Chapter 6
- LOGAN -
“Oooh, pretty.” My niece is toying with the overlay of the wedding invitation I received from Annapolis. It’s laser cut paper that looks like elegant lace, fastened by a blush pink bow that only my niece can fully appreciate.
I’m more of an e-invitation kind of guy.
“Is this from a princess?” she asks. At her age, everything is princesses and fairy tales and happy endings. I hope she enjoys this stage while it lasts. Because, damn it all, it won’t.
I open the bow for her. “No. It’s just a wedding invitation,” I say bringing disappointment to her eyes. It’s for Bess’s wedding, someone I only ran into a few times while I was in Annapolis, but my friend Maeve is the Maid of Honor. I’d bet my next paycheck—if I had one—that Maeve hand-picked the invitations herself.
“When I get married, I want to have invitations like these.”
“Then you’ll have them, honey,” I tell her confidently. There’s nothing too good for my brother’s only child. He’ll have white doves deliver the invitations if she wants it.
“Are you going?”
I wince at the thought. I hate weddings, especially going stag. But I feel a pinch of guilt for the regrets that I’m destined to send back as a reply. Maeve warned me the invitation was coming. Bess doesn’t exactly have a huge family and Maeve’s trying to bulk up the bride’s side of the aisle.
Since my family’s pretty big, three brothers and seven cousins, and about twenty SEAL brothers, I shouldn’t even be able to relate to Bess’s predicament. But the idea of not having them, any of them, is like a punch in the gut.
Besides, she’s marrying an Army guy. A Ranger. She’s going to need all the support she can get. “I might,” I finally reply with a sigh as Hannah sits back down to our game of Battleship. Playing a board game is always a daylong event with Hannah, as she flits about the room in between moves, distracted by whatever happens to land within her line of sight.
I can imagine the struggle the poor kid is having in school and it breaks my heart.
“E4.” My niece stares at me, her eyes steely and determined. She looks almost menacing from her expression, despite the pigtails popping out from the sides of her head.
I glance down at my tiny plastic ships on my board, and frown. “Hit. Submarine.”
Her face lights up, like it always does. To see her smile like that, I’d gladly throw any game of Battleship. Fact is, though, I’m not throwing the game at all. She’s whipping my ass like she always does. She’s got an instinct for games that is unreal, and as soon as she is old enough, I’m taking her to Vegas.
I press my little red peg into my partially sunken sub when I hear the doorbell ring.
“He’s here!” She jumps up from the table and races to the door.
I dart behind her and stop her from swinging it open. “Now remember, this dog is new to you, so let him approach you, okay? And if he doesn’t seem into you, don’t push it.” Sounds like I’m giving her dating advice about ten years too early, but I’m not. I’m seriously worried about how this might go. My niece is my everything. She has a pretty hard time making friends at school, and the last thing I want to do is bring a dog into her world that might reject her. Or worse, bite her.
“I know, Uncle Logan. I know.” Hannah’s eyes roll, exasperated.
I open the door and Kosmo immediately strides toward her, sniffing. I watch them like a hawk, looking for any sign of displeasure from either of them. I know Allie is there, too, on the other end of the leash, but I can’t even glance her way right now. Kosmo is almost face-high to Hannah, and I see just how vulnerable small children can be to big dogs. My heart is in my throat.
“Hi, Kosmo,” Hannah says, reaching out to pet him. He licks her arm and she giggles. He immediately drops down to the ground and rolls on his back for a belly rub.
“That’s a good sign.”
Only now do I glance up at Allie, who isn’t even looking at me. She’s watching the two of them, too, and I’m grateful for it. She’s dressed up again, like she was that night I met her.
“Hi, Allie,” I reach out my hand awkwardly to shake hers. Considering the first night we met, I’m not really sure how to greet this woman. “This is my niece, Hannah.”
Allie holds her hand out to Hannah and my niece takes it in her wrong hand and gives it an enthusiastic shake.
Hannah returns to rubbing Kosmo’s belly and he is basking in the attention. “Oh, you’re a nice doggie. Can he come off the leash?”
“Sure.” Allie shuts the door behind her and detaches Kosmo’s leash.
