Hush, Puppy

by Roxanne St Claire

  The confession fired a new kind of heat through her, as sexy as his fingers and his kisses. Sexier.

  “Same,” she whispered.

  He frowned, doubtful. “You think I’m nice. Sweet, I think, is the word you use the most.”

  “That’s a euphemism,” she told him, stroking his beard and looking into his eyes.

  “For what?”

  “For…take me to bed or lose me forever.”

  He didn’t laugh, but stayed very still. The only muscle moving was his heart, and it was going as fast as hers. “You don’t want to test out the couch?” There was enough of a glimmer in his eyes that she knew he was teasing.

  “We could start here.” She bowed her back a little, offering her chest. “Maybe leave some clothes in this room and a trail to the next.”

  “Good plan.” He tugged the fabric down, his eyes and mouth following as he exposed her breasts. “Beautiful…oh God, Summer.”

  He pressed his mouth to her skin, searing her, tickling her, making her rock against him and dig her fingers into his back as they moved in a natural rhythm that had been building since the day they met.

  Body to body, hip bone to hip bone, mouth to mouth.

  He cupped her breast, circling his thumb, kissing her mouth as she pulled at his T-shirt to get to his hot, smooth skin. Bunching the material in a fist, she arched again, hissing in a breath as his hand magically moved to a whole different place, under her skirt, against her thigh.

  Everything vibrated and hummed, blood coursing through her as she eased her legs apart, eager for his touch.

  “Who could possibly want me that badly?” he asked.

  “Um, me?”

  He shook his head and pushed up. “You don’t hear my phone blowing up?”

  “I thought that was me blowing up.”

  “Oh, you will.” He gave her a heated look, and he sat up and hitched his head toward the end table where she could now see the light and hear the vibration of his phone. “Just let me make sure a restaurant isn’t burning down or something. Do not move, Summer Jackson.”

  “Just a little move.” She put her hands on the button of his shorts, pressing her palms against him as she started to unzip. “This move.”

  He groaned. “Good move. Just…” He turned and grabbed the phone, nearly fumbling it as she unbuttoned the fly. Taking a steadying breath, he squinted at the phone, then he shook his head. “Some…restaurant review Alex wants me to see.”

  “Oh. Hope it’s as good as…this.” She lowered the zipper and touched him, letting out an appreciative moan. He was just about to toss the phone on the ottoman when he froze and blinked, pulling the phone closer to read it again. “What the hell?”

  Her hand stilled. “Not a good review?”

  “What the…oh no. Oh no.”

  “What is it?” All the fire in her body instantly cooled at the look on his face and the tone of his voice.

  “It’s…oh…” He murmured a curse, rare and rough enough for her to push up and absently pull her top up over her breasts.

  “What is it, John? What kind of review could be that bad?”

  “It’s on a very highly regarded review blog called ‘America’s Best Diners and Delis’ by ‘Black Jack’ Jennings.”

  “How is that so bad? Did he hate the food? The service?” She tried for a smile. “The hostess?”

  “Black Jack always visits for breakfast, never lets you know he’s there, and…” He turned the phone. “Orders three meals.”

  Oh God. Suddenly, she realized why he looked like his whole world had just crumbled. She finally tore her gaze from his face to look at the phone, seeing the bright orange headline against the black screen.

  I WOULD NEVER MISS THIS MEAL.

  Meal…not Deal.

  She skimmed the first line. Santorini’s has everything I wanted…

  “He wasn’t the investor.” The words strangled her. “I read his screen…wrong.” She looked up at him, her heart breaking so hard she could feel her chest ache. “And you…”

  “Might have just made the worst business decision of my life.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Summer hadn’t been kidding about her issues with guilt. From the moment John got the text the night before—killing the mood at the worst possible time—to this afternoon, when she and Destiny came downstairs to go to Waterford Farm for the day with him, Summer couldn’t stop apologizing.

