Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
WREN
I park behind Barrett and tumble out of my SUV, running for the front door just a few steps behind him. I’m so close, that when he comes to a sudden stop in the middle of his combination living room and kitchen—a gorgeous space I’ve adored since the Christmas party a few years ago—I slam into his back with an oof .
He reaches back, touching a gentle hand to my waist as he asks, “Are you okay?” but he doesn’t turn around.
“I’m fine,” I say, ignoring the way my skin catches fire from that simple caress and the bliss of being this close to Barrett again. Even after a long day at work, he smells like fresh sea breeze and spicy soap. I’d love nothing more than to stick my nose between his shoulder blades and sniff him for a while.
Instead, I scoot around his side to take in what has him so transfixed.
Instantly, my heart leaps into my throat. “No, Keanu! You’re going to burn yourself!” I start toward the dog, whose tiny feet are mere centimeters from the glowing electric burner as he laps at the no-doubt scalding hot pan with his tongue.
“No, don’t!” Nora says, pointing the spatula in her hand my way. “He doesn’t like it when you get between him and food. I tried to turn the burner off three times. This is what he did to my shirt.” She lifts her other arm, revealing the shredded sleeve of her gauzy pink shirt. “I think he’s rabid.”
“He’s not rabid. Just poorly behaved and in need of firm boundaries,” Barrett says, sounding logical for a man who has very little experience with dogs. He grips my elbow lightly as he moves around me. “Stay here, I’ll get him. Best if he bites me. I’m the one who made the decision to bring a new dog home when I had work the next day.”
“It’s not your fault, it’s mine,” Nora says, her eyes beginning to shine as Barrett slowly makes his way toward the grunting and slobbering Keanu. “I shouldn’t have cooked anything at your house. But Gram hates the smell of eggs. She says they remind her of when she was younger, before she was allergic to eggs and gluten and soy and life, when being human was fun and she never even thought about having to wear a diaper if she made a bad baked good choice at the coffee shop.” She sucks in a breath. “But I’m so glad you’re here. I thought I was going to die and leave Gram alone and she’d have to go to the assisted living place she hates because my brother is a selfish jerk who only cares about hockey. And he’s not even in the major leagues just the junior varsity team.”
“I think that’s the national league in hockey and a feeder team,” I say, crossing my fingers as Barrett inches closer to the dog. “Now, let’s be quiet and calm and send Keanu good vibes. Everything is okay, buddy. You’re safe, and Barrett is going to let you have the rest of those eggs if you’re a good boy and let your dad get you off the stove.”
“I am not this animal’s father,” Barrett rumbles softly. “I’m his cantankerous uncle and he’s my ward. As such, I expect him to behave himself or he’ll be sent to boarding school.”
Thinking boarding school—or at least doggie day care with an obedience program might not be a bad idea—I make a mental note to discuss that with Barrett later.
“Now, come here, Beastie,” he says, reaching for the snuffling animal.
To everyone’s surprise, Keanu looks up, grins like the happiest monster in Too Many Teeth Town, and leaps at Barrett’s chest. Barrett catches him, easily supporting him with one hand as he reaches over and turns off the stove with the other. He moves the now quite stinky eggs to a cool burner and turns back to me with a gargling pup nuzzling his shirt.
“Is he…purring?’ I ask, cocking my head to one side.
“I think so.” Barrett seems uncomfortable, but when he glances down at the fawning Keanu, a small smile curves his lips. “He was doing it last night, too, while we were watching television. I thought maybe he liked PBS NewsHour, but maybe not.”
“Definitely not,” I say, my chest filling with warmth. “No one gets that happy about the news. He just loves his uncle.”
“I’m so glad. Honestly, I think I scared him as much as he scared me. I didn’t expect him to be able to jump that high. I think he might be part kangaroo,” Nora says, swiping at her damp cheeks as she continues to crouch on top of the counter, like a very cute goblin dressed all in pink.
Nora spends most of her time at home, running her handmade purse business and caring for her aging grandmother, but every time I see her, she’s always dressed like she’s headed to New York fashion week. Today is no different. Her gauzy top, tailored pink shorts, and white knee socks paired with pink heels would look ridiculous on me, but on blond and curvy Nora, they’re adorable.
