Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
CALLUM
I hated quarterly tax paperwork. So did Finn and Alex, so it was a task we’d agreed to take turns on. I’d come in early to get a start on it without distractions. If I could get it to a certain point, I’d probably be able to train Parker to at least gather the requisite numbers. I worried a little that we’d overload her. We’d already foisted so many things off. But so far she’d seemed to thrive, and I had to believe that she’d speak up if she felt overwhelmed.
The jangling of the bell out front alerted me to her arrival. It had to be Parker. Alex and Finn always came in the back, as I did. I’d gotten used to the sound of her arrival each morning, the quiet rustling as she settled in for the day.
But something was different this morning. Her voice drifted back, pitched low and gentle. “Okay, you have to be a good boy. Understand?”
Who the hell was she talking to?
The murmuring continued, punctuated by what sounded like some kind of clicking against the hardwood floor.
Oh Christ. Had she brought in a stray? I thought we were done with that, since Alex had adopted the wee kitten we’d found during renovations. This was a business, not an animal rescue. Never mind the fact that the building had started its life as a pet spa before we’d gotten hold of it.
Abandoning the spreadsheets on my monitor, I shoved back from the desk and went to investigate. The brighter fluorescent lights stabbed at my good eye as I emerged from the cave of my office.
And there she was, all five-foot nothing of her, practically dwarfed by an enormous white... something. The creature looked more like a polar bear than a dog, with thick, fluffy fur and a tail that could double as a feather duster.
I could only shake my head. “What?—?”
Her usual brilliant smile held a nervous edge as she laid a hand on the animal’s head. “Good morning! There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
The beast’s tail started wagging with enough force to generate electricity.
“This is Falkor. My new dog.” Her tone held a mix of pride, affection, and a little bit of defiance, as if she expected me to challenge her right to pet ownership.
I remembered her asking Hamish just days ago if he allowed pets in the flat, but I hadn’t expected her to get one so quickly. Or one quite so… massive.
The dog gazed up at me with liquid brown eyes, and I took an instinctive step back. Not because I was afraid—I’d faced down insurgents, for Christ’s sake—but because that look promised an imminent tongue bath I wasn’t in the least prepared to receive.
“Right. Why is he here?” It seemed the most diplomatic of all the questions crowding my mind.
Parker pressed her lips together and widened those long-lashed, Disney-princess eyes in a hopeful expression that I suspected she’d perfected since she was a toddler. Damn if it wasn’t effective.
“Well...” She twisted her fingers in Falkor’s fur. “I didn’t want to leave him alone at the flat all day, and I figured it would be less disruptive to bring him here instead of me needing to go home to let him out a couple of times a day.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “This seems like such a dog-friendly village, and I swear he’s a good boy. He won’t cause any problems.”
As if to prove her point, she unclipped his lead. The beast immediately padded over to me, tail swooshing like a metronome. Before I could dodge, he’d swiped his tongue across my hand, leaving behind a trail of warm slobber.
I jerked my hand back with a grimace and wiped it against my jeans.
“Oh, no.” Parker’s face fell. “Do you not like dogs?”
Christ, she looked so distressed you’d have thought I’d kicked the dog. Or maybe her. Those big doe eyes had gone all soft and worried, and something in my chest clenched.
“I like dogs fine,” I grumbled. “I just dinna care for being slobbered on.”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “We’re working on that.” She shot the dog a fond look as he returned to her side, plopping his butt to the floor. “He just has a lot of love to give.”
That made two of them. Parker radiated warmth like a miniature sun, and this polar bear of hers seemed to be cut from the same cloth. God help me.
The sound of the rear door opening echoed from the back. A minute later, Alex and Finn strode in, deep in conversation about some equipment order. They both stopped short at the sight of the massive white beastie.
“Well, what have we here?” Finn’s face split into a grin. The traitor immediately dropped into a crouch, and Falkor bounded over, treating him to the same enthusiastic greeting I’d received. The difference being Finn seemed to welcome it.
“This is Falkor. He’s my new dog. Consider him the new office mascot.”
Alex hunkered down, too, his eyes lit with amusement. “Were we in need of a mascot?”
Parker caught her lip between her teeth, drawing my gaze unerringly to her mouth.
