Chapter 17
Alec settled his hands on his hips and evaluated the pop-up tents stationed around West Meadow’s dog park.
Three tents in total, with an adoption day crowd that was nothing to sneeze at.
No, it wasn’t the largest gathering, but it was a fair bit better than anything else he could call to mind for a staged outing with Marisa, given the time constraints.
Where there would be kissing.
Might be kissing.
Very hopefully would be touching of some sort. If she needed him to.
If she let him.
“Oh, bloody fucking hell.” Alec threw his fingers into his hair, angling for the distraction that usually came when he was looking to tug out his frustrations, but then he recalled he’d opted to keep his hair short the past several months.
Because it impeded his play during the season.
Because it required too much upkeep otherwise.
Because he was responsible and had a bloody job to do.
The self-criticism had been a touch overloud, apparently, because at his side, Hugh snorted his thoughts on the matter into the crunchy snow around them, painting the light crust with a drool string that dried on contact.
At least Hugh hadn’t pissed all over Alec’s boot like the last time the cur felt the need to criticize his plans.
Alec crouched down and gathered up the wily beast’s wrinkly face.
“Now you listen here. I’ll be introducing you to a new friend shortly, and I want you to play nice.
Play better than nice. Play the nicest you’ve ever played.
That means minimal slobbering, no jumping, and keep the tricks to fetching a stick and bringing it back.
This is what we call a photo op, which means we need to look and behave our best.”
Then he leaned close so his nose was almost touching Hugh’s snow-covered snoot.
“And whatever you do, do not run after whatever strange scent you might pick up on. There are a ton of dogs here, as well as families all looking to give one of them a home. It won’t do to have you barking and grinding all over a pack of eight-year-olds because one of them has dog treats in their pocket. ”
The cunning look that flashed in the mastiff’s brown eyes wasn’t the reassurance Alec had been hankering for, but it was what he’d have to work with. Huffing, Hugh settled into the snow and began nonchalantly crunching away as if Alec had said nothing important.
Infuriating creature. He’d gotten kinder lectures from Brennan after he’d blown a match. To Argentina, of all teams.
“Alec!” Marisa churned up a flurry of chunky snow as she trotted across the field from the parking lot.
His chest tightened, and he couldn’t help but smile.
Och, she was like a veritable bouncing puppy coming to greet him, all eager limbs and floppy enthusiasm.
The crocheted hat she wore sat flat over her ears and cheeks, ending with two pom-pom-studded tassels that swayed in time to her steps. He chuckled to himself.
Could she be any more adorable? Not bloody likely.
With her high-necked puffer coat and massively oversized furry hood, there was very little to distinguish her from several of the other double-doodle-dog whatnots prancing about in their Christmas coats and jingle bell collars.
Except her smile.
A fluttery sensation warmed his skin, and his heart nearly sprinted out of his chest at the sight of it.
Quickly, he searched his brain for what he’d done that could have earned him such a greeting so he could be sure to repeat the effort, but all that came to mind was her wanting to kiss him again.
And him being way too fucking eager to oblige.
Contrary to his earlier pep talk, he was not responsible.
Hugh stood up, let out an eager bark, and began whacking Alec’s calf with his tail.
“Easy, Hugh. You’ll get your sniffs in. Just be patient.”
“And who would this be?” she asked when she greeted them, all flushed and cheerful, holding out her hand for Hugh to smell.
“Marisa Silver, I’d like to introduce you to Hugh, my brother’s frequently unenthused mastiff and, for the time being, my roommate.”
Her bonny eyes brightened, and her delightful smile widened. “Oh, so you’re the one who eats all of Alec’s steaks.”
“Only the good steaks, mind you. The bastard nabbed an entire ribeye clean off the counter before it had even finished resting. The meat wasn’t there for thirty seconds before it leapt into this knucklehead’s gaping maw, and I had to settle for frozen pizza for dinner.”
“Well, I hope you at least heated the pizza up first.”
“Haha,” he remarked dryly, folding his arms across his chest. “The loss was survivable, but I’ll have you know I suffered greatly for it.”
