Chapter Nine
“I’d pronounce him cured of whatever ailed him,” Aidan said as they walked toward the creek a good twenty feet behind Ruff, who bounded with joy over the trail that cut through the heart of Waterford Farm.
“He’s sure better than he was a few hours ago,” Beck agreed, her gaze on the dog ahead of them. “It’s like he’s a different dog.”
“I know the feeling.” He blew out a breath and lifted his face to the late afternoon sun peeking through the branches of the hickory and oak trees that lined the trail. In fact, if she hadn’t been here, he might have bounded like Ruff, barked for joy, and thrown himself into the creek at the end of it all to celebrate his small success. He’d been thinking about going in to help her for a few days, but he didn’t want to seem so incredibly obvious.
This had happened so naturally, he couldn’t be accused of stalking Ruff or trying to finagle his way into the dog’s new life. It was perfect, really.
“Are you a different dog?” Beck asked after they walked for a few seconds in silence.
“Let’s just say I know how Ruff feels having been transported to somewhere strange and trying to adjust.” Although his talk with Darcy had left a mark and given him much to consider.
“Are you trying to guilt me into giving Ruff back?” she asked. “Because it won’t work. Or are you trying to tell me something about yourself?”
He slowed his step, looking down at her for the hundredth time that day, because he never actually got tired of doing that. “I’m not trying to guilt you into anything.”
“Then why do you suddenly want to be the pizza teacher and backup cook at Slice of Heaven?”
“Look, keeping it real? I do have ulterior motives, but if you think I’m trying to work out some kind of exchange of pizza techniques to get my dog back, you couldn’t be further from the truth. You have my word.”
Her look said exactly what she thought of his word, which stung, but he let it go.
“So, what are these ulterior motives if you’re not trying to take ‘your’ dog back?”
“Whoops. Force of habit, sorry.”
She tipped her head with silent forgiveness, but was still waiting for an answer. He took a few more steps, thinking about his motives and how much to share. Enough so that she believed he was genuine and Ruff wasn’t the only reason he’d suggested the arrangement.
“I’ve been trying to…don’t laugh now…find myself.”
She didn’t laugh, which he appreciated, but studied him for a moment. “I didn’t know you were lost.”
He shrugged. “I’m like Ruff. Having a hard time adjusting to this place.”
“Yeah, ’cause Waterford Farm is sheer hell. What with all the big happy family, adorable dogs, inside jokes, and a precious porch-wrapped farmhouse filled with love and laughter. Who’d want to be here?”
“That’s the outsider’s view,” he said.
“Because the outsider doesn’t see the world’s cutest grandmother who blogs and the three newlywed older brothers on the inside?” She gave him a gentle elbow in the ribs. “You live in a Norman Rockwell painting, big guy. Dogs included.”
He heard a whisper of pain in her voice, and it hit him somewhere deep. Somewhere relatable. “I know that,” he said. “You should also know that the person who made that family, who started fostering precious dogs, who encouraged those inside jokes, and who filled that yellow house with love and laughter is MIA in a big way.”
She was quiet for a long time, the only sounds Ruff’s occasional bark and their footsteps on the path.
“Do you mean because she’s passed away, or because they don’t, you know, have her portrait over the dining table?” she asked. “Because that might bring down the festive family mood your father obviously works very hard to maintain.”
He swallowed. “It’s like they prefer to act like she was never there.”
“Aidan.” She drew back and frowned at him. “They do not. I heard your mother’s name mentioned, but not in sorrow. They don’t wallow in grief. There’s a big difference between living your life with loss and wailing with helpless misery all the time. And don’t forget, you’re talking to a person who’s lost…all of them.”
Good God, he had forgotten. What a jerk. He put his arm on her back, adding pressure. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she assured him.
He waited a moment, guiding her to follow Ruff to the creek. “But I am out of sorts, Beck, and working with you at Slice appeals to me. So, if that’s the ‘ulterior’ motive you are looking for, there it is.”
She didn’t respond to that, looking around slowly at the picturesque creek, babbling over stones and rocks, bathed in a mix of sunshine and shadows, the edge of this forest thick with a hundred shades of green.