I sit on the ground with my niece, confident now this is a good match for all of us. “How are you doing, bud?” I scratch his belly lightly and his back legs quiver, telling me I found a sweet spot.
“Um, I have some paperwork and a few of his toys in the car.” Allie tosses her head in the direction of the door.
“Want me to get them?”
“No, that’s okay.”
Allie slips out, and my eyes can’t help following her. She’s in a torso-hugging peach t-shirt and a short skirt that is made of some kind of jersey material. She looks like she’s headed to a picnic. Her brown hair is swooped up into a high ponytail, revealing a dark mole at the base of her neck. And for the life of me, I have the distinct urge to kiss it.
I give myself a shake as the door shuts behind her and look at my niece, who is still petting Kosmo. “So, do you like him?”
“I love him,” she says, dipping her head low to the ground and embracing him while he lies prone on his back. If there were ever a position that a dog might growl at a child, this would be it, essentially trapped against the ground. But Kosmo is savoring the attention.
“Just keep your face away from his, hon,” I remind her. I can’t help being a little cautious. Since I was always out rescuing strays as a kid, I was bit by my fair share. It’s not something I want to happen to Hannah. But the more I’m seeing them together, the less I worry. And I worry plenty about this little girl.
When Allie comes in, we move to the kitchen table so that I can sign some paperwork and write her a check for the adoption fee. When she glances upward at me as I hand her the check, I swear I think I see a few unshed tears in her eyes.
“Thanks,” she says. “I know he’s found a really good home here.” She glances toward the couch which Kosmo has already decided is his. My niece is still petting him, and fur is flying everywhere.
Pressing her lips together as she watches the two of them, she gives a nod as though to reassure herself.
“How long have you had Kosmo?” I find myself asking. I hadn’t really considered her feelings in all of this. How hard would that be, to rescue a dog from the shelter and then have to hand him over to someone else for the rest of his life?
“Six months. A little longer than most my dogs because he was a lot harder to rehome.”
“Well, I’ll take good care of him.”
“I’m sure you will.” Her face frowns, and she bites her bottom lip. “And will you let me know how his surgery goes?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks. And if there’s anything he needs. Really—even if you need a dog sitter while he’s recovering, because you probably will want someone around then.”
“I’ll clear my schedule so I can be with him when he needs me. My hours are pretty much my own. But I will definitely call you if I need anything,” I add simply because I think she needs to hear it.
She nods as she reaches for the signed paperwork. For some reason, I don’t want her to leave. I want to find out more about her and this passion for rescuing dogs she has. “We were going to order Chinese tonight. Hannah loves egg rolls. You can join us, if you’d like.”
“Oh, no. That’s okay. Thanks, though.”
“Really, it would be great. That way Kosmo doesn’t feel abandoned, you know?”
Biting her lip, she seems to hesitate, her eyes transfixed on Hannah and Kosmo snuggling on the couch like the two had been raised together. Her eyes then dart to me and I feel this strange shooting sensation in my heart when her gaze locks on mine. There’s something about her, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Like she reminds me of someone I knew in another life, if I believed that sort of bullshit.
But for the record, I don’t.
I decide to push. “So, what do you like? Are you more a General Tso’s chicken or shrimp fried rice kind of girl?”
A smile touches her lips. “General Tso’s chicken. Extra spicy.”
I’m wondering if there was any flirtation in what she just said. I’m really hoping there is. Because even though Hannah is here tonight, I’ve got plenty of other nights this week when I wasn’t planning on sharing company with anyone but my new dog. And as I look at Allie, I can’t help remembering how she tasted.
“You got it.” I pull up the menu on my laptop and order enough food for a feast. Hannah likes taking a couple bites out of everything, and I think it’s good that she wants to sample all that life has to offer, so I don’t make her hold herself back when she orders eight different entrées. Trouble is, I always end up with about a week’s worth of meals for leftovers.
While we wait for the food to be delivered, we move to the backyard, where Kosmo is involved in a slow game of fetch with Hannah. He runs out of energy quicker than most dogs, but I was expecting that. And Hannah seems pretty content petting him for five minutes in between each throw.
“Your niece is precious, Logan.”
“She is. Can’t say I had anything to do with it, but yes, she is.”
