Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Miles carefully folded the cuffs of his button-down shirt until they hugged his forearms just below his elbows.
The sultry July heat had finally beaten him.
No matter how much he hated the scars wrapping his shoulder and bicep, he had to do something, or risk heat stroke.
He also wore khaki pants and loafers, though everyone else at Abby and Scott’s summer barbecue would probably be in shorts and T-shirts, if not swimsuits.
Technically, they’d been invited separately, but when he’d mentioned going together, Jif had immediately agreed, eyes glowing as she talked about how much her friends wanted to meet him and how they’d love Nix.
“C’mon, boy,” he called as he grabbed his keys off the table. “Want to go visit Jif?”
Nix came running, toenails scrabbling on the linoleum kitchen floor. Like the words walk, bath, and vet, he recognized Jif’s name.
Miles scrubbed the dog’s ears between his hands, then clipped his leash.
Loaded into the car, they drove to Jif’s, and Miles climbed her front stairs with only the slightest twinge of pain. He’d come a long way since their first date.
Though she’d invited him to always make himself at home, he still rang the doorbell and waited.
“Coming,” she shouted through her cracked bedroom window on the second floor, a habit she’d developed since he refused to barge in. “Just a sec!”
A thud followed, and he worried for a moment until the rhythmic sound of her descending the stairs assured him she hadn’t fallen.
She wrenched open the door, cheeks flushed from rushing. “I’m ready!”
One glance at her and he crowded over the threshold to capture her lips with his, kissing her thoroughly, slowly, until her cheeks brightened and her breath caught for an entirely different reason.
Served her right, answering in a neon pink string bikini. Oh, she’d covered it with a long, flowing top that brushed her thighs, but the loose, eyelet pattern left absolutely nothing to the imagination, though his would happily conjure the remaining covered scraps if he’d let it.
He could not, however, imagine the confidence or intimacy of baring his body to Jif, never mind a host of strangers. Would he ever be able to enjoy a pool party, a day at the beach, or even an afternoon of playing basketball again without worrying about other people’s judgment?
He rested his forehead against hers, swallowing a groan as the long length of her body contacted his at every point, driving his depressing thoughts from his head.
“You like.” A statement more than a question, her breathlessness belied her smug tone.
“I like,” he assured her.
Then, he kissed her again, for good measure.
She pinched one of his cuffs after he broke away. “You should roll your sleeves more often; you have sexy forearms.”
“Sexy forearms?” His brows rose. “I don’t think there’s such a thing.”
“Oh, there is,” she assured him with a purr, and her nails lightly dragged over the muscles above his wrist. “There most definitely is.”
“We should go. Otherwise, we may not make it.” He meant it jokingly, or maybe warningly, but her eyes lit up.
“I’m down for that.”
His body threw its full support behind the idea as well, but his brain, not to mention his heart, wasn’t ready, yet. He stepped back, giving her space.
She chewed her lip, gaze darting between his eyes and over his shoulder, unable to settle.
“I love kissing you, and if you don’t want anything more, I can be happy, but...” she paused, swallowed, then rushed on. “If you did—want more, that is—I’d be open to it.”
She had so much courage. They hadn’t discussed it, but she’d clearly picked up on his hesitation, and she hadn’t pushed, but she made her wishes clear and also respected his boundaries.
His own cowardice mocked him in the face of her bravery. He should have had this conversation with her already, and how could he do anything other than be honest after her speech? Vulnerability called out vulnerability, and hers demanded his.
He cleared his throat. “It isn’t you. Believe me. I’m not... I can’t... My leg...” He owed her an explanation, but he had no idea how to put his insecurities into words.
“I understand.” She closed the distance between them, resting her hands on his chest, and gazed up at him. “When you’re ready, then. But, for what it’s worth, it doesn’t matter to me. I love you. All of you. No matter what.”
He crushed her to him, gratified, again, that the strength of his embrace had improved so much. He’d longed for the words she’d whispered to Nix weeks ago to be said to him. Now, they had.
“I love you, too.”
She twined her fingers in his. “We should get going.”
