Chapter Eight
Liam climbed out of Rin Tin Tin, the Jeep used by Waterford Farm to deliver dogs to new homes, after parking in front of Andi’s narrow three-story home. He was early, but would use the time to get Jag acclimated to the neighborhood, maybe walk up and down the street and learn the smells, and wait for Andi to come home with Christian.
Following the world’s lamest proposal—and the pitiful “sure” he got in reply—Andi had spent a little more time with the family. There were some chaotic discussions with Molly taking the lead on the wedding plans, promising to keep it simple, fast, and authentic.
Liam couldn’t take that. He left and went out to work with Jag and do some paperwork in his office. He also made one quick call to Paul Batista, a detective friend at the Charlottesville, Virginia, police department, but had to leave a message.
When he came back to the house, Andi had disappeared into Dad’s office for a brief call with Shane’s family law attorney friend, who would be in town later in the week for the engagement party—which was now Liam’s wedding.
After making plans to meet with the attorney in person, Andi seemed to be a lot more optimistic and encouraged than when she’d arrived. She obviously didn’t love the idea of a fake marriage any more than he did, but Shane’s lawyer friend thought it was a stroke of genius.
Oh, there’d be no living with the Dogfather now.
With a promise that she’d meet Liam at home at two, she finally left. And Liam felt like he wanted to throw his body in a river of ice and not think about how he’d volunteered to throw himself down the Andi Rivers Slippery Slope to Misery instead.
This was not real, not on any level, not in any way. He could never forget that.
Heading down the street with Jag, he studied her house, a rich-looking brick structure that had some kind of cool architectural history, if he recalled a conversation they’d had on a date many moons ago. He didn’t remember the details, but always thought the house fit her so well. It was classic and balanced and flawless, but had unexpected curves and surprisingly sweet angles, and all he’d ever wanted to do was climb up those stairs, walk in that door, and never leave Andi’s side.
He’d known so fast that she was the woman he wanted, the one he’d waited his whole life to find. The first date, maybe the second. He didn’t know how, didn’t know why, didn’t know what to do about it, but in his gut, there was no doubt that she was the extraordinary woman he’d always believed he’d find.
Then she dumped him for a guy who hadn’t stayed with her when she was pregnant with his child. She made a decision to give Jeff Scott a second chance, but that hadn’t changed how bruised it left Liam. He’d tried to forget her. Tried not to compare every woman to Andi Rivers.
And he failed miserably.
He shook off the thoughts, forcing himself to look for potential security weaknesses, like shrubbery too close to a window or well-hidden side entrances that could be broken into even during the day.
The street off Bushrod Square was one of the oldest in town, with rows of iconic rust-colored homes built smack up next to each other, all dating back more than a century.
When Bitter Bark was founded by Thaddeus Ambrose Bushrod back in the 1800s, Liam recalled from his local elementary school education, shops had popped up around the square and all of the roads that led into that hub were developed into residential areas. The result, a hundred and fifty years later, was a lot of charming real estate on tree-lined streets leading right into the heart of a small town that was currently enjoying gentrification and a push to build tourism.
And that meant more than a few people strolling the area, putting Liam on a slightly elevated alert. He glanced at a man in running shorts with earbuds in who darted by him, probably on his way to the trails in the square. An older couple with a dachshund on a leash strolled slowly, looking around like they were the very dog-loving tourists his soon-to-be sister-in-law Chloe had been working so hard to attract. A young woman who looked like she probably attended the local college walked briskly while talking on the phone, a backpack hooked over one shoulder.
Any of these people could be working for Nora Scott, who paid someone to break into Andi’s house and steal Christian’s toothbrush to do a DNA test.
The very thought made him tense, tugging Jag’s leash a little. Immediately, the dog glanced in anticipation of a command, ready to obey.
“Good boy, Jag,” he muttered, happy that the distraction issue seemed to be waning. He turned at the next intersection and headed back to Andi’s house.
But would Jag be enough protection? Would he obey the commands of a woman and a child he barely knew in a moment of distress? With the right handover training, yes, but that could take hours, sometimes days, depending on the new owners’ comfort level and dog skill, and leave Liam worried that something could go wrong.
