Chapter Two
Present Day
“Is this something I can install myself?”
The clerk took the keypad electronic dead bolt and turned it over, reading the package as if Andi hadn’t already done that three times. “With some tools. You got a spade bit to drill a hole in the side of your door?”
She was an architect, not a contractor. She had pencils and drafting triangles, even a toolbox? What she needed was the phone number of a handyman.
Next to her, Christian dragged his finger along of row of unmade keys, making them all jingle. And two keys clanged to the linoleum floor of Bitter Bark Hardware. Well, Better Bark Hardware, now that the town had voted to change its name for one year.
Already, the effects of the tourism campaign could be felt. A few businesses had hired Andi’s architectural firm to draw up plans for updates or new locations. And, thanks to the genius idea of Andi’s good friend Chloe Somerset, there were more and more dogs showing up—with their owners—as the tourism committee and business owners worked together to make “Better Bark” famous as the most dog-friendly town in the country.
But more people in Bitter Bark meant more crime, too. Which was what brought this single mom to a hardware store instead of a toy store on a Saturday afternoon.
“I can figure out how to install it,” she said as she bent down to scoop up the keys and put a hand on her son’s shoulder to draw him closer.
“’Cause we sell the bits,” the clerk said. “Right in aisle six.”
“Or you can get one of my sons to come over and install that lock.”
Andi turned at the sound of a man’s voice behind her, her eyes widening at the sight of a tall, handsome, older man with a regal-looking Irish setter on a leash. “Hello, Dr. Kilcannon,” she said, greeting him with a smile. “I haven’t seen you for a while.”
“Since that last Tourism Advisory Committee meeting before Shane took my place.” He gave her a friendly hug.
“And I understand congrats are in order with Shane and Chloe’s engagement,” Andi said. “Guess it worked out very well that you gave him your place on the committee.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve heard that rumor that I’m trying to pull strings and get my kids married off.”
She laughed. “I’ve become good friends with Chloe. Something tells me it’s not a rumor.”
He leaned a little closer. “Truth is, I was trying to get Liam to take my place, not Shane.”
She felt a little heat crawl up her chest at the mention of his oldest son. She hadn’t seen him since the night she’d humiliated herself in Bushrod Square two months ago. But Christian curled his hand around her legs, half hiding, half fascinated by the dog Dr. K had with him, and that saved her from answering.
“Oh, hello, big guy.” Dr. K grinned at him. “Would you like to pet Rusty? He’s real friendly.”
Instantly, Christian’s cheeks turned pink, and he inched closer to Andi.
“You can say hi, honey. Dr. Kilcannon is a friend. I’m sure his dog is sweet.”
Christian nodded and hid again. Andi opened her mouth to say her usual he’s shy excuse, but stopped herself. It wasn’t helping Christian to point out his social challenges in public. And she shouldn’t answer for him anymore, either. First grade started in two days, and she wasn’t going to be with him every minute to help navigate the waters.
“I had a kid like that,” Dr. K said, giving Rusty’s leash an infinitesimal tug to encourage interaction between his dog and her boy.
“You had a kid like everything,” Andi teased, knowing that with six children, there probably wasn’t a type Daniel and Annie Kilcannon hadn’t raised. And they’d all turned out great. Some even greater than others.
“I think Rusty would love if you’d pet him,” Dr. K said in a soft, encouraging voice to Christian.
She felt little hands grip her hips.
“Do you have a dog?” Dr. K asked.
“Oh, no. I work all day,” she said quickly, knowing this kind veterinarian loved nothing more than making sure every dog in the world had a home.
“Do you want the drill bit or not?” The man behind the counter did a fairly poor job of masking his impatience.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. No, I have a drill. I’ll figure something out. I’ll just take that lock.”
Finally, Christian slipped out and came one step closer to the dog, who lifted his russet-colored head for love.
“Go ahead,” Dr. K said gently while Andi got her wallet out to pay for the lock.
“He’s soft,” Christian whispered as he touched the dog’s head.