“Does she visit you often?”
“Whenever I can convince her dad to let her come over. Ryan’s divorced, and only gets her on the weekends. So he has a pretty rough time parting with her. But we all get together at my parents’ house a couple Sundays a month for dinner. Kosmo will love it there. Lots of table scraps.” I glance at Allie briefly as we sit on the back step of the porch. “So what got you into the dog rescue business?”
“My dad—” she begins, then hesitates, seeming to change direction. “When I graduated from college last year, I went to the pound to get a dog and found out it was a high-kill shelter just because there weren’t enough people adopting dogs. So I decided to foster, rather than adopt. I got a few other people to do it with me, and the rest is history, I guess.”
She sends me a meek smile, and I’m trying to register what she just said. Something about fostering and a high-kill shelter. But my head is still reeling from the words, “When I graduated from college last year…”
“You just graduated last year?” I can’t help myself.
She nods.
Shit. “So you’re 23?”
“24, actually. I skipped a semester when—”
Again, she cuts herself off. I think I’ve never met a woman who liked talking about herself less.
“—I needed a break,” she finishes evasively.
Holy crap. “You look…” I catch myself before saying it, thank God, because no woman wants to be told she looks a lot older.
“Older,” she finishes for me. She nods. “Yeah, I know. I get that a lot.”
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I nearly picked up a kid practically fresh out of college in a bar. Seriously, after my last catastrophe, that’s not my style. 24 is way too young for a cynical former Navy SEAL with more baggage than a 757 bound for Miami during Spring Break.
“So…” I pull my eyes from hers, keeping my hormones in check. 24, I remind myself. I go for women closer to my age. The kind with issues. That way I won’t look like such a hot mess by comparison. “Your sales job must not make you travel much, then.”
She stares at me, looking slightly baffled.
“Sales. You had told me you were in sales.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s actually why I love my job. I never have to drive further than an hour or so. And I get to be home a lot.”
“What do you sell?”
She nearly chokes on the soda she is sipping as she looks at me, wide-eyed. Her cheeks blush as my niece heads in our direction with a wet dog toy in her hand.
“Um—it’s probably a little too graphic for present company, if you know what I mean,” she mumbles vaguely as Hannah closes in, with Kosmo only inches behind.
I nod, guessing it’s some kind of medical equipment like catheters or scalpels, and too gory to be described in front of a seven-year-old. There are a few companies based outside of Dayton like that and, outside of JLS Heartland, they tend to be the bigger employers.
“And that’s just a side job,” she continues. “My main job is working for a small nonprofit.”
“Dog-related?”
She laughs. “Not really. It’s actually an organization that promotes the vegan lifestyle.”
I pause, taking in this information. “But you’re not—”
“Vegan? No. I tried it for a few days once and failed miserably.”
I sigh, relieved that I’m not taking her down the dark path by ordering General Tso’s chicken for her tonight. “I was going to say, I’m pretty sure you ate a steak at the hotel restaurant.”
“Best steak I’ve had in a long while.”
She must not get out much, because the steaks there are way below par. If she weren’t so young, I’d invite her to a place I know in Dayton that serves a really good steak.
But she is young, I remind myself.
Hannah hands her the wet dog toy. “Want to try? Kosmo can catch it before it even hits the ground. I trained him.”
“I saw that. You’re really a good dog trainer, Hannah. So, how do I get him to do this exactly? I don’t think I’ll be as good at it as you,” Allie says.
I love that she makes Hannah feel good about herself. I’m not sure what goes on in that school my niece attends, but it seems to be chiseling away at her self-esteem.
Watching her with my niece I feel somewhat vindicated that I misjudged Allie’s age. It’s not the way she looks. She looks 24. But something in her eyes seems almost… tired. Like she’s seen just enough to be a little more burned-out on life than others her age.
No, I’d guess her age to be around 28. 28 is doable for me. There’s a world of difference between 24 and 28 in my book. At 24, I was a fresh-faced, newly promoted Lieutenant JG looking to charge through life without thinking twice. Four years later, I had made it through my first two SEAL missions and was well on my way to becoming the sardonic pain-in-the-ass I am today.