He wasn’t that confident of Jag’s ability to take on a new owner yet. He was close, almost there, but—
A woman pushing a baby stroller crossed the street, coming from the square, slowing down as she neared Andi’s house. He was five or six houses away and she wore sunglasses and a ball cap with a sandy blond ponytail spilling out the back. She was too far to make out her face, but not so far that he couldn’t sense her interest in the house.
He watched her come to a complete stop in front of Andi’s brownstone and take out a phone. To call, text…or take a picture?
Was that Nora in a wig? An accomplice? Or simply a tourist who liked the looks of the local architecture and wanted a picture? But would a tourist be pushing an old-fashioned pram? Liam was no baby expert, but he was observant and he spent a ton of time in the square with dogs he was socializing. Baby strollers didn’t really look like that anymore, did they?
Picking up his pace and notifying Jag he was on duty with a single flick of the leash, Liam walked briskly toward the woman. Yes, she appeared to be texting with two thumbs, but her attention seemed to be more on the house than the phone. And she had the same narrow build as the jogger, but he couldn’t be sure.
When he was still fifty or so feet away, she turned and saw him, reacted to Jag with a quick blink, then tucked the phone back into her bag and turned the stroller to go in the direction she’d come from, away from him. Scared of Jag? Or did she know she shouldn’t be there, taking pictures? In a matter of seconds, he’d almost reached her, seeing her glance over her shoulder and pick up her pace even more.
Should he stop her? Ask why she was taking pictures of Andi’s house?
No, that would alert her of his suspicions. Instead, he kept his pace but got as close as he could while she waited to cross Bushrod Avenue, then, giving up on a break in traffic, she made a sharp turn and continued down the street without crossing.
As she did, Liam got a look inside the stroller. He didn’t see a baby, but she could have had a newborn covered in blankets.
His chest tightened, and he resisted the urge to run after her and demand to know why she was taking pictures and walking an empty stroller. But he knew making a scene wouldn’t change anything. She’d lie, anyway. Better she didn’t know he was on to her.
He walked back to Andi’s house and sat on the top stair with Jag to wait for her and Christian, thinking of how she’d take the news that she was no longer sleeping alone in this house.
Probably not well. Too bad. He wasn’t going to leave her for one minute until Nora Scott was no longer a threat.
* * *
Sometimes, Andi thought that words were actually pent up inside Christian, deliberately withheld around anyone who wasn’t her. Then, when they were alone, the words came spilling out so rushed and impassioned that she could hardly keep track.
That was the case on the drive home from Jackson Elementary on the afternoon of his first day at school.
“Ms. Rossetti said we would have homework every night starting next week and there is a reading corner with books for us, but Mommy, I already know how to read the baby books. Plus, we get to go to the library every Tuesday afternoon, and there’s going to be a fire drill soon, and maybe a real fireman will come, and did you know I get to take a science class?”
She glanced into the rearview mirror to where he sat buckled into a booster seat. She wanted to be sure this was an actual break in the stream, still not at all certain how to tell him that life was about to change pretty drastically.
So she stuck with typical first-day-of-school questions. She wished that was all they had to talk about today—normal things, easy things. “Did you make any friends, Christian?”
“I like Ms. Rossetti. She’s really nice.”
“But no kids?”
He lifted a shoulder and turned to look out the window. “Nobody takes naps in first grade.” He sounded a little disappointed in that.
“Well, you’re a big boy now. Use that time to play with new friends.”
“Can we go to the square today? After the hardware store?”
Frowning, she looked in the rearview mirror. “The hardware store?”
“For that nail to fix the pirate ship.”
She laughed. “You really want to do that yourself? I could also call Mayor Wilkins’s office and report it.”
“I can fix it, Mommy. I just need a nail.”
“And a hammer and strength, but…” She grinned at him. “I like your pluck, young man. Good to solve your own problems in life.” She turned onto Bushrod Avenue, peering toward the edge of her brownstone, now visible. “No hammer and nails today, though, because I have a surprise for you.”
His eyes widened, and his hand fell to his lap. “Did you get the new Star Wars Death Star Lego set, Mommy?”
She laughed, a wistful ache for yesterday when his world was that simple. “Nooo….” Drawing out the word, she drove closer and spied a bright yellow Jeep that anyone who lived in this town recognized.