Andi looked over her shoulder, smiling at the look of rapture on Christian’s face. Dr. K glanced at her, then the lock that the clerk was putting in a bag for her.
“That’s a serious dead bolt,” he noted.
She nodded and checked Christian, who was deeply involved with the dog now, giggling as Rusty offered a paw.
“I think I need it,” Andi whispered.
Dr. K looked surprised and worried. “Something wrong, Andi?”
She glanced at Christian again, making sure he wouldn’t hear. “My house was broken into,” she said quietly, tapping the credit card pad and taking the bag.
“Really?” His brows, so much darker than his salt-and-pepper hair, furrowed. “That’s unusual in Bitter Bark.”
“I know.” She glanced again at Christian, still a few feet away, now on his knees with Rusty. “But I live right off the square, and there are a lot more tourists in that area, which is the whole idea of that committee, right?”
“Tourists aren’t thieves.”
“They didn’t steal anything.” Except her sense of security.
He drew back. “Are you sure? Have you reported this?”
“I did, and I replaced the door lock but want to add this for extra security. And, yes, the Bitter Bark police came and wrote it up.”
“Any leads?”
She shook her head. “No and since nothing was stolen, it probably isn’t a high priority. But the door was ajar when I got home, so I know someone was in there. But they didn’t take jewelry or electronics.”
“You sure they weren’t still in the house when you arrived?”
She shuddered as she remembered how scared she’d been walking in that day and searching the house, trying to stay nonchalant so Christian wouldn’t freak out. “Something must have spooked them and they left before I got home.” She threw a smile at Christian. “And someone conveniently lost his toothbrush, but I think he was just taking advantage of the situation.”
“He knows it happened?”
“He knows I was trying to find out if anything was missing, but I didn’t tell him we’d had a break-in.”
Dr. Kilcannon’s deep-blue gaze grew dark and serious. “You need a dog, young lady. Something protective.”
“I can’t take care of a dog, and I don’t think it’s fair to leave one alone all day. This will do the trick.” She held her bag up. “If I can tackle that drill bit.”
He gave her a look she couldn’t quite interpret, but there was caring in his expression. And some wheels spinning. He didn’t say anything, though, then shifted his gaze behind her to Christian.
“You should come to Waterford and see our puppies, young man,” he said. “Would you like that?”
Christian’s baby blues widened, and he stood, immediately coming back to Andi to press against her.
She gave an apologetic smile. “He’s shy,” she whispered.
“Did pretty well with my dog, though,” he noted.
“Yes, thank you for letting him play with Rusty.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, nodding. “Really nice to see you, Andi. Holler if you have a problem with the drill. I have plenty of sons who could help you.”
One in particular. Did he think she couldn’t see that wheel turning? “Thanks, Dr. K. I can manage.”
After buying the lock, Andi headed home, listening to Christian chatter endlessly about Rusty and thinking, as she so often did, about Liam Kilcannon. Which she suspected was exactly what the Dogfather wanted her to be doing.
* * *
Liam wiped the sweat from his brow with the bottom of his filthy T-shirt, grabbing a cold bottle of water on his way into the kennels. His brother Garrett was right behind him, still making a point that Liam wanted to ignore.
“He’s ready, and we have an offer for ten thousand dollars, Liam.”
“He’s not ready,” Liam argued. “He needs more time with me.”
“It’s a good and fair price for that dog.”
If you could put a price on Jag, which Liam was starting to think he couldn’t. He hustled around the corner toward Jag’s kennel.
“You’ve been working with him for months, Liam,” Garrett said, catching up. “We’ve got four more puppies lined up, ready to come here for training. It’s time for Jag to move on.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Liam said, gulping the water and nearly finishing the bottle. “He is not ready.”
“Not for an elite police department,” Garrett agreed. “And he’ll never work in the military. But this owner is top notch and made of money. He wants a highly trained German shepherd now. He’s willing to fly you down to Miami for the handoff, or come up here in a private plane. We need to take this offer.”