After Hannah retreats to the other side of the yard as Kosmo sniffs something intriguing along the fence line, Allie looks over at me, her gaze wandering appreciatively over my pecs. She glances away briefly before asking, “So why aren’t you in the Navy anymore? Your commander said you were pretty amazing when I called him for a reference. Got a silver medal, or something.”
I laugh. “Silver Star.”
She blushes again, and I hate how attractive she looks when the pink rushes to her cheeks. “Sorry. I’m not really up on the whole military thing,” she says.
“That’s all right. But I thought you said your dad was a vet?”
“Veterinarian,” she corrects, and I’m realizing just how little she really talked about herself at dinner that night. I must have monopolized the conversation.
“So anyway, why’d you get out?” she asks.
I stretch my legs and watch Hannah in the distance, keeping my voice low. I never like her hearing this sort of thing. “I was shot in my shoulder pretty bad. Wouldn’t have stopped me from staying in, but it’s my dominant shoulder, so I have a harder time with an assault rifle.” I skip mentioning the fact that I had a solid six months during which I couldn’t sleep more than an hour at a time. Or the fact that the eerie silence of nighttime in Newton’s Creek brings my blood pressure up at least twenty points.
Her brow pinches with concern. “I’m sorry. There wasn’t someplace else they could use you?”
“Oh, sure. I could have stayed in the Navy or even commanded with an injury like mine. But I can’t be a SEAL. And that’s all I ever wanted to be.”
“That’s terrible.”
I hate people’s pity, but there doesn’t seem to be pity in her eyes. Only understanding. So I don’t mind. Giving a shrug, I say, “It worked out fine. My family’s going through some stuff right now, and I think it’s better for me to be here now, anyway. How about you? Why are you juggling two jobs when you should be rescuing dogs full-time?”
“You do what you gotta do,” she replies with a grin. “And there’s not a lot of money in the dog rescuing business.”
I crack a smile, liking that she doesn’t inundate me with the details of her life. It’s refreshing. Anytime I meet women these days, I feel like they are trying the 30-second speed-dating tactic. I’ll be standing in the produce aisle and a long-locked stranger is suddenly telling me her decades of backstory and all her life goals. Which of course, isn’t really what I want to hear since I don’t know what my life goals are anymore. Just get through my plumbing inspection with the County so I can put up my drywall in #3, I guess.
Certainly not the goals I once had in my life.
When the doorbell rings, I go inside to get the food. It feels good to have a reason to pull my eyes from her. Looking at Allie is somehow calming and unsettling at the same time. And it confuses the shit out of me.
Hannah washes her hands before I even have to remind her. Apparently her mother did something right, because she sure didn’t pick that up from her dad. Plopping herself down in a seat at the table next to Allie, she fires off, “Do you believe in fairies?”
My gut clenches up. It’s a pretty innocent question, but Allie has no idea that there’s no right answer at this point. Say yes, and she’ll repeat it to the kids at school and get teased, and say no, and she’ll be heartbroken.
Allie looks thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen a fairy, so I don’t really know they exist. But I think it’s more fun to believe, than not to believe, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” Hannah nods sagely. “Do you want to try my egg roll?” she offers Allie.
I breathe a sigh of relief and sit on the other side of Hannah. “Wow. You never offer me any egg roll.”
“Silly. I know you don’t like egg rolls.”
She’s actually wrong. I love egg rolls. I could eat twenty of them at one sitting, but I’m having a hard enough time keeping myself in shape since separating from the Navy. I’ve got workout equipment in my basement, but my routine is a far cry from the seven days a week of PT I used to do. So I’m stuck eating my chicken and broccoli and pretending that crunchy vegetables don’t make my lip curl up.
God, I miss the Navy.
Allie’s cheeks are bursting with color as she eats her General Tso’s chicken. I asked for it extra hot, as she had requested. “Too hot for you?”
She finishes chewing and replies, “It’s never too hot for me.”
I can’t miss the double entendre, and despite the fact that my niece is two feet away, I’m wondering if I see a flicker of suggestion in Allie’s eyes.
Allie probably talks to Hannah more than she does to me during the meal, and I have to admit, I enjoy watching her do it. She shows enthusiasm for everything Hannah says, and doesn’t even bat an eyelash when the little girl changes topics two or three times in a long-winded sentence. Allie has loads of patience, and I imagine that’s why she’s so good with dogs.
