- -
- 100%
- +
With that, Queen Agnes turned and left.
They were dismissed.
* * *
AJ was thankful for the way Pepper and Sydney jumped in and distracted the customers who were kind enough to focus on the food and not the scene that had just unfolded. This left AJ free to do damage control with Shane.
“I am so sorry,” AJ said to Shane.
After being humiliated by her grandmother and dousing him in barbecue sauce, what else was there to say?
She wished she could blame her grandmother for unnerving her, but really, it was her own clumsy fault. She should have been more careful and watched what she was doing. Or as Grandmother would say, “her comportment had been lacking.” Again.
Shane was only a customer, after all. Not someone who should fluster her.
“Please don’t worry about it,” he said. “No harm. No foul. Now, if I’d been wearing my Dallas Mavericks jersey, that would’ve been another matter all together.”
“Lucky me. It’s not game day.”
“Yeah. Lucky you.”
She felt her hot skin blanch, until he grinned and winked at her. Then her cheeks went all hot again.
“The stain is drying to look like a bad tie-dye job,” she said.
He gazed down at the soiled area. “I haven’t worn a tie-dyed shirt since I was a teenager.”
“Well, there you go. Merry Christmas, a few months early. Here, let me get a pen and some paper and I’ll get your information for my grandmother.”
He tried to wave her off. “Let’s not. Please? Just tell her I left before you could get it.”
“Are you kidding me? You saw how my grandmother is. I’m not going to cross her again. So, wait right there.” Playfully, she pointed at him. “That’s an order.”
She grabbed a pen from her purse and picked up a napkin. She turned back to him, half expecting to see him walking away, but he was still there. He hadn’t left. He hadn’t stomped off in a furious huff—as if normal people actually stomped. Of course not. Only her grandmother did things like that. The fact remained that Shane was standing there, making light of her faux pas. At that moment, something inside of her shifted.
Besides being a very good-looking man, he seemed like a good man. If for no other reason than that, she wanted to get to know him better.
“Here,” she said, handing him the napkin and pen. “Write down your size, the brand of shirt you like—make it something expensive since Grandmother is paying. Also, write down your apartment number and your phone number. I am going to fix you dinner since I put you through all this trouble. I’ll call you and we can figure out what day this week would be good.”
He regarded her for a moment. Then he tore the napkin in half and handed a piece to her.
“I’ll need your number then. If I’m giving you my number, you have to give me yours. Call me old-fashioned, but I think the man should be the one to call and arrange the first date.”
“Date?” AJ sputtered. Did he think she was asking for his number to call and ask him out? She tried to think of a witty retort, something to put them back on level ground, but his words, “Call me old-fashioned,” resonated in her head.
“What? You don’t want to go out with me?” He frowned. “Are you rejecting me? Do you have a prejudice against men who smell like barbecue sauce?”
She loved the mischievous sparkle in his hazel eyes. Those eyes—with their green and brown and amber flecks—were almost hypnotizing.
“I don’t remember you asking me for a date. The last I remember is my offer to cook for you. What? You don’t like my cooking?”
Shane smiled and picked up one of the Tailgater sliders. He took a bite and chewed. AJ couldn’t help herself, her gaze dropped to his lips and for a moment, she lost herself, wondering if they tasted as good as they looked.
But then he swallowed the bite, and her gaze skittered back up to meet his. Their eyes locked.
“If today is any indication of your talents, I’m fairly certain I’ll fall in love with your cooking. But why don’t we start with a first date?”
Chapter Four
Shane couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked a woman out on a date. Sure, he’d enjoyed his fair share of feminine company over the years, but as far as asking someone out... It had been a long time since the traditionalist he’d claimed to be had surfaced as it had today.
The folded half napkin she’d written her number on was in his front right pocket. After he unlocked his truck and slid behind the wheel he reached in his pocket and took it out again.
The leather seats were warm, the heat penetrating through the legs of his jeans. Still, he sat there for a moment gazing at the black ink on the napkin, the numbers that would connect him to AJ.
But before that could happen, he had to get home and get the smell of barbecue sauce off him before it became his permanent scent.
He tucked away her phone number in the car’s console, turned the ignition key and the engine purred to life.
As the light turned green at the corner, he noticed that the hoodlums who were hanging out earlier were gone. However, right before Shane accelerated to get through the intersection, the same dog he’d seen loping through traffic as he walked to the square darted in front of his car.