Forget the fact that Christian’s mother was getting married to a virtual stranger in five days. He was about to find out that a dog was moving in with them. A big, tough, protective, hard-to-handle, speaks-a-different-language dog.
And Jag.
“What’s that?” Christian asked as she turned onto their street and he saw the Jeep.
“That’s Rin Tin Tin. At least, I think that’s what they call the Jeep.”
He sat up, scowling, and then Liam stepped out in front of the Jeep with Jag on a leash.
“Jag! Jag is back!” If Christian could have ripped the seat belt off himself, he would have, the sound of his excitement like a kick of joy to Andi. This whole situation was tenuous and scary, but Jag would make Christian so happy. There was that. “Mommy! Mommy! Jag is here!”
“And he’s staying,” she announced, pulling into her small reserved parking spot. Climbing out, she waved to Liam, who gave her a slow, sexy smile.
No. Not sexy. Don’t think like that, Andi.
A friendly smile. A platonic smile. A dog trainer’s smile. A fake husband’s smile.
She might not have to remind him, but she sure might have to remind herself frequently.
“He’s about to explode,” she called as she opened the back door. When she did, she met her son’s beaming Christmas-morning kind of joyous expression.
“We’re keeping him?” he asked, doubt in his voice, because it really was a little too good to be true.
And the first question was about permanence, of course. She hadn’t even thought about the aftermath of getting—and losing—a dog.
One problem at a time, Andi.
“For a little bit, at least,” she said, hoping that was vague enough. “Mr. Liam thinks it would be a good idea for us to help with Jag’s special training by having him living in our house for a while.”
He didn’t care about the rationale, she guessed, by the way he started kicking his legs like the excitement couldn’t be contained, practically pushing her aside as she unlatched the childproof seat belt.
“Jag!” He ran to the dog, and immediately, Jag barked and tried to take off to meet Christian. Liam gave an order, which the dog ignored, but not the next command, which was delivered in German with biting authority.
Jag instantly sat on his haunches and braced for the onslaught of little-boy love.
Liam stayed close, still holding the leash, but his gaze was on Andi as she came over.
“I think he likes this idea,” she said softly.
“So does Jag.”
“Yes, he does,” she said on a laugh. “I think he would have plowed Christian down if you hadn’t held him back.”
Liam made a face as if he wasn’t happy about that. “I have some dog food and supplies in the back of the Jeep. But let’s take him inside and get him acclimated while I do a site check, and then we’ll start the handover process. There’s quite a bit for both of you to learn. And…we have to talk.”
The low and serious tone in his voice snagged her attention away from Christian, making her frown at him. “Is anything wrong? Did you change your mind? A problem?”
“Of course I didn’t change my mind.” He ushered her toward the house, as if he wanted them all off the street, but she noticed he hadn’t answered the other two questions.
“Let’s start this transition so Jag will at least take cursory commands from you,” he said instead. “I’ll want to teach Christian a little more slowly.”
“All right. And, you know, I didn’t really prepare anything. I don’t have a dog bed, no toys.”
“Jag doesn’t need a bed,” he assured her, glancing both ways down the street as he added some pressure on her shoulder. “He’ll find a place to rest, but at night, his job is to patrol this house and make sure you’re safe. He’ll know that instinctively. Let’s go inside.”
Sensing an undercurrent of urgency in the request, she corralled Christian, and Liam gestured for the dog to go up the three steps to her door.
“Christian.” Liam held out the leash. “You can walk him in, but here’s what you do.”
He crouched down to deliver the instructions. “When the door is open, you tell him to heel, or stay right next to you. Do you remember that command from yesterday?”
“Fuss,” he said softly.
Liam nodded. “Good. Now you always want him to go in before you, but not until you give him the command to do that. So after he stops next to you, wait a second, then say, vorwӓrts. Remember that one?”
“It sounds like forward with a z,” Christian said, taking the situation with such seriousness that Andi’s heart cracked with love.
“Yes, exactly. It means he can keep walking.”
“Okay, I can do that.” He glanced up at Andi, his little face so solemn. “I can do that, Mommy.”
“I’m sure you can. Let me unlock the door for you.”