“So, are you headed to the pound to pick up another dog tomorrow?” I ask as I stack up the plates from the table. Hannah has crashed on the couch next to the warm body of my new chocolate Lab mix, and I’m betting she’ll be covered in hair when her father picks her up in a few minutes.
I glance at Allie when a reply doesn’t come.
“I’m not sure,” she finally says. I know enough about her already to know that she doesn’t want to give me details. That seems to be her mantra. And normally, I’d respect it. But this time…
“Why wouldn’t you?” I dare to ask.
“I’m…” Her voice trails almost as if she is still in the process of making a decision about something. “I’m actually selling my condo.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” She gives a nod, though it seems more directed at herself than at me. “Yeah, I am. I talked to a real estate agent the other day and the value has really skyrocketed.”
That’s pretty unusual in this town, and I hope the agent wasn’t blowing sun up her skirt. “Property around here doesn’t normally appreciate very quickly,” I warn her.
“Well, my condo did because the commuter bus started picking up just a few blocks from me. According to my agent, the place will sell in a week. More people from Dayton and Cincinnati are coming to live here now that there’s an alternative to driving.”
Oh, well, that makes sense. “Are you buying something else?”
Her cheeks puff out as she expels a slow, ample breath. “I’m hoping to. I’m bidding on a foreclosure. I’m going to live on a friend’s couch till then,” she states with a laugh. “The only bad thing is, I can’t take on any more dogs until I see if I get this foreclosure or not. And that’s killing me. There are so many dogs there right now who are running out of time.”
“Any idea when you will hear back from the bank?” I ask, knowing the answer, but just making sure she knows it, too. I don’t want her real estate agent leading her on, especially when Allie will be sleeping on someone’s couch till she closes on something new.
“Could be days or months. You never know with foreclosures.” She shrugs. “I don’t mind. It will all be worth it if I get it.” Her eyes drift away from mine, and I can see she’s imagining it, whatever it is. “I could keep a lot more dogs in this new place than my condo. I’m so tired of going into the pound and feeling like I’m choosing who is going to live and who is going to die.”
Her words slice through me, flooding my senses with memories that I try to keep locked up deep inside.
Yeah, I know how she feels.
“Do you mind noise?” I hear myself asking her, even though I’m not really sure if the voice is coming from me.
She laughs. “I sure better not. The place I’ll be staying is a real party building, I’ve heard.”
“No, I mean construction noise.”
Shrugging, her eyebrows arch in question.
I press my lips together a moment. “I just about finished with one of the townhomes, but can’t sell it until all five of them are complete. It wouldn’t get the best price with all the noise and mess. But if you and the dogs don’t mind it, you’re welcome to it. It would just be sitting vacant, anyway. You couldn’t put any pictures up or anything, since I just painted it and I’d rather not do it over again. And if you could just try to keep the hardwoods in okay shape, you’re welcome to have a few dogs there.”
As soon as the words rush out of my mouth, I nearly regret them. I can already foresee having to refinish the floors before trying to sell the place in a few months. But the thought of her feeling like she’s depriving some dogs of their second chance at life kills me.
Besides, whether she knows it or not, there’s a good chance she won’t get her foreclosure. And I don’t want her thinking about the lives that were lost while she took a chance at it.
To my relief, she shakes her head. “Thanks. But I really can’t afford to pay rent right now. Even short term. I’ve sunk every dime I have into my offer.”
“No, no. I wouldn’t charge you to stay there. Like I said, the noise will be pretty bad and it will be empty, anyway.”
“Really?” She seems aghast.
“Really.” I stand when I hear a knock on the door. Kosmo lumbers off the couch and barks, waking Hannah.
Swinging open the door, I see my brother on the other side. His eyes immediately fall to Kosmo.
“Hey, boy!” he says, bending over him and giving him an enthusiastic head rub. Ryan glances up at me. “So, you got him?”
“He’s all mine now,” I answer, feeling a swell of pride. I know it’s ridiculous, but I’ve wanted a dog for so long. Being deployed as often as I was, it just wasn’t a good idea till now.