And at least partially ruined.
“Here, let me help you down, honey,” I say, digging into the purse still looped across my chest as I go. I pull out sixty dollars, then think better of it and grab twenty more. “And this is for your shirt.” I press it into her hands as I reach for her elbow.
She takes it on instinct, but immediately tries to give it back. “Oh, no, Wren, I couldn’t. Barrett already paid me, and besides this is way too much. All I did was let Keanu out to pee at noon and five. And I picked up his poo, but it was so tiny, it wasn’t gross at all. Before the egg incident, I was actually thinking maybe I could handle a small dog.”
“It’s for your shirt,” I say, holding up a palm to refuse the money. “And I think a dog would be great for you and your gram, but you should make sure you find one you’re really comfortable with first. And probably one who’s a little less…eclectic than Keanu.”
“His paws and tongue are completely fine. No burns at all,” Barrett mumbles, lifting the happily wriggling dog up to stare deeper into its mouth. “He might actually be part hellhound. Or demon.”
Nora’s eyes go wide. “I don’t believe in demons, but you’re right, Wren. I need a calm, sweet, normal dog who can only jump a foot or two off the ground and respects the rules of fire and the universe. I’ve always been a bit of a chicken around animals.” She shivers. “Remember third grade?”
“And the way you hid under Mrs. Field’s desk every time she let the guinea pig out to play on the carpet during inside free time?’ I ask, rubbing Nora’s back as she nods and shivers again. “I do.”
“What a weirdo I was,” Nora mutters. “And still am, I guess.” She glances down at the spatula still in her hand.
“We’re all weird in one way or another,” I say, collecting the spatula and dropping it in the sink before guiding her to the door. “Don’t be hard on yourself. And tell your gram hi for me.”
“Will do. Sorry again, Barrett,” she calls past me. “I was really hoping this would work out, but I don’t think I’m ready to be a dog sitter.”
“It’s fine, Nora,” he says, offering her a smile over the still snuggle-inclined Keanu’s head. “Thanks for trying and I’ll figure something out. No worries at all.”
After I’ve assured Nora twice more that I want her to keep the eighty dollars and closed the door behind her, I turn back to see Barrett patiently enduring face licks from his new best friend. “Well, well,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “If this isn’t looking like a match made in heaven, I don’t know what is.”
“He’s a shameless feral beast who scared his dog sitter and peed in my shoes last night before I hid the rest of them in a locked closet.”
I shrug. “Nothing a little training can’t cure. I know a great doggie day care. Want me to call and see if they have space for Keanu?”
Barrett looks up, a strange expression on his face. “Maybe. But first, would you mind coming over here for a second?”
My brow furrows, but I smile as I say, “Okay. Why? Want me to see if I can spot any burn marks on your little devil?”
“Something like that,” he says, adding as I get close enough for Keanu’s hideously sweet face to be almost even with mine, “And to see if he likes you.”
“Of course, he likes me,” I say, reaching out to stroke the tiny dog’s head, smiling as he nuzzles closer and gives my fingers a lick. “Keanu clearly has great taste in people.”
“He does,” Barrett murmurs, his gaze caressing my face. “At least as far as you’re concerned.”
“I’m sure he would have liked Nora, too,” I say, trying to pretend that I don’t want to crawl up into Barrett’s arms, right along with the dog. “She was just nervous. And keeping him from food he saw as his. It was in his new house, after all.” I clear my throat, heart fluttering as I ask something I probably shouldn’t, “So, what would you have done if Keanu didn’t like me?”
“I would have informed the Furry Friends Society that I would be fostering him until they found another placement. But that I can’t have a dog who doesn’t get along with the important people in my life.”
I pull in a breath, torn between yelling at him and kissing him senseless. Why couldn’t he have said these things three months ago? Or even two? Why couldn’t he have reached out before I spent so much time guarding my heart against him?
Instead of either of those things, I surprise myself by saying, “I’ll be your date to the wedding. Text me the details,” I add hastily. “We can go as friends. That will be better, anyway. It’s more tasteful to bring a friend date than a date date to an ex’s wedding.”
He arches a brow. “I didn’t realize there was a protocol.”