  “It’s not your fault,” John assured her for the tenth time after she buckled Destiny into a car seat in the back of his SUV, and he helped Mav scramble into the seat next to her. But his words were falling on deaf ears, based on the stricken look in Summer’s blue eyes when she met him at the back of the car.

  “I can’t believe I was so certain about what I saw,” she said. “Of course, there was light on the screen, and I must have seen three letters and imagined the first one. The brain works like that, you know.”

  “First of all, it was a killer review with nothing but raves for food, service, and atmosphere.” He put both hands on her cheeks, adding gentle pressure. “Second, I’ll figure it out. No regrets. No guilt. No wallowing. Should I bring the karaoke machine?”

  She shook her head as if the non sequitur threw her. “Why would you?”

  “In case she gets bored.”

  “With all those dogs?”

  “Or Ella wants to hear her sing so she can be in chorus instead of softball next week.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip like he’d hurt her.

  “What?”

  “You have huge business problems, and you’re worried about Destiny’s camp activities, that’s what. You’re so…” She put her hand over his and nuzzled her cheek against his palm. “I won’t say it, but Nice Man is your call sign.”

  “Iceman, Summer.” He tapped his chest. “Nothing but a block of ice in here.”

  She tried to smile, but only leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder when he wrapped his arms around her. “I am so sorry, John.”

  “Stop it.”

  She drew her head back to look up at him. “If that investor doesn’t come through, are you obligated to pay the higher price on the property?”

  Ethically, yes. “You’re not giving up on our secret shopper, are you? He just hasn’t shown up, but he will. He could be there tomorrow, the staff will wow him, and he’ll fork over the cash. Problem solved. We’re worrying too soon about something that hasn’t happened.”

  “But you wouldn’t have increased your offer if I hadn’t been so certain that he was the investor…” She moaned. “I feel awful.”

  “You’re wrong,” he said, holding her a little tighter.

  “You would have increased your offer?”

  “You don’t feel awful. You feel amazing.” He ran his hands up and down her sides, easing her into him, remembering how soft the silky bits of her skin that he did get to touch last night felt under his fingers. “And the worst part of all this?”

  She looked up, a question in her eyes.

  He leaned his head down so their foreheads touched. “What didn’t happen last night.”

  She smiled up at him. “Hey, we can buzz the tower another time, Pete Mitchell.”

  “God, I love the way you think.” He lowered his face and kissed her lightly. She kissed him back, not so lightly, then sucked in a breath, froze for a second, and looked to her right…where Destiny had turned in her car seat and was staring at them through the back window.

  “Whoa,” he murmured, backing away. “Forgot there’s an audience.”

  “Oh boy,” she said through a stiff smile and a quick wave. “This ought to be an interesting conversation.”

  He started toward the driver’s side door, then held up a finger as an idea occurred. “We need a deflection. Where is it?”

  “Where’s…oh.” She laughed softly. “In our living room. Want my key?”

  “There’s one hidden under the planter up there,” he said.

  “R
eally?” She gave him a sultry wink. “You should use it sometime.”

  That made him smile as he jogged up the stairs to her apartment, snagged the karaoke machine, and returned to the car. Summer had already gotten inside when he opened his door and held the toy up for Destiny to see, not at all certain how she might look at him after the kiss she’d witnessed.

  “You can sing on the way to Waterford,” he said cheerfully.

  She just stared at him, her lovely expression impossible to read. Man, this one was going to drive the boys crazy when she grew up.

  “Would it make you ha-ha-happy?” she asked. “Mommy said you’re sad.”

  “And that’s why I hugged you,” Summer added.

  Ohhh. Got it. “I’m not that sad,” he said. “Just figuring out my problems.”

  “Because you don’t have money?”

  He blinked at that, and Summer whipped around. “Destiny Rose! I never said that. And it’s not polite to talk about money.”

  “But I heard him, Mommy. When I took Mav to the grass, and you were drinking coffee.”

  What had he said when they sat outside and watched Destiny walk Mav this morning?

  “You said you d-d-did not have money in your h-h-hand.”