“And Norman Rockwell morphs into Thomas Kinkade,” she said softly.
He laughed at that. “Yeah, this is definitely one of my favorite places on the whole hundred acres.”
Ruff was halfway in the water when they reached him, soaked up to his belly and drinking from the cold spring.
“For good reason,” she whispered, still looking around in awe.
“I used to come here when I was a kid.” He led her to a large flat rock that was worn and warm and incredibly familiar to him. “Just me and my little Doxie.”
“Your dog was a dachshund?” she guessed.
“Yes, and I named her Doxie because I lacked originality.”
“Please, I named a dog Ruff.”
He laughed again. “True. Well, Doxie was a foster, but we kept her because my mother was the original Foster Failure. She’d keep the dogs, every time, and then we’d each get one of them sort of ‘assigned’ to us to be sure they were clean, fed, exercised, and such. I got Doxie, and she was with me for years.” He shook his head, remembering her pointed nose and tiny legs and how she’d sleep right on his pillow, curled into a circle, staring at him until he’d wake up. “And, you know, being the youngest brother has its challenges, so I’d bring her here.”
“Why?”
He gave in to a smile. “Because when I wanted to cry about something, Liam and Shane and Garrett gave me crap. They’d tell me to buck up and be a man. They’d say, ‘Kilcannon men don’t cry.’ And I’d have to swallow it all and man up. When life didn’t go my way, I brought Doxie down here and bawled like a baby where no one would see me.”
“Aww.” She pressed her hand to her chest as if the admission touched her heart. “I can’t imagine you crying, Aidan.”
He shrugged. “I did, some. Right here at my crying creek with my wiener dog.”
That made her laugh softly. “And you always had a family setter, right?” she asked, getting comfortable on the stone next to him. “Your grandmother told me she and her husband had one with them when they came from Ireland and that there’s always been a setter in the house.”
“I was in the shower, what? Ten minutes? And she got that story in?” He chuckled. “Gramma Finnie is a piece of work, man.”
“She is special.” She put her hand on his arm, her fingers as warm as the rock they settled on, facing the water. “They all are, Aidan.”
“I know.” He picked up a stone and tossed it toward the creek, waiting for the splash before he continued. “I’m not saying they’re not the greatest family, but…” He hesitated, rooting for the right words.
He didn’t have to dig too deep. After the conversation with Darcy and the long family dinner, all the feelings were right under the surface. “I’ve been gone for ten years, Beck. And after my mother died, they—all of them, without me—built this…this place. I don’t have any skin in this game.”
“You have a name in this game. And this place is really incredible.”
“But it’s not a home anymore.”
“You don’t live here, do you? Your grandmother said only she and your dad and Darcy still live there.”
“I’m renting a house Shane and Garrett bought and shared before they got married and moved in with their wives. But I’m working here, and I’ll be honest, I’m not loving it. Not yet.” He had a snowball’s chance of fitting in and finding a home here with Ruff. But now? His sister’s words came back to him.
You have to find your place here…
“I haven’t found how, or if, I belong here. I miss flying. I miss having a purpose. I miss”—my mother—“the way things used to be.”
“So you want to make pizza and figure it out?”
He glanced at her and smiled. “I want to help you make pizza and figure it out.”
She lifted her chin and looked at him, probably unaware that at that very moment, he could see the resemblance to her brother as strongly as ever. It was something in the color of her eyes. More than the color. The spark. In Charlie, it had been fun and warm and a precursor to something that would make Aidan crack up.
In her, it was pretty and feminine and a precursor to something that made him want to find out what it would feel like to kiss her. A lot. Often. And for a really long time.
“What’s the other one?” she asked.
Frowning, yanked from his fantasy, he shook his head. “Other what?”
“Ulterior motive. You said ‘motives,’ as if there’s more than one.”
“Isn’t that one enough? I just bared my soul.”
She shrugged as if unimpressed with his bare soul. “I want to know them all. Why would you offer to come to Slice of Heaven, teach me how to make pizza, and work there when we need help?” When he didn’t answer right away, she leaned her whole shoulder into him. “I knew it. I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“You think you can…” She looked away as she searched for the words, her gaze drifting to Ruff, who was still splashing around in the shallow water and having the time of his life. “Con me.”