“I’m not sure there is, not written down anywhere anyway, but that seems right.” I nod. The more I think about it, the more right it feels, too. “I mean, unless you had a woman who you’d been close with for a while. Otherwise, a friend is best. I’m sure Ms. Underwood is much more pleasant when she isn’t in pain, but you would have been rolling the dice on how a stranger would behave at such an important event.”
“She might have brought out her eggbeater during the vows,” he says, his lips quirking.
I fight a grin and lose. “Betsy told me about that. Why an eggbeater? What was she thinking?”
“I think she was just trying to make sure she was heard,” Barrett says, his expression sobering. “It’s recently been brought to my attention that being seen and heard is very important for most people.”
I arch a brow, my heart beating faster as the air thickens between us. “But not for you? Don’t you want to be seen and heard, Dr. McGuire?”
He hesitates but doesn’t look away. Finally, he offers in a softer voice, “It’s also recently come to my attention that I have a very large family.”
I huff out a laugh and tease, “That’s only recently come to your attention?”
“It’s only recently come to my attention that it might have affected the way I behave in other relationships, outside my family,” he says, clearly uncomfortable, though I’m not sure why. “To maintain any sense of privacy in a clan as large, and intrusive, as mine, I kept to myself and played my cards close to the chest.”
I nod. “Which makes sense. There aren’t many introverts in your family.”
“And not many rooms in the house where we grew up,” he says. “There was literally nowhere to hide except in my own thoughts. But my parents and siblings still knew me, and I knew them. We were too physically and emotionally close for it to be any other way. But in the real world…”
Starting to see where this is going, I say, “In the real world, where we respect each other’s boundaries, most people can’t get close enough to know you.”
“Or for me to know them, not in a meaningful way, anyway,” he says, his gaze dropping to the top of Keanu’s head. “Turns out therapy can be helpful, even if you’re not clinically depressed.”
My chest tightens, compassion mixing with all the old feelings to make it very hard not to wrap Barrett up in my arms. “Thanks for sharing that with me.”
“I did it because of you,” he says, increasing the pressure building behind my ribs. “I don’t want to be the kind of man who hurts the important people in my life. Even by accident.”
“Barrett, what the hell, I’ve been knocking for at least a minute. We’re going to be late to leg day and you know I can’t miss leg day.” Christian slams the front door behind him, interrupting before I can ask Barrett if I’m important because I’m his head nurse and right-hand gal or because he wants something more. Something real and beautiful and intimate, the way I did for so long. “Oh, hey Wren,” Chris continues, when he spots us in a face off in the middle of the living room. “Am I interrupting something? If so, I can?—”
“No, it’s fine,” I say, needing some time to think. To breathe. “I have to get home. I’m cooking Starling a curry recipe I learned at the yoga retreat in Thailand.”
Christian exhales a put-upon sigh. “Speaking of your sister, could you kindly ask her to stop making memes out of the shots from our photo shoot yesterday? Or at least stop posting them to social media? The one where it looks like I’m checking out the bulldog’s ass is disturbing.”
“And already going viral,” I say, fighting a grin. Starling texted me that meme before she posted it, and it’s pretty hysterical. “And donations are up by almost fifty percent today, so…”
Christian curses.
I laugh as I back toward the door.
“See you tomorrow,” I say to Barrett, then wiggle my fingers at Keanu. “Farewell, Mr. Reeves. Please be nice to your daddy and don’t cause any more trouble tonight.”
“Uncle,” Barrett corrects. “And Wren?—”
I turn back at the door, my heart flip-flopping like a fish all over again. “Yes?”
“Let me know about the conference tomorrow?” he adds. “I’d love for you to come if you can. Since it was your idea in the first place.”
I nod. “Will do.”
On the way down the drive, I turn everything that happened today over in my head. Barrett telling me that he was glad I was back, confessing why he was on that dating app, and baring his soul about seeking therapy. That might not seem like soul-baring to most people, but I know Barrett. I know how far out on a limb he just went to let me know that he wants to change.
I promised myself I wouldn’t fall back into destructive old patterns with him, but maybe this isn’t an old pattern.
Maybe this is something new.
I guess there’s one way to find out.