“Once we’re inside, we’ll walk through the whole house together,” Liam added. “We want Jag to know every inch of the place. Sound good?”
Christian looked up at him. “Will you teach me the secret password now, Mr. Liam?”
“Not yet. But you can drop the Mr., if that’s okay with your mom. It’s too formal for your, um, dog trainer.” He glanced at her with a touch of deer-in-headlights as he probably realized everything he said now could be questioned later when they told Christian about this weekend’s wedding.
“That’s fine,” Andi said as she got her keys out. “Liam is my friend, too, Christian. A really…good friend.”
He couldn’t have cared less, with all his little six-year-old boy attention locked on Jag, who was giving it right back.
Once Christian flawlessly executed his first lesson, they were all inside. Liam instantly looked around with a sharp gaze that told her he wasn’t assessing décor. He’d been here before, of course, years ago, but only in the first-floor living area. She had no recollection of him going up to the second floor, where Christian’s room and Andi’s office were located, and he’d certainly never made it to the top floor, which was dedicated entirely to her master suite.
But she looked around, seeing the house through his eyes. A comfortable home, with muted shades and soft sofas, and…her gaze fell on an eight-by-ten framed picture of Christian and Jeff. It was one of several around the house, kept as part of her effort to be sure her son didn’t completely forget his father.
And maybe those pictures were a reminder to Andi, too. Life wasn’t certain.
“Do you want to start by walking Jag around down here?” she asked. “I can—”
“I’ll do the tour, Mommy,” Christian announced.
She blinked at him, the statement so unexpected, she was momentarily stunned. “Okay.”
“Come with me, Jag! Vorwӓrts!”
“I better come, too,” Liam said. “I want to be certain he listens to both of us.”
“Or you can just tell me the password,” Christian said brightly. “Then me and Jag will have a secret language!”
Andi let out a soft breath of disbelief as Christian raced up the stairs with the dog at his feet.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Liam said, obviously misreading her surprise as exasperation. “I’ll go with them.” Liam followed Christian and, after a moment, Andi started to go, too.
It was out of habit, of course, knowing she’d have to speak for her quiet son and lead the tour. But she stopped herself before she climbed the first step, hearing Christian tell Jag how nice his room was and ask Liam if Jag ate Legos.
No, he had this. And the last thing she wanted to do was squelch Christian’s enthusiasm and chatter.
“I’ll get your cookies and milk,” Andi called. “Chocolate chip today.”
“Can Jag have one?”
“No,” Liam answered instantly. “No chocolate, ever. No table food. I brought him food. Christian, let me show you…”
His words faded as the two of them entered his room and Jag barked a few times. Andi stood stone-still at the bottom of the steps, her whole being still humming from the day, the changes in her life, the troubles in her world, and the unknowns she faced.
She liked things clear and defined and, like the architect she was, had created a blueprint for her life that had both form and function. With Christian as her plumb line, she had sketched out an existence that might be a tad lonely for a thirty-five-year-old woman, but was certainly satisfying in every other regard.
And suddenly that house was shaken to its very foundation, with walls crumbling and the whole structure threatened.
Which was always what happened to her life. Draw your plans and watch them get torn apart by some unexpected storm of change. Pregnancy. Jeff. Death. Now this.
The uncertainty of life rocked her, scared her, and made her long for something that would be dependable. Like Liam.
No, no, no. Like Christian. Her child was dependable. Liam was…doing a favor.
Heading into the kitchen, she set out a plate of cookies and a glass of milk, listening to the unusual sound of Christian’s nonstop talking, followed by Jag’s occasional bark, and then Liam’s baritone in short, calm sentences of instruction.
For a moment, she leaned on the counter, closed her eyes, and let this new normal roll over her. A dog, a man, a happy child. A moment of domestic bliss.
All obtained under false pretenses, like building a house on shifting sand.
A single bark from a few feet away shook her out of her reverie as Jag led the way into the kitchen.
“Jag!” Liam called. “Setzen!”
“Setzen!” Christian echoed.
Jag sat, almost immediately, at strict attention, but it was obvious the smells of the kitchen and the floor intrigued him.
“Is he never allowed to just be a dog?” Andi asked.
Liam exhaled softly. “Not until he knows that this is his workplace. If we relax and let him dog-out for an hour, we risk him thinking of this as a resting place.”