“—unconventional. But I didn’t want to leave him at home all day. Since I don’t have a car, it would take too much time to go back and forth multiple times to let him out. I thought he could stay here with me. I mean, I know this is my workspace.” She gestured to the front area she’d turned into command central. “But I swear, he won’t be any trouble with the clients.”
I watched my partners exchange grins. This was precisely the sort of thing we should have discussed beforehand, made a proper policy about. But between Parker’s hopeful expression and Alex already down on the floor getting his face washed by the beast, I knew I was outnumbered.
“Course he can stay,” Alex said, as I’d known he would. The man loved anything with four legs and fur. “Could do with a mascot around here.”
“He seems friendly enough,” Finn observed, still fussing over the dog.
“Too friendly,” I muttered, though apparently not quietly enough because Parker shot me a look.
The beast had already charmed my partners. I could see how this was going to go—he’d have the run of the place by the end of the week. And somehow, watching Parker’s face radiating joy as she watched the dog make himself at home, I couldn’t bring myself to argue about it.
Over the next hour, I couldn’t help noticing things about Parker’s new companion. The dog might have been overenthusiastic with his greetings, but there was no missing his training. He stuck to Parker’s side like he’d been glued there, particularly when she moved around the office. More than once, I caught her with her hand resting on his back as she walked, almost as if she was using him for balance.
When she dropped her pen, he retrieved it before she could even bend down. Every movement was precise, practiced. As if the dog was anticipating her every need.
“Where exactly did you get him?” I finally asked, after watching him fetch her water bottle from where she’d left it on the counter.
“Oh.” Parker looked up from her computer, that same hand automatically finding its way to Falkor’s head. “Saoirse brought him to my flat last night. She thought we’d be a good match.”
“Did she know you were looking for a dog?”
A slight flush crept into her cheeks. “Not exactly. We’d talked about how I wanted to get one once I was settled here, and then she came across him at her practice.” Her whole face softened as she looked down at the dog. “He’s such a sweet, wonderful boy. Aren’t you, Falkor?”
The dog’s tail thumped against the floor, and he gazed up at her with pure adoration. That made two of us, then.
Shite. Where had that thought come from?
The dog chose that moment to leave Parker’s side and pad over to me. Before I could object, he’d settled his head against my knee, those brown eyes looking up at me expectantly. My hand moved of its own accord, fingers sinking into his thick fur. He was surprisingly soft.
The tension I’d been carrying in my shoulders—courtesy of too much time squinting at spreadsheets—began to ease. Even the persistent headache that had been brewing behind my good eye faded a bit as I stroked his head.
Maybe having an office dog wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
But there was something else going on here. Something in the way Parker watched the dog work, in the careful way she’d explained his presence. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
Then again, Parker Lawrence had been a mystery from the moment she’d walked through our door. Why should her dog be any different?
The dog kept making these… rounds, I suppose you’d call them. Every so often, he’d get up from his spot near Parker and do a circuit of the office. Check on each of us in turn. Professional behavior wrapped in a blanket of barely contained enthusiasm.
Around eleven, my head was pounding again—the screen’s glare doing me no favors. I’d been fighting with the same set of numbers for twenty minutes when I felt that now-familiar weight on my knee.
“What?” I growled, not looking down.
Falkor didn’t move, didn’t react to my tone. Just stayed there, a steady presence, until my hand dropped to his head of its own accord.
The repetitive motion of stroking his fur drew my focus away from the frustration that had been building. My breathing slowed to match his, and gradually the vice grip around my temples began to ease.
When I finally looked down, he was watching me with those intelligent eyes. No judgment, no wariness—just quiet companionship.
“Alright,” I muttered. “You’ve made your point.”
His tail thumped once against the floor, and he stayed until my shoulders had completely relaxed. Then he rose, gave my hand one last gentle lick, and padded back to Parker’s desk, where I knew he’d settle at her feet.
An office mascot. Right. This dog was something else entirely. But having seen Parker’s quiet smile as she worked, noting how much smoother our morning had gone with him here—which was saying something given Parker ran a tight ship—I supposed I could live with a bit of dog hair on my trousers. And maybe—though I’d deny it if anyone asked—even the occasional tongue bath.