  No, he’d said he didn’t have that kind of extra cash on hand. “Well, it’s complicated, kiddo, but I am not worried or sad.”

  “Then why did you need a hu-hu-hug?”

  He let out a sigh and shared a look with Summer. “Because…”

  “Because I like to hug John.” Summer stepped in for the save. “He’s my friend.”

  Destiny nodded slowly, and whether she was buying that was anyone’s guess, but John had to believe she was far too young to think in terms of an adult relationship.

  He slid behind the wheel and pulled his seat belt. “But what I really need is the Destiny Rose version of ‘You Are My Mavvie.’ Right now, please.”

  She giggled a little, unclipped the microphone, and there was music—of sorts—all the way to Waterford. Even Summer seemed to let go a little of her guilt, and they were all smiling when he pulled into the long drive and counted cars.

  “Full house today,” he said, waving to Ella, who had just parked near the pen.

  “How’s our little patient?” she called as she strolled toward John’s car.

  “She’s a hundred percent,” John assured her, opening Destiny’s door to help her out of the car seat. “You can ask her yourself.”

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Ella said, giving a high five to Destiny and laughing when Maverick bounded out behind her. “How ya feelin’?”

  “Good,” she whispered, holding the karaoke box tight to her chest.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Ella’s voice rose with excitement as she dropped to her knees in front of Destiny.

  “It’s my kar-kar-kar…singing box.”

  “Do you know that I used to play with that toy every single day when I was little?”

  Destiny stared at her, shaking her head slowly while John and Summer watched.

  “My cousin Darcy and I would dress up in costumes and sing our hearts out for hours with that very toy. We have a stage we made up in Gramma Finnie’s apartment on a window seat. It’s the best place to sing!” She put her hands on Destiny’s little shoulders. “We won the Bitter Bark Elementary School Talent Show with that very karaoke box! It’s so lucky.”

  Destiny’s smile grew, mostly because everything about Ella was simply infectious.

  “Will you sing for me today? Up on that stage?”

  And the smile disappeared.

  “I mean, you don’t have to. You can sing for me tomorrow at camp,” Ella said. “But I would love to hear you. Darcy and I will give it a try, too. Would you like that?”

  She nodded, still silent.

  “I’ll go tell her.” She popped up and waved, heading off toward the house.

  Destiny stared after her, then looked up at Summer. “I want to sing,” she said softly.

  “Good,” Summer said. “I’m pretty sure you’ll never have a more forgiving or enthusiastic crowd.”

  “B-b-but I can’t,” she added on a sad sigh, the very tone of it hitting John somewhere deep in the gut. “I’m s-s-scared.”

  “Oh, Des,” Summer said. “You can trust these people.”

  But it wasn’t the people she didn’t trust, John mused. It was herself. Her ability…her disability. He touched his glasses and remembered how he’d loathed them when he realized they could hold him back from baseball…from flying…hell, from girls.

  Just then, Mav saw another dog and took off, startling Destiny, who bolted after him, dropping the karaoke machine. Instantly, the ancient cassette holder popped open, and the handle cracked off, making her let out a soft cry of despair.

  “I got it,” John said quickly. “I can fix it.”

  “But Mav…” Destiny pointed to the dog dashing off toward the front entrance, which led to the street.

  “I’ll get him,” Summer said, already on her way. “You fix the box.”

  Destiny looked from one to the other, a little overwhelmed.

  “Hey, hey, no worries, kiddo.” He knelt down and picked up the plastic cassette cover and snapped it into place, giving the play button a try. “There, it still works.”

  “But it’s broken,” she whispered.

  “Just the handle.” He turned it over to see how bad the damage was. Bad. “But you can still use it.”

  “I d-d-don’t want to,” she said sullenly.

  “You don’t want to use it to sing, or you don’t want to sing in front of the people?”

  She looked over her shoulder at Summer, who’d caught Mav about fifty yards away. “I do want to sing,” she said softly. “But I c-c-can’t.”

