Chapter 10 Dom
DOM
Lulu greeted me the second I reached my truck, her tail thumping against the door.
“You’re happy to see me, huh? Thought you’d be plotting revenge while I was gone.”
I rubbed behind her ears. “Good dog, Lulu. You did good.”
She’d led me to Autumn.
And saving a life had never hit me quite like this.
I wasn’t new to high-stakes situations. Hell, I’d spent years navigating legal minefields and pulling people back from the brink—just in a courtroom, not a hillside.
Most of my life had been one long exercise in trying to prove my father wrong. To show him I wasn’t weak. But the harder I pushed, the more hollow it felt.
With Autumn, I didn’t have to prove a thing. I simply became strong for her because she needed me to be.
Lulu gave a single bark toward something behind me. I still didn’t speak her language, but I thought she’d noticed someone she half-remembered but wasn’t sure she liked yet.
“Dom!” Logan Pierce’s voice rang out across the lot. He jogged toward me. “Everything okay? How’s Autumn?”
“She’s patched up,” I said. “Doc’s got her on antibiotics and says she’ll be fine.”
“Good to hear.”
Lulu barked at him.
Log approached, grinning. “Hey there, girl.” He reached down and gave her a friendly pat. Lulu gave him a narrow-eyed look, then dropped her belly to the ground.
“She still holds grudges,” I said. “She didn’t like riding in the back of your truck.”
Log chuckled, rubbing her belly with both hands. “Yeah? Been chauffeured your whole life, huh?”
“Hey, can I ask for a favor?”
He straightened. “Shoot.”
“Would you take Lulu for a couple of days? Just till I figure something out. I checked every pet-friendly motel in town…well, all two of them, but no luck.”
“Shocking,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. “It’s summer rush. I think there’s a waitlist for waitlists.”
Lulu sat upright again, her tail swishing. Log looked from her to me.
“Man, I wish I could.” His face tightened with guilt.
“Riley and I just brought in two new rescues, and Boomer’s still limping from that busted leg.
They’re all over the place. It’s chaos at home right now, with fur, barking, and pissing contests in every corner. I’d hate to toss Lulu into that mess.”
She barked at him again, but gentler now. A tease, maybe. Or maybe forgiveness.
He scratched under her chin. “I know, I know. You’re a lady. You deserve better.”
“She agrees,” I said.
“Sorry, girl,” he told her softly. “Next time, you’ve got a spot.”
“It’s okay, Log. I’ll figure something else out.”
“Lazy Moose’s out, I’m guessing? Wedding season’s in full swing.” Log glanced at me. “And Noah and Elia are still away?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Can’t leave Lulu there.”
He hesitated. “You could try the shelter. Want me to talk to Mr. Gunn? Put in a good word?”
I gave a half-smile. “That’s kind of you. But I’ll talk to him.”
Mr. Gunn was a Buffaloberry staple—part local legend, part community grump. He was said to have mellowed over time, though during my short stints here, I’d seen little proof. He liked animals better than people, and I was still in the latter category.
Log clapped me on the shoulder. “Well, good luck. And tell Autumn I said to feel better.”
“Will do.”
I climbed into my truck and glanced down at Lulu. “Okay, girl. Let’s figure out where to stash you.”
She tilted her head.
“You’re not staying at my motel,” I said. “The whole town would find out. Lawyer breaks the rules? That’s bad PR.”
She licked her nose, unimpressed.
Right. My fault for not booking a pet-friendly place. Who moves to a new town, rescues a girl off a mountain, and ends up in joint custody of her dog?
Guys like me, apparently.
I pulled out of the hospital parking lot and headed toward town, past streets lined with old-fashioned lampposts and flower boxes spilling with blooms. Buffaloberry Hill had the kind of charm that came out of those Hallmark movies my mom used to watch.
I couldn’t wait to show Autumn around. She’d seen the trails, sure. But not the river. Not properly.
And I hoped what happened out there hadn’t ruined it for her. I didn’t think it had. She didn’t rattle easily.
“Guess we’re on our own, huh?” I said to Lulu.
With no better option, I headed for the shelter, bracing myself.
It wasn’t exactly my idea of a good stop, but maybe it was the safest. I didn’t even know if Lulu was up to date on her vaccinations.
The last thing I needed was to make her patient zero in Log’s already chaotic pack.
At least at the shelter, the dogs were separated.
I stepped through the door into a space that smelled of baked treats and dried meat. The walls looked recently painted, the floors were swept, the counter was organized, and even the bulletin board looked current.
Mr. Gunn stood near the front, taping up a photo of a beagle mix with one bold word across it: Adopted.
“Mr. Gunn,” I greeted, trying for polite.
He grunted. Not a word. Just a sound.
Yeah, this was gonna be a joy.
“Hi. I’m Dom, and this is Lulu,” I said, shifting slightly so Lulu was front and center. This was harder than cross-examining a hostile witness.
“Yeah?” He squinted.
Lulu tilted her head, appraising him right back.
“I was wondering if you could take her in—”
“You waltz up here thinking you can just offload this beautiful dog like she’s some unwanted luggage? What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Despite his tone, his eyes gave it away. He wanted to reach out to Lulu, but held back as if the connection was some line he wasn’t ready to cross.
“Mr. Gunn—”
“A dog ain’t a problem to pass along when it’s inconvenient.”
“No, you’ve got it wrong.”
He harrumphed.
Mistake number one: Coming here at all. Mistake number two: Telling a man like him he was wrong.
“Just for a couple of days,” I backpedaled. “Her owner’s in the hospital, and I’m stuck at a motel.”
“This ain’t no damn doggy hotel,” he barked.
“She’s house-trained,” I said, mustering my most convincing face. She hadn’t gone inside my tent. That had to count for something, right?