She barely let go of his hand for the rest of the day. Though she’d clearly dressed for the pool, she ignored it when they arrived, embracing Abby and scratching behind Gen’s pointed black ears, an homage to the matriarchal hostess of the canine contingent.
Abby’s stepson, Dylan, waved, but the busy yellow lab at his side kept him too distracted to come say hi.
Scott hugged Jif, too, then shook Miles’s hand.
Miles would probably never get over the strange way their worlds collided in this small space. Had he somehow missed her at this very party last year? He doubted it, but when he asked, she shook her head.
“Jordan and I spent the Fourth of July in DC last year. We watched the fireworks over the Mall.”
“I’m counting on you to introduce Miles to the guys,” Scott said. “Colton’s around here somewhere, so he can help.”
Neither Jif nor Miles corrected Scott’s assumption he’d already met her brother.
The annual party had started as a low-key, get-to-know-you pre-season gathering for Scott and his receivers but had morphed over time into a Fourth of July bash including all of Scott and Abby’s friends and co-workers, seamlessly combining their football and therapy dog worlds.
If only Miles could believe he and Jif’s worlds could blend as easily.
“And you’ll have to do the same for Jif, Miles,” Abby added. “Jess will be here later, and Suri and Willow are by the kennel run. Bailey needed to bleed off some energy, and Gwyn is always down for a rough and tumble runabout.”
Miles shook his head. “Nix can’t keep up with that pair.”
“Neither can Rêve, though she desperately wants to.” Abby shot a thumbs-up at Dylan.
The lab at his feet pranced in place but held her position, no easy task with this many people and dogs in such close proximity.
“She’s lovely, but very distractible,” Abby explained. “She manages fine at the hospital, but this is a great chance to practice skills she doesn’t use very often.”
“You’re doing great, Dylan,” Jif called.
Miles wrapped Nix’s leash more firmly around his fist.
Despite her struggles, Rêve, under Dylan’s handling, put Nix to shame as the Dalmatian lunged after Gen, almost taking Miles with him.
His injury and long recovery had impacted Nix’s training, and he definitely needed to do more distraction work, especially around dogs.
And food. Neither would prevent him from doing his job, but Dalmatians had a tendency toward high energy and busyness.
Not getting enough exercise and not using his brain had taken a toll on Nix’s behavior.
“Come on,” Jif grabbed his hand and dragged him toward a pair of Adirondack chairs in the grass. “I want you to meet my friends.”
Miles trailed her across the yard, gently tugging Nix every few feet when something else caught his attention, until they reached the small group gathered around a gravel fire pit.
“Miles, this is Britt, and her boyfriend, Garrett.” She turned to the other man, and even before she introduced him, Miles recognized him.
The family resemblance, right down to the eye color and matching high cheekbones, never mind the t-shirt imprinted with Pritchard Scholarship Fund, told Miles exactly who stood, now, to meet him.
He held out a hand. “I’m Colton Pritchard. Jif’s brother.”
Miles wiped his palm on his pants before returning the gesture.
More than the suffocating, mid-afternoon heat dampened his skin.
Uncharacteristically nervous, Miles wasn’t worried whether Colton would like him, per se, but awareness beat in his consciousness.
If Colton didn’t accept him, it would make Jif’s already complex relationship with her brother even more difficult.
“Miles. Nice to meet you. And this is Nix.” He forced his voice to remain steady despite his concern.
Colton shot a long glance at Jif, then sat again.
Jif ignored her brother and flopped into a chair, pulling Miles down beside her.
He tucked Nix’s leash under his leg, far enough from Gen and Rêve that the dog had finally settled down, and said to Britt, “It’s nice to officially meet you.”
“You, too.”
Jif snapped her fingers. “I’d forgotten you met her the first time you picked me up for a date.”
“Not really,” Britt replied. “More like ‘waved in passing as you shoved a bouquet of sunflowers into my arms.’“
Jif winced theatrically. “I didn’t want to keep Miles waiting.”
The more time they spent together, the less she showed the false persona that so annoyed him, a front to protect her vulnerabilities from being shared. Miles might expect her to flash a photogenic smile at a gala event, but here, among her friends? Unease curled in his gut.