“Con you?” He snorted. “What about me has said ‘con artist’ to you? Was it when I was fully honest about Ruff being home? When I brought him to you because you have a claim on a dog I believed was mine? When I helped you out of a lunch rush, or offered to watch him at any time, or was nice to your aunt, who’d rather I disappeared forever and acts like Ruff is about to eat her for lunch? Which one was the con?”
With each beat in his speech, he saw her expression change until she lost the hardness and distrust in the angle of her jaw. “I know, you’re right. But you don’t ever give up until you get what you want. I know that, and it’s daunting.”
He wanted to argue, but couldn’t lie. “Look, do I still want Ruff? Hell yeah. But if that happens, it would have to be organic and natural. No, I don’t give up easily, if ever, but I’m also not going to be a jerk about it. And whether you understand it or not, I want a break from this place. Right now, I need it.”
“You’re not going to infiltrate and try to make him love you more than me? Although,” she added with a dry laugh, “not sure how he could love me any less.”
“He misses me, and it’ll be good to transition him from me to you,” he told her. “It’s really better for him. For all of us. I promise I’ll help you win him over.”
She gave him a dubious look. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I loved your brother and want to respect his very specific wishes.”
“As I do,” she shot back. “And I have the—”
“Letter, I know.” He put his hands on her shoulders, momentarily surprised by the small but taut muscles he felt as he turned her to face him. “Listen to me, Rebecca Spencer.”
She blinked at the use of her full name, but didn’t look away.
“Can you fathom that I might actually want to help you? That I care about the family of my best friend and the pizza parlor he wanted to own and run, and that I do not want to see it sold, folded, or out of business? I also care about the well-being of his dog, no matter who he calls master or mistress.” He added some pressure to his touch, wanting so much for her to believe him, because this was the absolute truth. “I owe that to Charlie, too, you know,” he added. “I owe him genuine care for the dog he adored, the business he wanted to inherit, and the family he loved.”
She searched his face, her eyes moving back and forth, and he could see she was weighing her opinion of him and trying to decide if he was a risk worth taking.
“Okay,” she finally agreed. “So it’s a few pizza lessons to help me learn and working some shifts to start to build a customer base again. That’s all it is?”
“That’s all it is.” But he could still see the doubt lingering in her eyes, and he leaned closer. “What are you afraid I’ll do?” he asked softly.
Her lower lip slipped under her top teeth. “I’m not sure.”
The sudden increase in his heart rate surprised him, along with a low, slow heat in his belly and the need to get even closer to her. “I won’t hurt you.”
“It’s not you hurting me that scares me,” she said, her voice reedy as if her throat was suddenly as bone-dry as his.
“What scares you?”
She didn’t answer, taking a deep breath, letting her gaze drop from his eyes to his mouth, linger for a moment, then slide back up again. “I’m not afraid. I’m…” Her eyes shuttered for a second. “I feel things.”
He gave in to an easy smile, enjoying every second of this unexpected intimacy. “Things? What kind of things?”
“The kind of things that derail plans and complicate life and make even the strongest woman change her mind.”
“Oh.” The smile gave way to a chuckle. “Those kind of things. Yeah. I feel them. I’d have to be dead not to.” He leaned closer. “You’re beautiful, funny, and now you own my dog. But I’m pretty sure Charlie would send the hounds of hell after me if I made a move.”
She lifted one brow. “He’s not in hell, Aidan.”
“That’s for sure.” He added a squeeze to her shoulders. “But you don’t have to worry. I’m not after your heart.”
“Promise? Because it’s…closed for business.”
“Is that so?”
“Too much loss,” she explained. “I can’t risk any more. So, promise me you won’t…” She couldn’t finish, and all that made him do was inch closer to find out what he wasn’t supposed to do.
But she stayed silent, and he knew that, as much as he ached to close the space and kiss her, that would be her tipping point. One mistake, and he wouldn’t get his escape, or to be with Ruff, or get to know her even better.
And he wanted all those things more than he wanted to kiss her. Which was a lot. So he held her gaze and said the words he knew his best friend would hold him to in this life and beyond.
“You have my word, Beck.”