“Jag will hate Miami.” He tossed the bottle into the recycling bin.
“He has an aversion to paradise?” Shane popped out from around the next corner, a few leashes strung over his arm. “This dude lives on Star Island, Liam.”
Just what Liam needed—two of his brothers breathing down his back to persuade him to part with Jag. “I don’t care if he lives on Fantasy Island, Jag’s not ready to leave me yet.”
“Not supposed to get that attached,” Garrett said in a warning voice.
Liam whipped around. “Protection-dog training is my business, little brother.” Maybe a little more emphasis on little than was necessary, but Liam hated this conversation. It was the second time they’d had a potential buyer for Jag and the second time Liam fought the sale. “I’m taking him home.”
“He lives here,” Shane said.
Liam swore under his breath. “He works all night. It’s his job to stay awake and prowl. He can’t do that in the kennels. When he stays here overnight, he’s miserable the next day.”
“Kinda like his handler.”
Liam didn’t dignify Shane’s needling with a response.
As soon as he reached Jag’s kennel, the big guy immediately responded, jumping up and letting his oversized tongue hang out, something he did only for Liam. His pointed ears popped up with interest and intent, and his bushy black tail swished with happiness. And, of course, he barked at Garrett and Shane, rather than holding Liam’s gaze as he was supposed to.
Which was why he wasn’t ready.
Garrett leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “It would be a pretty lousy investment if you kept him.”
“Again, Garrett. I know the high-protection canine business. I started it, remember? My idea, my skills. And my dogs to decide if and when they’re ready.”
“Don’t push him,” Shane said. “He’s been in a bad mood for months.”
“He’s been in a bad mood for forty years,” Garrett muttered.
Liam blew out a breath, shaking his head, so sick of these two. They were worse than ever now that they went home to their brides-to-be and Liam went home to…nothing.
“Jag. Hier.” The dog obeyed the command to come to Liam, one that only the Schutzhund-trained dogs would know, then waited for the next. “Aus,” Liam said with the biting precision that made the German commands so effective.
Instantly, Jag stepped out of the kennel, and Liam rewarded him with a good scratch on the head.
“You know what you need, Brother?” Shane asked, clamping a hand on Liam’s shoulder.
“A shower and a beer.”
“A shower and a babe. Preferably at the same time.”
Liam rolled his eyes, and even Garrett snorted at Shane’s ridiculousness.
“You know I’m right,” Shane said.
Yeah, he was. Which pissed Liam off even more.
“We want you to be as settled as we are,” Shane continued, since knowing when to shut up had never been his strong suit.
“Quit telling me to get rid of this dog.” Liam snapped his fingers at Jag. “Vorwӓrts!” The dog marched “forward” on the command, past his brothers, and out to the late afternoon sunshine—and damn near slammed directly into his father.
Who would side with them, of course.
“Liam, so glad you’re still here.” He beamed down at Jag, putting his hand on the dog’s big head. “And Jag. So glad you’re still here.”
He was? Probably because he had another offer, and this one for more money.
Shane and Garrett came out from the kennels behind him, and he braced for a full-out war.
“I’ve found the perfect solution for the problem of Jag,” Dad said.
The problem of Jag? Liam looked down at his dog—yes, his—and saw his ears rise at the mention of his name.
“Don’t bother, Dad.” Garrett came up next to him. “Liam’s not parting with Jag.”
“Not even for ten grand,” Shane said, a little disgusted.
“He needs more training,” Liam said, tired of explaining the same thing to them. “He’s easily distracted and wouldn’t take commands from a new owner with enough ease.”
“But he’s protection ready,” Shane argued. “I’ve been out there in that training field with you for at least forty hours with that dog, and I know he’s ready. He’d bite a baddie in two seconds flat. Won’t kill, but he’ll stop an intruder in his tracks.”
He’d bite, yeah. Assuming the baddie didn’t throw a brightly colored chew toy in the opposite direction. He needed a little more time.