  “Destiny,” John said, “you can sing. Better than about ninety percent of the world.”

  “But I can’t talk,” she insisted on a breathy whisper.

  For a moment, he didn’t say anything, grazing his fingers over the broken plastic handle, thinking of how to phrase his thoughts so they could help her.

  “You know, when I was a kid, a little bit older than you are, I found out I had to wear glasses. I couldn’t see much of anything without them.”

  She stared at him, suddenly rapt by his confession.

  “I was so unhappy,” he told her. “It meant I had to wear these really goofy-looking glasses to play baseball. None of the other kids had to wear them, but my dad got them for me, and pretty soon I forgot about having to wear them.”

  “I’m not that g-g-good at baseball,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You’re good at singing. A couple years later, I found out I couldn’t do the one thing—the only thing—I wanted to do in the whole world, because of my eyesight.”

  “What?”

  “Fly planes. Well, a special kind of plane that no one can fly unless they have perfect vision. I was sad again.”

  She didn’t say a word, but something was sinking in. He had to believe that.

  “That’s when I learned that no matter what happens or what doesn’t work or what breaks…” He held up the handle. “If you really believe in yourself, you can find a way to make your dream come true. Whether it’s baseball or flying or…singing.”

  Only then did he realize that Summer was standing behind him, listening.

  “So…” He held the toy out to Destiny. “You think about it, and if you’re comfortable, you can sing. If you don’t want to…”

  She made a face. “Crafts.” She took the plastic box, holding it from the bottom.

  “And I bet I can snag some duct tape around here. I can fix that for you.”

  She nodded and turned, using one hand to beckon Mav, who trotted off with her.

  He stood slowly, holding Summer’s gaze as he rose.

  “That was some life lesson,” she said.

  “Nah.” He shrugged. “Nothing you couldn’t pick up in, say, an old Rolling Stones song. You can
’t always get what you want, you know.”

  “But sometimes…” She put her hands on his face, rose up on her toes, and planted a kiss. “You get exactly what you need.”

  * * *

  “Christian’s taking it kind of hard.” Andi Kilcannon brushed back a lock of hair and glanced at her husband, Liam.

  “I’m afraid my son is suffering a bad case of puppy love,” he said.

  “I assume he’s here today?” Summer asked, glancing around for their little boy or his big German shepherd.

  “He took his little sister to see some dogs in the kennel,” Andi said.

  “I’ll talk to Destiny,” Summer promised. “She needs to forgive him.”

  John joined them, handing a Bloody Mary to Summer. “I have good news,” he announced to the small group.

  “Destiny is talking to Christian?” Summer so hoped her little girl could rise above the softball incident and let dear little Christian off the hook.

  “Not at the moment. She’s in Gramma Finnie’s upstairs apartment with Darcy and Ella…singing.”

  “How’d they get her up there?”

  “That’s the other news,” he said with a soft laugh. “Alex and Grace introduced her to Gertie, Jack, and Bitsy, and she saw…future Mav.”

  “Oh.” Summer lifted her glass in a mock toast. “She’s not a fan of large dogs, so you may get to keep yours after all.”

  “Maybe.” He clinked her glass with his own. “And she really is singing up there.”

  “With…an audience?” Summer asked.

  “Probably a small one, but enough that she can feel confident to sing at camp tomorrow and bypass the dreaded crafts.”

  Her heart just about folding in half, Summer reached for his hand. “Thank you for caring so much about her,” she whispered, softly enough so that Liam and Andi, who were talking to each other, might not have heard.

  He gave her a wink in acknowledgment of the compliment. “Want to go watch? I don’t think she’d mind if we joined.”

  She glanced at Andi, not wanting to be rude and just drop the subject of Christian. “I will talk to her,” she promised again. “And if you like, I’ll talk to him.”

  “I don’t think he wants you—or Destiny—to know his true feelings,” Andi said, the warmth of a mother’s love coming through her eyes. “But it’s killing me to see him mope like this. First crush and all.”