He’d stopped searching for photos after the incident with Donte and Corey.
She’d told him the truth when she could have hidden it; he owed her his trust for that alone, if nothing else, and as she’d revealed more of who she hid beneath her mask, he’d been less interested in the version she presented to others.
But he couldn’t help wondering if anyone knew the real Jif. Even himself.
Even her.
“I told Garrett how you two met, and he couldn’t believe you let Jif’s students paint your dog,” Britt said with a giggle as Miles tuned back into the conversation.
“He’s beautiful,” Garrett added. “Purebred?”
“Yes, but through a rescue. He had too many faults, and then he grew too big to show.” Miles ruffled the patch covering one of Nix’s ears and ran his hand down the dog’s spine, tapping the non-symmetrical splotch on his rear haunch.
“The owners dumped him off, but the shelter sent him to a family specializing in Dalmatians. I’d been watching for a while, hoping one would come through.
My job isn’t great for a puppy, but an already-housebroken yearling? I couldn’t adopt him fast enough.”
“What do you do?” Garrett asked.
The flash of a scowl crossed Colton’s face before he schooled his expression to neutrality.
Already on edge among Jif’s friends, Miles bit out, “I’m a firefighter. I had an... incident last fall, but I should be back in the next few weeks.”
Jif squeezed his hand. “Nix stays at the firehouse when he’s working, but since the accident, they’ve been doing therapy work with Abby.”
Scott’s wife and her work were familiar to everyone.
After marrying her, Scott had shifted nearly all his fundraising support to her burgeoning nonprofit, renovated their four-car garage into a climate-controlled kennel and training facility, and developed a partnership between the Raptors organization and the pediatric department at Providence Hospital.
He and Jif had probably both been at the ribbon cutting for the new treatment facility: her with the football contingent and him with Abby. He wasn’t ashamed the memorial video they’d shown of Liam Harper, for whom it had been named, had brought the sting of tears to even his eyes.
Britt leaned forward, petting Nix’s head. “Jif thinks Abby should start a school outreach program. Oh, sorry,” she sat back up. “Am I supposed to ask first? I am, aren’t I?”
Miles shook his head. “He’s not a service dog. You do have to ask for those, but for most therapy dogs, their whole purpose is to be pet, so they don’t mind.”
“Oh, good.” Britt reached down again, and Nix flopped on his side, presenting his belly for scratches.
Jif nudged the dog with her toe. “You’re so spoiled.”
Miles huffed. “Only because you spoil him.”
“I do,” she declared, unrepentant.
“And this is work?”
“Colton...” Jif scowled at her brother.
He held up his hands. “I’m just asking.”
Miles cleared his throat. “Not for him, no. Abby requires all her handlers take some psych classes: PTSD recovery, SEL, active listening, etcetera.”
“I think she’s partnered with the community college on a certificate course that’ll launch next year,” Jif added.
“Makes sense.” Garrett reached down and pet Nix, too, then took Britt’s hand, cradling it in his as he leaned back again. “If I could be guaranteed one as well-behaved as any of these, I’d think about getting a dog.”
“Oh, we should,” Britt breathed, shining eyes on Garrett.
Miles glanced at Jif to find a gentle expression on her face as she studied her best friend.
Few things could fully reassure Miles of Jif’s affections—he had more work to do before he’d be at ease trusting her with his heart—but her apparent happiness for Britt after her earlier jealousy helped soothe his disquiet.
Just then, Rêve raced between them, slaloming through the chair legs and gone again before Nix could even get on his feet.
In hot pursuit, Gen barreled after, followed by Dylan, chasing behind them and grabbing for Rêve’s leash.
With a giant splash, both dogs hit the water, swamping those in the loungers on the deck, and Dylan teetered on the edge for a moment before tipping in after them, fully clothed.
With a wry chuckle, Colton commented, “Well, maybe not quite like them.”
After a beat of silence, everyone burst out laughing.
Jif leaned back in her chair, fingers twined with Miles’s, and rubbed her toe against Nix’s ear until the big dog lay back down. “I think exactly like them.”