“We’d never ask you to give a dog to the wrong family,” Garrett assured him.
Dad held his hand up, probably not aware that the Dogfather had “trained” his own sons to stop bickering with just that one hand. And they did, instantly.
Liam shot him a grateful look for stopping the conversation. “Listen, it’s been a long day, and I need a shower and a beer.” He threw the last word at Shane and started walking past all of them. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon for Sunday dinner.”
It had been a long Saturday, with ten sheriff’s trainers and dogs that Liam had worked with since eight this morning. He had no time or energy for—
“Andi Rivers needs that dog.”
Dad’s words stopped him cold. He didn’t turn around, because he wasn’t sure what his expression would show, but whatever it was, Shane would interpret it. And Liam would never hear the end of it.
“Someone broke into her house.”
He pivoted, his brother’s teasing forgotten. “What?”
“I talked to her today at the hardware store, where she was buying a new dead bolt.”
Liam stared at his father, while the possibility that Andi, and Christian, could be in danger slithered through his veins and made them icy cold.
“She needs a dog,” Dad said. “We can find her one, or…let her have Jag.”
“Is she okay?” Liam asked.
“Yes, she’s fine, and she played down the incident,” Dad said. “But all the way home, all I could think of was how much she needs a dog, a protection-trained dog.”
Shane stepped forward. “I doubt she’d pay ten grand for a highly trained German shepherd, but we could—”
“She could have Jag.” The statement was out before Liam even thought about it, because…Andi and Jag. Yeah, there was a match made in Liam’s own personal heaven.
“Give him to her?” Garrett said with a soft choke. “After all the time you’ve invested in Jag? He’s a major asset.”
“Shane just said he’s protection ready, and he’d stop an intruder. Andi would need some training…”
“Which wouldn’t suck for you,” Shane said under his breath.
Liam ignored him. “If she needs a protection dog, Jag is perfect.”
Garrett shot a look to Shane. “Now he’s ready to part with him.”
“’Cause Dad brought kryptonite,” Shane joked.
Liam didn’t bother to argue with that.
“Why don’t you take Jag to her and see how it goes?” Dad suggested.
Because last time…didn’t go so well.
Behind his father, he could see Garrett fight a smile and Shane do the same. If Liam were the smiling type, he’d probably be doing battle with a grin himself.
“You’re not even trying to hide it anymore, are you, Dad?” Shane asked on a chuckle.
“Hide what?” Dad said defensively. “That a member of our community might be in danger and we have the perfect dog to protect her?”
“Never argue with the Dogfather,” Shane said.
“Yeah,” Garrett agreed. “Look how it worked out for us.”
Engaged, both of them.
Liam cleared his throat. “If that’s your end game, Dad, you can give it up right now. She’s not interested, and I’m not going begging like some kind of lovesick hound.” He narrowed his gaze at Shane, fending off whatever ill-advised joke he was ready to lob. “Not a word out of you.”
“I didn’t say a thing.”
Then Liam turned his attention to Dad. “She can have Jag, and I’ll personally cover the investment Waterford made in him. Or I’ll find her another dog if she wants one. But that’s it. That’s all that’s going to happen between Andi and me.”
Dad tried to look serious, but the twinkle in his eye was impossible to hide and, like everything else in the past few months—hell, few years—it pissed Liam off.
“Why don’t you invite her for Sunday dinner tomorrow?” Dad said, like Liam hadn’t just made a freaking speech. “She can bring her little boy, and they can play with Jag.”
And his whole family could observe firsthand that Andrea Rivers wanted no part of him except when she’d had some wine and felt lonely. No, thanks. He could humiliate himself without an audience.
“I’ll handle it,” he said.
He grabbed Jag’s collar, got the dog’s attention off a butterfly, and headed to the air-conditioned comfort of a big-ass 4x4 that would take him home to that shower and a beer. And a few hours to think about how to help someone he cared about without falling down that particularly painful slippery slope again.