striped candy-cane scarf draped around his neck in a nod to the season. With his neatly trimmed beard, the look was very mountain-man chic—and it was working for him. She wanted to raise her camera and snap a picture, but somehow that felt too intimate. “I was?”

  He gestured to the booth. “The gummy worm brownies were the first to go. Remind me never to bet against you when it comes to baked goods.”

  “I know my desserts.”

  “Astrid insisted we save one of each kind for quality control. You should come by and help us compare them.”

  It was tempting to say yes, but guilt whispered through her and she found herself dropping his fiancée’s name into the conversation. “I was just talking to Elinor. She’s thinking of adopting a dog.”

  “Yeah? That’s a great idea.”

  Ally frowned, trying to figure out how Ben could be anti-dog in his own house but want his fiancée to adopt. Weren’t they planning to live together when they got married? Was the engagement a long-term thing?

  “She has a nice fenced yard, maybe she’ll want one of the bigger dogs. Or Harry? Smart dog for a smart woman.” He grinned at Ally. “I’m starting to get into this puppy matchmaking thing.”

  “That’s…great,” she stammered, unsure how she was supposed to respond. She loved his help—and Deenie’s. It was purely platonic help. And if his fiancée wanted a dog and he didn’t want one, it was none of her business.

  “I scored the last caramel pretzel brownie!” Deenie appeared so suddenly at her side that Ally jumped, spilling warm cider onto her hands. “Whoops. Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Hey, Ben.”

  “Hey, Deenie.”

  “You’re looking very festive today,” Deenie commented, flicking his scarf.

  Ben grimaced. “It’s my attempt to keep people from noticing I’m wearing the same sweater for the third time since my washer broke.”

  “When are you going to come use the washer and dryer at my place?” Ally demanded.

  “Ours is supposed to get fixed on Wednesday, but I promise I will take you up on that if this repair guy reschedules again. And I’m happy to help you hang those lights either way.”

  “Uncle Ben! We’re out of change!” Astrid called, and he grinned.

  “Duty calls.” He nodded to them both and rounded Astrid’s booth to help her.

  Ally only realized she was watching the pair of them when Deenie conspicuously cleared her throat. “So…Ben seems more relaxed.”

  Ally wiped the smile off her face. “What?” she asked, as if she hadn’t just been ogling another woman’s fiancé.

  “Nothing,” Deenie singsonged. “Come on. I hear there are made-to-order s’mores around here somewhere.”

  “Didn’t you just buy a brownie?”

  “That’s for later. S’mores are for now.”

  Deenie linked her arm with Ally’s, and she let herself be led along, refusing to look over her shoulder at Ben and Astrid.

  Chapter Twenty

  We’re finally doing this,” Mac marveled as he watched Connor expertly flick cards onto the felt of the poker table. “I thought poker night was officially dead.”

  “It hasn’t been that long,” Ben protested.

  “Four months,” Levi grunted, shielding his cards with one hand as he lifted the corners to study them.

  Ben shot him a look. “It can’t have been that long.”

  “No, it was August,” Connor confirmed. “Astrid was about to start school. You complained so much about back-to-school shopping I still have her school supplies list memorized.”

  Since Connor had a tendency to memorize everything he heard, Ben tried not to take the comment personally, until Levi added dryly, “Me too.”

  “We’ve had poker night since then. I distinctly remember planning one in October. I bought extra beer…” And then Astrid had gotten the flu and he’d canceled, and all that beer was still sitting in the basement fridge beside the onion dip that had probably gone bad. Did onion dip go bad?

  Levi’s grin was evil. “The extra beer is in there right now, isn’t it?” He leaned back, tilting his chair on its hind legs until he could snag the fridge door handle and pull it open. “Who wants?”

  Connor and Mac both gave an affirmative, and Levi somehow managed to load both hands with beer without tipping over and falling on his ass. When he flicked the door closed and tilted back upright again, he dropped four beers on the table, one in front of each of them, including Ben.

  “I shouldn’t drink tonight. Astrid…”

  “If you don’t want it, Connor’ll drink it, but I somehow doubt you having one drink and relaxing for the evening is going to hurt Astrid. It might even do her some good if you learn to unwind a little.”

  “Are you implying I’m wound too tight?”

  “Yes,” they all said in unison, and his jaw snapped shut on his retort.

  “I have a lot on my plate.” He reached for the beer, taking a defiant swig. “Is someone betting or what?”

  To Connor’s left, Mac started the betting, and for a few minutes they all focused on the game. Poker was serious business in this group—but so was trash-talking, so he wasn’t surprised when Levi eyed him a few minutes later and commented, “You been spending a lot of time out at that shelter. How’s Hal and Rita’s granddaughter looking these days?”