At her feet, Hugh was rolling around like a pig in shit, giving her as much of his belly to rub as could fit in front of her. And like a perfectly pleasant woman used to disregarding men in favor of furry animals, she got right to work laying her hands all over him.
Alec was not jealous, nor did he yank on Hugh’s harness just a wee bit tighter, dragging the beast upright sooner than the dog appreciated so they could get on with what Alec had planned.
“So, what’s on the schedule for this morning?” Marisa asked, rising to her feet and dusting off the snow from her coat. “Are we adopting a dog?”
“No,” Alec said, leading them over to the rest of the plowed walkways that led toward the tents.
“But we are here to be seen. This is the annual adoption event where a bunch of the local animal rescues team up to try and find their critters new homes before the holid—” Alec stalled out, remembering that the world holiday was not synonymous with Christmas for everyone.
“Christmas, you mean,” Marisa finished for him.
“It’s okay. You can call it the holidays.
I won’t be offended. Remember, I sell Christmas cheer for a living this time of year.
And I also feel that my boyfriend should know that about me.
” She winked at him, and whatever tension that had wrapped itself around his lungs eased each time the corner of her mouth tugged higher.
It was a curious thing to hear the word boyfriend and how it had begun to feel so much more than a casting choice.
There was still a heft to it, aye, but one his muscles had become accustomed to lifting.
It was a good weight, too, one that sat comfortably around him, commending him for finally wearing a skin that seemed to suit so well, as if the life he regularly carried around was a perpetually poor fit.
Hugh took Alec’s moment of silence to curl around one of Marisa’s legs and rub his swaying jowls all over her boots.
Alec sighed, knowing when another’s affection was favored over his. “Here, you want to walk him a bit while we chat?”
“Do I ever?” Marisa eagerly reached for the lead and looped the handle around her wrist while Alec double-checked Hugh’s harness buckles.
“Just hang onto him tight. Mastiffs are huge, powerful animals, but they don’t have the energy of, say, a border collie.
He likely already expended his maximum allotment of energy for the day just rubbing all over you, but with all these tiny yappers around, there’s no saying something won’t spook him. And once he pulls—”
“Let me guess. Hang on tight?”
Alec slowed his stride, snatched up her mittened hand, and stared down at her. “No, you hang onto me.”
In the parking lot, cars began filing in, with doors opening and closing one by one as families, all red-nosed and cheery-cheeked, strode eagerly toward the adoption tents.
There were several fenced-off areas where dogs of all shapes and sizes—and decked out in an abundance of flippant finery that had no business gracing any creature larger than ten pounds—leapt and rolled through the snowy mounds erected by the volunteers for canine enjoyment.
Rows of kennels and crates housing all the unamused cats available for adoption were set farther back from the larger crowds but not so far as to be forgotten or left out.
The event was small and cozy, with only two food vendors selling wares: one dispensing hot apple cider, hot chocolate, and coffee, and the other handing out warm soft pretzels with tiny tubs of that melted plastic cheese Americans were so fond of.
It was the perfect holiday photo op for what he had planned, set against the backdrop of frosted pine trees and nearby streetlamps adorned with wire snowflakes that would light up as soon as the sun went down.
As expected, Hugh had walked over to the pretzel maven, tugging Marisa and Alec behind him.
The two of them engaged in good-natured conversation with people, and Alec bought two pretzels and two coffees, let some of the kids pet Hugh, and made sure everyone’s phone was out when he gave donations to the animal rescues while encouraging people to follow Sweetest Heart’s Desire online and directing them to the site for Crystal Christmas Ball tickets.
Eventually, his hand had somehow slipped from simply holding Marisa’s to banding behind her back and pulling her close. When he finally realized just how personal and cozy he was getting, he remembered they’d yet to discuss those bloody ground rules he’d promised to establish.
As if his conscience were mocking him.
Marisa was just finishing up chatting with a lovely couple who was interested in the Ball when she turned to him, beaming with the glow of what he suspected was a new scheme.
“That was the fourteenth couple I’ve talked to today who expressed interest in seeing us at the Ball.
They normally don’t even consider going, because it means they’d have to get a babysitter and those are hard to find on Christmas Eve, but they’re going to try.