He slammed on the brakes just in time, narrowly missing the mutt.
Did that family have a death wish for their dog? Surely, they didn’t. Maybe the animal was the crafty sort that got out despite their efforts to contain him, a regular Houdini.
Or maybe he was just an animal with wanderlust who hated to be confined. He could relate to that.
Shane pulled over and got out. He couldn’t just let the dog wander. No, the least he could do was see the dog home safely. Maybe the boys hadn’t closed the back gate or had inadvertently let him out as they started a new game of ball. Whatever the case, Shane decided, he would hand the dog over to an adult who would look after the creature.
By the time Shane got to the sidewalk, the dog was trotting along about thirty yards ahead. Shane whistled and to his surprise, the mutt turned and sprinted back to him.
The smelly animal jumped up on Shane’s legs, licking at the stain on the front of his shirt.
“Down, boy! Sit.” Shane put up a knee to discourage the jumping. Surprisingly, the dog obeyed and lowered himself to his haunches, calmly panting and looking up at Shane.
“We need to get you home before you get hurt.” He tested the dog’s demeanor by holding out his closed hand, which the dog sniffed and then licked. Shane gave him a few strokes, and then took a hold of the mutt’s collar, which, he noticed, had no tags. The good-natured animal trotted alongside Shane the entire two blocks to the house where he’d seen the boys shooting hoops. They weren’t in the driveway anymore. So Shane guided the dog up the bricked path onto the porch where he rang the doorbell.
A man who looked to be in his forties opened the door.
“Excuse me, but your dog has gotten out again,” Shane said. “I almost hit him. I don’t want him to get hurt.”
The man looked confused and shook his head. “That’s not my dog. We don’t have any pets. Wife’s allergic.”
Shane looked from the man to the dog then back again to the man. “But I saw your boys playing with him out in the driveway earlier this afternoon.”
“Must be a stray,” the man answered.
“Dad, who is it?” called a young voice. Seconds later, the smaller of the two boys he’d seen earlier with the dog poked his head around the doorjamb and looked at him. The boy reached out and petted the animal. The dog whined and panted appreciatively.
“Greg, don’t touch that animal.”
“Aww, but he’s a nice dog, Dad.”
“Yeah, I hear you and your brother were playing with him this afternoon. What have I told you about touching strays? They could have rabies. Now, go wash your hands.”
The boy mumbled something under his breath that Shane couldn’t hear, then disappeared from the doorway, leaving Shane and the dad face-to-face.
“If he’s not yours, do you know who he belongs to?” Shane asked. “I hate to see him running loose out there. That won’t do anyone any good.”
“That’s for sure. But sorry, I’ve never seen the mutt before. Maybe you can take him to animal control.”
“I’d hate to have to do that. You know what happens to animals there.”
“Wish I could help you, but...” The man shrugged again, then shut the door, leaving Shane and the dog on the porch.
“Now what are we going to do?” Shane asked the dog.
He let go of the collar to adjust his grip and was surprised when the dog didn’t sprint away. Instead, the animal sat down next to him, leaning his weight possessively against Shane’s leg and staring up at him with soulful brown eyes.
Since the sun would set in a couple of hours and Shane was coming up short on leads as to who the dog belonged to, there seemed to be only one option.
“You want to come home with me tonight?”
* * *
AJ didn’t expect Shane to call. Not that she was a pessimist, but since he’d been so adamant about taking her number and being the one who called for the date, she suspected it might have been his way of letting her down easy.
She all but snorted to herself. He was the one who’d called it a date. She’d simply offered to make dinner for him as compensation for the misery she and her grandmother had put him through.
She suspected he hadn’t known what he was getting himself into when he’d told Maya he would deliver the chocolates.
That’s why, as she dried the last of the equipment she’d used at the festival, she was more than surprised when her phone rang just after six-thirty, and it was Shane asking about...dog shampoo?
“A stray picked me up on the way home from the food festival,” he said. “It must have been because I smelled like barbecue.”
He laughed and she was glad to know he really did have a good sense of humor. So many guys would have gotten bent out of shape over being splattered with sauce—especially since he hadn’t really gotten to take in much of the festival before it happened.