  Ben narrowed his eyes. “It’s not like that. We’re friends. I feel responsible for getting the shelter shut down, so I’m helping her find new homes for the dogs. Speaking of which, you looking for a new police dog? T
here’s this massive wolfhound mix named Maximus who would probably scare the ever-loving shit out of any criminals.”

  “I think Pine Hollow might be a little on the small side for a K-9 unit. Besides I wouldn’t know how to train one.”

  “So you hire someone for that. What about you, Mac?”

  Mac flipped two cards onto the table to be dealt two more. “Health code violation. Magda would use any excuse to shut my ass down.”

  Connor frowned at him. “You allow your customers to bring dogs into the restaurant.”

  “Yeah, but not into the back. My kitchen could double as a surgical suite it’s so clean, but one dog back there and Magda will have the health inspector so far up my ass I’ll feel them when I cough.”

  Ben snorted. Mac’s language always got more colorful when he was tipsy, and he was a total lightweight—one more beer and he’d be singing show tunes.

  “You know I won’t let her shut you down,” Connor said. “I can bury her in specious lawsuits until she can’t so much as sneeze without an attorney present, and she’ll back off.”

  “Relax, Dirty Perry, I’ve got this.”

  They all stared at Mac. Finally Levi drawled, “Dirty Perry?”

  “Like Perry Mason? Dirty Harry Perry Mason?” At their expressions he rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I hate you all.”

  A laugh burst out of Ben as Levi tipped back in his chair and Connor shook his head, both of them chuckling. They were right—it had been too long since they did this.

  The unfinished basement at Paul and Katie’s wasn’t nearly as nice as Connor’s palatial house overlooking the ski resort or even Mac’s apartment above the Cup, but what it lacked in walls and flooring it made up in amenities. Ben’s things that hadn’t landed in storage had wound up down here: a dartboard, the massive fridge that contained beer and guac and Ben’s not-so-secret junk food stash, the gorgeous poker table with its brushed felt, and a worn, overstuffed leather couch. Mac had crashed on that couch more times than he could count after he’d passed show tunes and transitioned into “I love you guys.”

  “Uncle Ben!” Astrid’s feet thundered down the basement steps. She tumbled into the room, breathless with excitement. “Dolce’s having her puppies! Can I go over to Ally’s? Mrs. Gilmore said I could be there.”

  Ben glanced at the time on his phone—they’d started poker night early since all of them had early mornings the next morning, but it was still nearly eight o’clock. “I don’t know, Astrid. It’s a school night. And I don’t want you walking over there by yourself in the dark. I’ll take you to see them tomorr—”

  “Deenie’s going, too! She said she could pick me up. Please, Uncle Ben? I’m never going to ever have another chance to see newborn puppies ever in my life and this could be a formative experience for me. I could put it in my college application essays—”

  Connor snorted, and Ben shot him a You’re not helping, asshole look. “You still have school tomorrow—”

  “I’ll be back before nine! I promise! If I’m not, you can take away all my Christmas presents and ground me until I’m ancient. Please? Please-please-please?” She clasped her hands together, looking downright pathetic.

  Ben glanced at his oldest friends, wondering what they thought of the show, and what they would think when he gave in. Because he’d just realized he was going to give in. “Okay,” he said finally. “But I want you back home, in the door, shoes off, before nine o’clock. It’s still a school night.”

  “Yes!” Astrid leapt into the air, clapping her hands, and then raced around the table to fling herself against his shoulder, hugging him tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best, Uncle Ben!”

  Then she was up the stairs in another rumble of footsteps.

  “I love that kid,” Connor commented as soon as she was gone. “Her emotional blackmail is top-notch. That thing about the college essays.” He lifted his fingertips to his lips for a chef’s kiss. “Magnificent.”

  “Who’s Deenie?” Levi asked, frowning. “I thought I knew everyone in town.”

  “Deenie Mitchell? Pink hair? Twenties? Does all those princess parties?”

  “I’m sorry, does what now?” Connor interrupted.

  “Princess parties,” Ben explained. “Little girls all dress up as princesses, and a woman dressed up like some cartoon princess leads them through a tea party. It’s a whole thing. Astrid’s group was super into it a couple of summers ago, and Deenie was the person to get if you wanted a successful princess party.”

  Connor looked mildly horrified. “I’m never having children. No offense.”

  “None taken. You can get a dog instead. May I recommend Partridge?”