As soon as I get home, I call Kinsey and tell her I’m in for the conference and to please book me a single room. But maybe, if all goes well, I might need a room for two at some point in the not-too-distant future…
The thought is exciting. And terrifying. I don’t know if I can handle having my heart squashed again. Not so soon and by the same man who squashed it the first time.
I’ll have to proceed cautiously. Carefully.
But I’m still packing my new green sheath dress for the trip. Cautious and careful is good, but a curve-hugging dress that will remind Barrett of that time we were naked together can’t be a bad thing. Right?
“I don’t know,” I mutter to myself as I stir the curry and Starling makes side salads by the sink.
“Well, I think it’s fairly simple,” Starling says, startling me. I was so lost in my thoughts; I haven’t been paying attention to our conversation. “Christian McGuire is just jealous that I’m better at fundraising than he is. There’s no other reason to ask me to take the memes down when they’re bringing in money hand over fist. I mean, it’s not like I put a picture of him in his banana hammock on any of them, so I don’t know what he’s complaining about.”
Glancing at her over my shoulder, I ask, “You have one of those?”
Her lips curve in a diabolical smile. “I do. I pulled it from a friend of a friend’s social media, someone who didn’t promise Christian that they wouldn’t post pics of him in stripper mode on the internet. I’m saving it for a special occasion when I really want to piss him off. Or for blackmail. We’ll see how things shake down.”
I laugh. “What are you going to blackmail him for? Control of the ball decorating committee?”
“No way,” she says, chopping cucumbers. “I’ll get that through sheer stubbornness and badgering alone. I’m saving blackmail for something special. Something secret. But I will say this—if you and Christian end up heading back to his place after the ball, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. I haven’t seen too many in real life, but judging from the porn I’ve watched, his eggplant may be something worth writing home about.”
“Ew.” I wrinkle my nose, not at all tempted by the thought of Christian’s eggplant. His big brother’s eggplant is all I can think about, and I certainly wouldn’t write home or anywhere else about it. I want to keep the secrets of his skill and beauty all to myself.
Starling shrugs. “I don’t know. They’re growing on me. Eggplants can be kind of cute in a gross, mushroom-y kind of way. Kind of like Keanu Reeves. The dog, not the human. The human flat out slays. He can be my Zaddy any time.”
“Gross, Starling,” I say. “I don’t want to hear that kind of stuff. If you like kinky things, that’s fine, but please keep it to yourself.”
She laughs so hard she snorts. “Oh my God, Wren, relax. It just means an older guy who’s stylish. It isn’t kinky. Or…it doesn’t have to be, anyway. Though I bet Christian is that kind of guy, the kind who wants you to call him Zaddy, while he spanks you or something.”
“Keep it up, and I’m going to throw hot curried carrot on you.”
She giggles again. “No, you won’t. It’ll stain the floor. And you should really relax and embrace Christian’s true self. Since you’re going to the ball with him and everything.”
Smelling a rat, I nod. “You’re right. Maybe I should. I’ll look up some spanking stuff online later.”
Starling groans. “Ugh. You’re the worst.”
“Because I see through your schemes?”
“Yes. You should go to the ball with Dr. McGuire. This is clearly a case of the wrong Prince Charming, and who wants to go out with a guy who can’t take a joke? They’re the literal worst.” She pulls her cell from her back jeans pocket, glancing at the screen before she holds it out toward me. “See? He’s texted me eight times asking me to take down that shot of him ogling the bulldog’s butt. Does that seem like a me problem to you? No, that’s a him problem. If he hadn’t ogled whoever was standing by the bulldog, this never would have happened. He has no one but himself and his own hungry eyes to blame.” Starling squeals as she plops her cell on the counter and returns to cutting cucumbers. “Which reminds me! They’re showing Dirty Dancing as one of the summer movies in the park this year! We have to go! And dress up as Baby and her sister. You have to be Baby because you’re shorter, even though I’m technically the little sister.”
I agree and the conversation turns to all the things we have to do this summer, now that Starling’s back in Bad Dog.
We have a wonderful night, but as I slide into bed later, it still feels like something’s missing. Something maybe I’ll find in the man I shouldn’t have counted out, after all…