It occurred to AJ, when applying her qualities-a-man-must-possess list to Shane, she could check off two more items: someone who didn’t take himself too seriously, and someone who was compassionate but masculine. He had to be compassionate if he picked up a stray dog. And masculine...well, all it took was one look at Shane Harrison and his masculinity was as apparent as red paint on a fire hydrant.
She paused, drying her wet hands on a dish towel, waiting for a feeling of absurdity to engulf her. But it didn’t. Maybe it was because he was the one who had brought up the possibility of having a date—and he had actually followed through on calling. In the same night, no less—even if it was to ask about dog shampoo. Actually, because of this, she didn’t feel quite as ridiculous dusting off the list and checking off items.
“Any idea if it’s safe to use people shampoo on a dog?” Shane asked. Judging by the noises coming from his end of the line, it sounded as if he were on a headset, like he was calling her as he drove.
Teetering on the edge of uncertainty—and it wasn’t just the shampoo question that made her hesitate—she smiled at the sound of his voice.
“I’m not sure, but I can look it up on my smartphone. Hold on a second.”
For the first time in a long time she, she was attracted to someone. It had been such a long time—since Danny had been killed. And it felt good for the butterflies to be back.
She waited for the old, familiar guilt to wash over her. Guilt that Danny was dead and she was here, lusting after another man.
No. Stop it.
It had been nearly five years since her fiancé had been killed in the line of duty.
He went to work one day and didn’t come home. He was gone. Just like that.
“I guess I could have done the same thing,” he said. “So if you’re in the middle of something, don’t worry about it.”
AJ shook away the thought, refusing to let the unchangeable past stand in the way of possibility. Danny would want her to start living again. Thirty-three was too young to put herself on a shelf.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I’ve been home for about an hour. I was just thinking about fixing myself some dinner. So let me look it up. You definitely shouldn’t web surf and drive.”
“I wouldn’t web surf and drive,” he said. “I’d pull over if I were going to do that.”
“At the rate you’re going, it’ll be midnight before you get home. Hold on, it’ll only take me a few seconds to search. But I’ll have the phone away from my ear while I’m investigating.”
“Okay, thanks,” he said. “I appreciate your help.”
She found a legitimate-looking article written by a veterinarian. “Nope. It says here that the pH of dog shampoo is two points different than people shampoo. Supposedly, that’s a huge difference. It says here, using products made for people can dry out a dog’s skin and cause all sorts of problems.”
“Well, that’s not what I wanted to hear. I guess that means I’ll have to stop by the store before I get back to the apartment. He’s so flea-infested, I may have to set off a bug bomb in my car. I don’t want to bring him in the house without bathing him first.”
“No bug bombs,” said AJ. “Use borax. I don’t want you to asphyxiate yourself. Do you have access to an outside hose at the apartment?”
“It’s a rent-by-the-week joint. There’s not even a pool I could throw him in, much less a spigot and hose for the renters’ convenience.”
“Bring him over to my house.” AJ’s stomach lurched at the boldness of her suggestion. But she would get to see him again. “We can wash him outside. And don’t worry. This is not a date. I’m just trying to save you from flea infestation.”
He made a sound that echoed with refusal. “I can’t bring this dirty animal and all his bugs over to you. You’ll never forgive me if you get an infestation.”
“Borax. I’m telling you, it’s good stuff. Bring him over. You can wash him in the driveway and let him dry on the back porch. He won’t even have to come in the house.”
* * *
By the time Shane stopped to pick up flea shampoo, dog food and a leash, it was after seven-thirty when he pulled into AJ’s driveway. Her house was a modest bungalow, perched atop a small hill about five miles from downtown. From the curb, the white clapboard structure with forest-green shutters looked typical for Celebration, but he had a feeling the place AJ called home would be far from typical.
He walked around to the passenger side of his car, opened the door and hooked the new leash to the dog’s collar. As free-spirited as the animal had seemed wandering downtown footloose and fancy-free, he was remarkably tame, sitting on the jacket Shane had spread over the front seat to protect the leather seat from the dog’s overgrown toenails. He’d have to dry-clean his jacket before he could wear it again because it probably reeked of dirty dog—the same way his car smelled right now.
As he gave the mutt a few strokes, it struck him that except for being filthy and hungry, the mutt was in relatively good shape. Plus, he was wearing a collar—even if it was missing its tags. Shane frowned. Somewhere out there a family was missing a dog. Either that or the animal had been dumped.