“Dog-out.” Christian repeated the phrase with a grin that showed the gap from the tooth he’d lost a few weeks ago. “Is that the secret code word, Liam?”
Liam laughed. “No. But all you need to know is how to keep him at attention. Go ahead, do it.”
Christian nodded, standing in front of the dog. “Jag, achtung.” The German word rolled off his lips, and Jag obeyed by looking right at Christian the way he looked at Liam.
“Why are they trained in German?” Andi asked.
“Schutzhund training started in Germany, with German shepherds. It’s always done in German, which is handy since the vast majority of bad guys don’t know it. Some people train these dogs to compete and always use the German commands. I only train them to protect, but stick with the proper language. Christian, by the way, is a very fast study.”
Andi beamed at the compliment. “He is bright,” she agreed.
Liam notched his head toward the back door that led to a small patio. “This is completely enclosed, right?”
“Yes. Do you want to see?” Andi twisted the dead bolt lock so he could go out to the grass and small patio, which wasn’t more than forty square feet, but had a vine-covered wall and shrubs to offer complete privacy from Bushrod Avenue that ran along that side of the house. “The wall is high for security, and there’s a little grass that Jag can use for a bathroom.”
“Good, but step out there with me now.” He angled his head for her to go first. “Alone.”
She glanced at Christian, who was at the table gobbling cookies. “I’m sorry you can’t eat chocolate, Jag,” he said with a mouthful. “But I can’t eat dog food, so we’re even!”
“They’re okay alone together?” she asked Liam.
He nodded. “They’re going to be just fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
Her? “Christian, stay here with Jag. I’m going to show Liam the patio and grass.”
“Where Jag will poop?”
She closed her eyes. “You’re eating.”
“But Jag will have to go potty, Mommy. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t,” she said on a smile, stepping outside, a little unnerved by Liam’s serious expression. Whatever he wanted to tell her, he wasn’t happy about it.
He closed the door firmly behind them, leaving the two of them alone on the stone patio that was only big enough for a chair, a chaise, and a small table, but fine for her to sip a glass of wine late at night after Christian had gone to bed.
Despite the afternoon sun and flowering bushes that surrounded the area, the space felt very small as Liam joined her.
“I saw a woman outside and didn’t like the looks of her.”
She drew back. “Was it Nora?”
“I don’t know. It could have been, but she was wearing a cap and had blond hair, which might have been a wig and she was pushing a baby stroller that sure looked empty, but I couldn’t be positive.”
“Oh.”
When Andi’s shoulders relaxed a little, Liam added, “And appeared to be taking pictures of your house.”
“Oh my God.” She put her hand over her mouth. “I’m so glad we have Jag.”
“As of tonight, you’ll have me, too. I’m staying here. I’m sorry, but I have to.”
She started to respond, opening her mouth, but nothing came out as she tried to process about ten different reactions to this announcement. Where would he sleep? What would Christian think? And, of course, why was he so damn sorry?
“I think that’s a good idea, but all I have is a pullout in my office. You won’t be comfortable.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said.
“And I guess it’ll help, you know, cement the impression that we’re getting married.”
Jag barked a few times, and Christian’s giggle could be heard through the closed door. “We’re going to have to tell him,” Liam said.
“We?”
“You don’t want to do it alone, do you?”
She puffed out a breath. “I don’t want to do it at all.”
He flinched a little. “Yeah, I know. Why don’t we spend some time training Jag? We’ll go across the street to the square and let Christian get more comfortable with him. And with me. We can tell him later.”
“I promised him we’d order pizza for our first school night.”
He studied her for a second, the hint of a smile curling his lips.
“What? You expect that I cook every night? That’s probably in Nora’s formal complaint, too. Not enough home-cooked meals made from scratch.”
“That’s not why I’m smiling.”
“Then why?” she asked.
“Pizza on the first day of school? That’s kind of an epic mom move.”
The unexpected compliment warmed her. “I better be epic, or I’ll lose him.”
“Not going to happen, Andi.” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and guided her back inside, opening the door to another peal of laughter. “And as long as Jag’s around, I don’t think Christian cares who’s staying here.”
But she did. She cared a lot. Too much, maybe.