They seemed super intrigued with the ribbon candy I plan on throwing in the treat boxes. ”
“Not the Jamaican gingerbread? I thought that was your fan favorite so far.”
Marisa pulled away from him slightly and hugged herself, and whatever comfortable cadence they’d found with each other that morning turned stilted and worrisome.
“The grocer I usually work with is completely out of stock of the extract I need. I called him this morning, hoping that perhaps their site just wasn’t updated when it said they were out of stock, but nope, it was accurate.
Sure, I could try making it with other ginger, but then I worry it wouldn’t be distinguished enough.
People are paying a pretty penny for tickets.
There’s no way I can risk anything that would taste even remotely ordinary.
I’m going for traditional flavors with flair.
I can’t do that with the powdered shit, raw ginger isn’t suited well for this application, and there isn’t enough time to make my own ginger extract. It takes too long to distill properly.”
“Did he say when he’s expecting another shipment? Or is there another supplier in the area that I could pick up an order from?”
She shook her head. “There’s no time. I’ll have to think of something else.”
“Have any of the other photos of what you’ll be serving racked up the interest that the Jamaican gingerbread has?”
“Not even close. But,” Marisa said, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders, doing her best to walk in stride with wherever Hugh was now dragging them to, “I’ve got some other concepts to try. They’re not fleshed out yet, but I’ll get there.”
Alec heard the trepidation in her voice and the even stronger ring of her determination to fight through it. It was a grit he was very familiar with.
“You’re bloody brilliant, you know. Truly.” Alec swallowed against the insistent shiver snaking down his spine, the one that urged him to move closer to her like the wholehearted idiot he’d become whenever she smiled at him.
Marisa tugged on Hugh’s lead slightly. The mastiff instantly ceased his lumbering and eagerly obeyed, plopping his arse into the snow at her feet in a way he’d never done for Alec. Bloody smitten bastard.
And then another thought flitted through his mind as his chest tightened when she turned to face him. I’m right there with you, pal.
“People really seem to like us together,” Marisa said, wringing the lead between her hands.
He nodded. “That they do.”
“So many people have taken pictures. I haven’t checked my phone in a minute, but it keeps vibrating in my pocket. I’m guessing I’m getting all sorts of tags and mentions.”
She shifted Hugh’s lead to her left hand, leaving her to fidget and pump the right one absentmindedly, as if she were trying to ward off a chill that had set in. Made sense, as she’d largely been keeping her fingers clenched around the strap all this time.
“I have this crazy idea,” Marisa said, biting her lip.
“Oh?” He pointed two fingers at her cramping hand and gestured for her to give it to him. Following the most dramatic eye roll he’d ever seen, she finally relented, pulled off her mitten, and gave him her hand.
Bloody Christ, her fingers were freezing and tighter than his joints after a post-match ice bath. He got to work with single-minded focus, immediately rubbing warmth back into them.
“So, about my crazy idea,” she said, sighing as she began to move her fingers more freely. “What if you kissed me in front of the large pine tree over by the pretzel cart and made it really convincing that we were together? You know, as per the ground rules.”
The ground rules they’d never gotten around to discussing because he was too caught up in whatever sacred magic Marisa always seemed to carry with her.
Roaring heat flooded his body. “I have a crazy idea,” he said, lowering his head as he hunted for more of her fragrance with a determination that had begun to border on worship. “What if we didn’t call it crazy?”
She lifted her mouth to his, and he bent down, more than eager to claim what she offered, to warm the other parts of her as well, her cheeks, nose, lips—
Hugh’s ears perked up, his large body tensing against the lead. Then his broad-skulled head whipped toward the woods right next to the walking path they were on, and Alec caught the flash of orange that had snagged Hugh’s attention.
A fox.
Motherfucker.
Knowing exactly what was coming, Alec wrapped one arm tightly around Marisa, who was still holding the lead slackly in her left hand.
With a speed born of instinct, he yanked her to his chest, barely having time to secure her head beneath his chin before he grabbed the lead from her with his free hand and braced for what was coming.
A massive spray of snow was kicked up against them as Hugh bolted toward the woods, dragging them both to the ground.