“Yeah? So was my ex-wife, and she still ruined my damn carpet.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. It was probably best to let that one go.
Lulu, meanwhile, had taken a different approach. She walked straight into Mr. Gunn’s personal space, sat down, and wagged her tail, all big blue eyes and impossible charm.
“She’s a good dog,” I said, because the old man already looked halfway to caving.
“Lulu, that her name, you said?”
“Yes.”
“Lulu,” he repeated, as if testing it.
She wagged her tail harder.
“Well,” he muttered, rubbing his beard. “Truth is, the shelter’s real full. And my home is even fuller. I can’t take her, I’m sorry.”
I exhaled as I led Lulu outside, empty-handed, aside from the dog currently filling both my hands.
“Hey.” Mr. Gunn’s voice stopped me. He held out a collar and leash. “Take these. A dog shouldn’t be wandering around unleashed.”
“Thanks.” I took them and buckled the pink collar around Lulu’s neck, then hooked her up. She didn’t fuss. Clearly, she was used to this.
I guided her to the truck. It had been a long time since I’d had a dog. I’d forgotten how fast they wrapped around your heart.
She was the very picture of innocence, her eyes full of hope. Her belly, legs, and tail were streaked with dried mud, but her face was spotless.
And I was already screwed.
Which was how I found myself smuggling thirty pounds of contraband fur into a motel room.
Lulu was thrilled about our criminal activity.
I, meanwhile, was debating whether sneaking a dog into a room was the lowest crime I’d ever committed or the lowest crime I’d ever defended.
The jury was out.
I got her settled, then stripped off my shirt, tossing it on the chair before heading for the shower. The hot water worked wonders on my sore muscles, washing away the last of the dirt and exhaustion.
By the time I stepped out with a towel around my waist, Lulu was sprawled across the bed.
“You’re a terrible fugitive,” I told her, toweling off my hair.
She yawned.
“Fine. If I go down for this, you’re my accomplice.”
Her tail thumped once.
I sighed, grabbed the complimentary shampoo, and gave her a bath in the tub, which she hated.
“You were rolling in mud like it was a spa treatment,” I grumbled as she gave me the most betrayed look imaginable.
Eventually, I got her dry and back onto the bed, where she immediately curled up on my pillow.
Whatever. She’d earned it.
Then, I did what any man in my position would do.
I ordered delivery.
And I ordered big.
By the time the food arrived, Lulu and I were knee deep in the best meal we’d had in days. Steak, mashed potatoes, and some kind of chocolate cake I’d probably regret eating at midnight. Lulu got her own plate of grilled chicken.
“I think we pulled off the heist of the century,” I said as she demolished her food.
She licked my hand in approval.
I stretched out on the bed, full and finally relaxed. The news droned in the background, nothing I was really watching. Until a segment caught my ear.
It was about a missing young woman from up north, near Hamilton. The anchor said her name was Deborah Sinclair. They flashed her photo on screen. She had tightly curled hair, clear eyes, and a big smile.
“Poor thing,” I murmured, rubbing Lulu’s back as she barked, too focused on the screen for a dog.
Then I reached for the remote and turned it off. It was heartbreaking how easily someone could just vanish, but I wasn’t here to worry about the world. Instead, I let myself think about Autumn.
It was almost funny how this whole thing started.
I had just wanted to get a little peace and remind myself that life was more than courtrooms and case files, late nights and last-minute defense strategies.
I hadn’t expected to nearly fall face-first into a mess of trouble.
Hadn’t expected her.
She was in her early twenties, max. Still in the part of life where everything was supposed to be figured out, even though it never really was.
And here she was. Alone. Hanging on for dear life.
Being a lawyer had taught me that sometimes, the job wasn’t just about the law. Sometimes, it was about being there for someone when no one else was. Right or wrong, guilty or innocent, people needed someone.
And somehow, Autumn had become that person for me.
I lived by logic. I didn’t believe in soulmates, fate, or whatever romantic notion made a person giddy over someone they barely knew.
But here I was.
I liked her being in my life. In a way that hadn’t made sense to me before.
Small towns had a way of making a man believe in something bigger than himself.
L.A. never shaped me into the settling-down type, but Buffaloberry Hill might.
And while I’d laughed off Noah’s ticking-clock jab, I knew better.
Thirty-three wasn’t old, but it wasn’t endless, either.
I should’ve been fine with the no-encores life.
But some things in men don’t change, no matter the century.
Sooner or later, they look for something to tether them.
And more often than not, that kind of stability comes with a woman.
“Oh, fuck!” I drawled and stretched under the covers. It was an annoying thought, but why was I feeling like a man in love?
The truth was, Autumn wasn’t my type.
She was too young, too bold, and too unpredictable.
I was used to women who scheduled their feelings between meetings and kept their hearts neat and tucked behind ambition.
Not that those connections ever lasted. But they didn’t need to.
A type was a type. Intense, with clean exits, and no risk of catching anything real.
Autumn didn’t play by those rules.
And still, she got to me. Not just because she needed help and not because I’d carried her through the woods or kept her warm through a storm. It was the way she looked at me, with no expectation that anyone would stay, already bracing for me to disappear.
The trouble was, I didn’t want to disappear.
I rolled onto my stomach and dragged a pillow over my head, swearing into the mattress. How the hell had this spiraled so fast?
She wasn’t my type. Never had been.
And I had no damn business wanting her to be.
I glanced over at Lulu, who was already snoring, her paws twitching like she was chasing something in her dreams. I reached over to pat the top of her head. “All right, listen. One rule.”
She snored louder.
I lowered my voice, dead serious. “Don’t do what you did inside the tent.”
No response.
Just a tiny tail wag.