  Mac handed Connor his empty and accepted another beer from Levi—show tunes imminent. “How is it you know everyone in town and we don’t? Levi polices them, and I feed them. You would think we’d know everyone…”

  “Yeah, but they complain to me. Join the town council. You’ll see. You meet everyone when they want to make sure you know exactly what you’re doing wrong.” He didn’t mention the mayor’s suggestion that he run for her office. He wasn’t sure which would be worse, their surprise or their support.

  “That Twelve Dogs feature is cool,” Connor said, flicking his ante into the center of the table. “Which one are you and Astrid adopting?”

  “None of them,” he insisted. “Not until I fix up this place, sell it, and move somewhere with a yard.”

  “So you invited us here to con us into adopting dogs, but you aren’t even willing to get one yourself?”

  “I just think they’d be good for you,” Ben defended.

  Connor arched an eyebrow. “With as much as I travel? I can’t have a dog.”

  “They have these amazing inventions. They’re called pet sitters.”

  “Ha.”

  Ben shrugged. “You were the one who was saying your house was too quiet. Wouldn’t it be great to have someone who was always happy to see you when you got home?”

  “Unlike Monica?” Connor drawled—and Ben realized too late he’d veered a little too close to the Subject Which Must Not Be Named. Connor’s ex had been the female version of himself—a type-A superachiever with a five-year plan and a color-coded sock drawer. They’d been two weeks away from their wedding when she declared that she wasn’t happy and ran off to India to study yoga.

  Connor had burned her copy of Eat, Pray, Love.

  Now he lived alone in the four-thousand-square-foot modern masterpiece he’d bought for the two of them, and the echoing emptiness of the place was a sore point.

  “I just thought a dog might be nice,” Ben offered.

  “You thought that? Or you thought you might score points with the pretty shelter lady if you help her find homes for all her dogs.”

  “I’m not trying to score points. It isn’t like that.” He hadn’t even thought of her that way. Not really. Yes, he liked spending time with Ally, and yeah, she was cute, but it was as if his brain acknowledged those truths and then put them in a box along with all the other things he didn’t have the mental bandwidth to deal with.

  “No?” Connor challenged. “So you wouldn’t mind if I asked her out?”

  “I don’t think she’s your type.”

  “Maybe I need to date someone who isn’t my usual type,” Connor argued.

  Ben couldn’t tell if he meant it or if he was just arguing to win—but it was annoying as hell. “Just leave her alone.”

  “Why?” Connor goaded. “Because you called dibs?”

  “She isn’t a piece of pizza. You can’t call dibs on a person.”

  “You know what I mean. Bro code shit. If you were into her, I would back off, but if you aren’t, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t want me and your new friend to be very happy together—”

  “Maybe she deserves better than you.”

  “Maybe,” Connor acknowledged. “Someone like you, perhaps?”

  “She’s moving back to New York,” he sn
apped.

  “I’m in New York for business all the time—”

  “Connor.” Levi’s voice was deep and hard, cutting across the table.

  Connor’s always-arguing mouth snapped shut and he shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

  “You know…” Mac swayed in his chair, fumbling one of the poker chips from his rapidly diminishing supply between his fingers. “When you guys were all engaged and I wasn’t, I always thought you were going to go off and leave me and it was going to kill poker night, but look at us now. Four single guys.”

  Silence hung hard over the table as they all stared at Mac.

  Open mouth. Insert foot. That was Mac.

  Mac opened his mouth again—and “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’” from Oklahoma! burst out.

  Levi chucked an empty beer koozie at his face. “No singing at the table!”

  * * *

  Two hours later, Ben shushed Mac again as he slung his friend’s arm over his shoulder and heaved him up the basement steps. Astrid had arrived home at five minutes to nine, gushing about the newborn puppies, and was currently two stories above them—hopefully soundly asleep in her bed, since tomorrow was a school day. But she wouldn’t stay that way for long if Mac kept singing.

  “I’m s’glad we did this,” Mac slurred happily as they staggered upward. “I love you guys. You know that?” He twisted in Ben’s grip, trying to see behind him where Connor and Levi were ready to catch him if he started to take a header downward. “I love you guys,” he bellowed. They all shushed him, and he nodded sagely, shout-whispering, “I love you guys!”

  “We love you, too,” Ben assured him.

  “How does anyone get that drunk off three beers?” Connor marveled.

  “I used to think he was faking it,” Levi commented from his position taking up the rear. “But if so, he’s been conning us consistently for fifteen years, and I don’t think Mac has that kind of endurance.”

  “You should date the dog lady,” Mac blurted, swaying as Ben opened the door at the top of the stairs and tried to shove him through. “We can all see that you like her. It’s okay to like somebody. You just gotta say, ‘Dog lady, I like you.’ And maybe she likes you, too.”