“Daddy!” Hannah cries out, her voice still sleepy. She races toward him and my brother is enclosed in her slender arms.
I don’t normally feel any jealousy toward my brother, not for the 6,000 square foot home he lives in by himself when Hannah’s not with him. Not for the hot tub or infinity edge pool he has in the backyard. Not for the souped-up man cave just off the foyer that has a TV I couldn’t even fit in my townhome.
But when Hannah embraces him with so much love it could fill a house and bust the doors open, I feel a pang of jealousy. He claims he wasted three years of his life with the wrong woman. But look at what he has to show for it.
“Hi. You must be Hannah’s dad.” Allie has come up from behind me and extends her hand to Ryan. She’s already holding her stack of paperwork in her other hand and her purse is slung over her shoulder.
Ryan flashes her a smile, and I bristle seeing his eyes give her an appraising glance up and down. “Ryan Sheridan.” He takes her hand. “Logan’s younger brother.” He stresses the word younger as if it is supposed to matter—like if she wanted the younger version of me, then she knows where to turn. It annoys the hell out of me.
“Allie Donovan.”
“Allie runs the rescue organization,” I tell him.
“Good for you. Thank you for saving this big guy.” Ryan stoops to pet Kosmo again, purely for her benefit, I’m sure.
“My pleasure.” She turns to me. “Well, I better be going. Will you let me know how your pre-op appointment goes at the vet next week?”
“I will,” I respond, grateful to have a reason to call her. I’m not sure why.
“And if you have any questions—”
“I’ll text you.”
She nods. “Good.” She bends over to pet Kosmo. “You be a good boy, Kosmo.” Her head is close to his and her voice cracks. This must be harder than hell on her.
Hannah embraces her around the waist. “Bye. Thanks for Kosmo.”
“Don’t forget my offer. And good luck on the bidding process,” I add.
“Thanks.” She touches my forearm lightly, almost as though she would have given me a hug if my brother wasn’t standing there.
Damn you, Ryan.
“See ya.” Her eyes linger on mine a beat or two, before she descends the short staircase and walks to her car.
“I’ll pack up my backpack,” Hannah says, charging back inside.
Ryan’s still watching Allie as she pulls away. “She’s cute. Single?”
I glare at him. “Yes.”
“Wow.”
“Wow what?”
“You know there’s only about a dozen single women in this town, right?”
“Yeah, but don’t get any ideas. She’s too young for you.”
“How old?”
“24.”
“On what planet is that too young for me to date? I was married at 24.”
“And see how that turned out?” I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously, she’s off limits, bro.”
“You’ve got a thing for her.”
“Maybe. She’s—” Sweet. Kind. Responsible. Cute. And a hell of a kisser. But I don’t say any of that. “Too young. Ryan, she’s fresh out of college. I remember what I was like at that age.”
“Not the jaded asshole you are now, right?”
I shrug. He’s not too far from the truth.
“All the more reason to date a younger woman. Who the hell needs someone who’s jaded? You’re 32. She’s 24. ‘Half plus seven’ is the rule, you know, and she falls within the range.”
My eyes shoot upward at that formula, which I’m certain was created by a bunch of desperate old men looking for a way to justify dating much younger women. “A guy like me doesn’t fall within the ramifications of that formula.” Or any formula, I’m tempted to add.
“Well, if you’re not going for her, then I will.”
I look inside my door to make sure Hannah isn’t within sight, and fist his shirt close to his neck. “Still think you will?” I ask, my eyes searing into him. It’s done in jest, the way my brothers and I always roughhouse. But there’s a trace of me that’s really thinking about punching him for wanting to date Allie.
As I release him, he backs off laughing. “Ha! I knew you had a thing for her.”
Hannah trots back onto the front porch with Kosmo jogging along behind her.
“Will you be at Grandma and Grandpa’s this Sunday?” she asks, grabbing my hands and proceeding to climb up me like a tree the way she has since the day she took her first steps.
“I will.”
She smacks a kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for saving Kosmo. I love him sooooo much.” She draws out the word “so” to last at least five seconds.
“And I love you sooooo much,” I say, drawing out the word twice as long as I give her a squeeze.