“Do you belong to someone, buddy?”
The dog whined in response, looking up at Shane with adoring chocolate eyes.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
They rang the doorbell and AJ answered a moment later, stepping outside.
“Hey,” she said. She’d changed out of her chef’s coat and was wearing a red T-shirt that hugged her curves in all the right places and jean shorts that made the most of her tanned legs.
“Hi.” She looked way too good for washing a dog. Though he didn’t really expect her to roll up her sleeves and dive in. “Thanks for letting us come over.”
Her gaze dropped to the area of his stomach. Suddenly, he realized he was still wearing the same stained shirt from earlier that day. In all the commotion with the dog, he’d forgotten. He should’ve gone home and changed. For that matter, he should’ve gone home and showered and shaved, too. Maybe bringing the dog over here wasn’t such a great idea after all. He could’ve just whisked him into the apartment shower and taken his chances.
But a little voice inside of him reminded him that the reason he was here was because he wanted to see her again. Not very good planning, but here he was. Here they were.
“Nice shirt,” she said, kneeling down in front of the dog and stroking his ears.
“Yeah, this is the best dog-washing outfit I own.”
She laughed. It sounded genuine and that made him feel better.
“What’s his name?” AJ asked.
“Name? He doesn’t have one. He’s a stray.”
“Oh, you poor boy,” AJ cooed to the mutt. “He needs a name. You can’t just keep calling him ‘dog.’”
Uh-oh. Shane leaned against the porch rail. “You name a dog, you get attached. I can’t get attached right now.”
“You have something against getting attached?” Her tone was light, but her frown made him think his answer was important to her.
Weighing his words, Shane looked at her for a moment—noticing her gorgeous blue eyes and sleek blond hair. “Animals. I don’t get attached to animals. I can’t keep this dog. My assignment here ends in six weeks. Then I’m heading to Europe. I can’t take a dog with me.”
Weighty silence settled around them. Then the buzz of the cicadas sliced through the stillness, making the stagnant, humid air feel like it was vibrating. Through it all she just kept looking at him, as if what he’d said didn’t make sense.
So, he tried to explain. “Taking on a dog is a huge responsibility. I can’t keep him. I just...can’t.”
AJ stood up. “I get it.” She dusted off her hands and looked him square in the eyes. “They’re a commitment. Come on, let’s go in the backyard and wash him.”
She took the dog’s leash and led the way to a gate in the white picket fence that surrounded her backyard. Walking behind her, Shane tried not to watch the way her hips swayed. Or notice how nicely her butt filled out the shorts—another treasure that was hidden by the shapeless chef’s coat. He also fought the urge to explain himself, but he lost.
“When I leave there’s no way I can take him with me.”
Smooth. Real smooth.
He should’ve kept his mouth shut, the way she did when they passed through the gate into the backyard. She simply pointed toward the garden hose, which was neatly coiled around a caddy attached to the house. Shane walked over and began unraveling it.
As he worked, he felt her watching him. “So, you’re telling me that because you travel so much you never get attached? To anyone or anything? You just float from port to port?”
“No, I don’t float, and I don’t have ports. That’s the navy. The army has bases. But no—I mean yes. I mean it’s not that I consciously decide not to get attached. It’s just difficult because I’m so...”
“Transient?” She looked horrified.
He snorted, unsure of whether to laugh off her comment or take her seriously. But the fact that he could see virtual walls that had gone up around her made him believe there was a hint of truth to her question.
He had to admit she’d struck a nerve in him, too. He didn’t run from commitment, as she seemed to imply. Basically, he was married to the army and it wasn’t fair to anyone or anything, as the case may be, to form other attachments. Especially in a place like Celebration, where he’d only be spending six weeks.
It was best to change the subject.
“Do you have a dog?” he asked.
AJ shook her head.
“You could take him. Hey! That would work. You could name him and keep him and take care of him.”
AJ shot daggers at him with those blue eyes. She held up her hands. “I work too much to take on the responsibility of a dog.”
He turned on the hose. “So, you work too much to make a commitment. Because a dog is a commitment, right? You said so yourself.”
He winked at her, trying to lighten the mood.
She made a clucking noise. “Okay. Point taken.”
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