Chapter 6
Chapter Six
"Hmm, I don't know," Tori says thoughtfully. "Let me check my planner."
Liam watches as she reaches down and digs around in that giant purse of hers. Eventually she pulls out a decorative spiral-bound notebook and places it on her lap. He recognizes it from that day at the vet’s office.
Miss Fancy Pants sniffs the corner.
"Let's see," Tori murmurs, opening it up. It's some kind of scheduler, but he's never seen anything like it. Every page is covered with bright stickers. "Today's Wednesday. I'm busy tomorrow, but I could come over at noon on Friday. Will that work?"
"Okay," he agrees readily. He can't believe he's willing to pay for this, and what's worse is he suspects he's only doing it so he can see her again.
The pen in her hand is pink, and he watches as she writes "Miss Fancy Pants" in her book with round cursive letters. She doesn't write his name at all. She's wearing glittery pink nail polish that matches her T-shirt, which has butterflies on it and the logo for the eighties band Heart.
Despite her insults, he's spent the past hour drowning in her sex appeal.
She's kooky like she was in high school—kookier even—and it's working for him in a big way.
Except he knows from experience that Tori Church is trouble.
In fact, he's certain this dog sitting is a bad idea.
"Do you think you'll walk her when you come Friday?" he asks.
Both Tori and Miss Fancy Pants look at him like they're already a unit. "I don't know. Does that matter?"
He gazes at her pretty face. At her blue eyes. He tries to fight this attraction.
"I guess not," he mutters.
So I'm paying a dog sitter who's not even going to walk the dog?
"I might in the future," she tells him in a considering tone. "Let's see how Miss Fancy Pants feels about it, okay? We want her to be comfortable with me."
He only nods. As far as he can tell, the dog seems plenty comfortable already.
Tori puts the notebook back in her purse and pets Miss Fancy Pants one last time before getting up from the couch. "I need to go now. I have more work this afternoon."
Both Liam and the dog follow her to the front door.
"Let me walk you to your car," he says.
She shifts the purse on her shoulder. Her honey-blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail like last time. "You don't have to." But then she stops and gazes down with a smile. "Actually, how about you both walk me to my car?"
He glances down at the furball, who seems to be loving this idea.
"I suppose." He only began walking the dog recently, after she started pissing everywhere. He couldn't figure out why she didn't use the dog door and do her business in the backyard like she used to.
He reaches past Tori to get the leash from where Rachel always kept it on a hook. His face is only inches from her hair, and he inhales the scent of tangerines.
Luscious and sweet.
He doesn't know if it's her perfume or shampoo, but she smells like a summer day. Except that smell is having a strong effect on his body. His muscles tighten all over. A flood of desire erupts in him, and with horror, he realizes he's getting aroused.
By tangerines?
He hasn't had to deal with awkward boners since high school, yet here he is, hard as a baseball bat.
He grabs the leash and crouches down to put it on the dog, trying to get away from Tori. He goes over statistics from his favorite players and teams, straining to remember unusual stats, anything to divert his blood flow.
"Are you having trouble with the leash?" she asks. She bends over to assist him, which is the last thing he wants.
" No ." His voice comes out louder and rougher than he intends. "I've got it."
"Fine. Whatever.” She straightens up.
Eventually he attaches it to the dog’s collar and stands, holding his arm in front of his crotch area. Luckily, Tori isn't looking downward. "You go ahead," he tells her. "We'll follow you outside."
She shrugs and opens the door. Miss Fancy Pants trots after her with Liam bringing up the rear holding the leash.
As they walk along the sidewalk, he tries not to notice Tori's ass and the way it's filling out her jeans. There's a sexy sway to her hips that he remembers from the good old days. He used to have dreams about it, dreams where he woke up sweaty and distressed. A teenager in the throes of his first real crush.
He takes a deep breath and forces himself to look out at his tidy neighborhood. Upward at the cloudless blue sky.
Anywhere but at Tori's tantalizing hips and ass.
As she leads them farther along the sidewalk, he manages to gain some control over himself.
By the time they walk up to a silver four-door Honda, he's mostly feeling like his normal self, though he doubts he'll ever feel normal around Tori.
"This is me," she says. "Blair loaned me her car."
He blinks a few times, and it dawns on him that he forgot to ask about her stolen vehicle. He's been too distracted by her charms. "They haven't found your minivan yet?"
Tori sighs, digging through her purse. "No, Mable is still missing. It's very upsetting."
"Have you spoken to the police?"
"I called last week, but they said they'd let me know if they find her."
He nods and makes a mental note to contact the detectives working her case himself.
Tori pulls out her keys, then bends over to pet Miss Fancy Pants again. "And I'll see you on Friday," she says in a cooing voice.
Liam stands there stiffly. "So you're headed back to the animal hospital now?"
"Not today. I have my own web design business. I'm working for one of my clients this afternoon. I also have to cook a batch of dog snacks for Happy Pet Nanny."
His brows rise. "You have another business besides the dog sitting?"
"Yes, I create and maintain websites."
He takes this in and has to admit he's surprised. He didn't picture her being so industrious. "And what about the animal hospital? "
She opens the passenger side of the car and tosses her large purse inside. "Oh, I only work there part-time."
"How many jobs do you have?"
She pauses. "Four."
"You have four jobs?" He's starting to understand why she relies on that scheduling book so much.
"The fourth one is my brother. He put me on his payroll for the health insurance. He offers his employees great benefits."
She works for Road? He can't imagine what that guy does for a living and is afraid to ask.
"Well, I'd better get going."
He has more questions, but she's already getting into her car. Before he knows it, she's started the engine and is pulling away from the curb, waving goodbye to Miss Fancy Pants. She ignores him completely.
He and the dog remain on the sidewalk until Tori's car turns left and disappears out of his neighborhood.
Miss Fancy Pants makes a sighing noise.
"I know," he murmurs. "For once we're in agreement."
They trod back to the house together, making a pit stop so Miss Fancy Pants can relieve her bladder. He checks his phone. There's a text from one of his squad members about a case they've been working on together, a bank manager who's embezzling funds from his own bank. He also has a meeting with a prosecutor from the U.S. Attorney's Office about Yates this afternoon.
As he's entering the front door, his phone rings. A Seattle number he doesn't recognize shows on the caller ID. "Castillo."
“Is this Liam?" It’s a female’s voice.
"Yes it is."
“Hi, this is Shelby. Amy gave me your number. I hope it's okay I'm calling."
For some reason, he was hoping it was Tori. "Who is this?"
"I'm a friend of Amy's."
He thinks back and remembers the blind date Matt's wife wanted to set him up on. Amy texted him Shelby's number last week, but he’d been so busy with work and dealing with this dog, he'd forgotten all about it.
"Yes, of course." He unclasps the leash and hangs it by the door again. "I meant to get in touch with you. I'm glad you called."
"Oh, good." She sounds relieved. "I didn't want to seem too forward, but then I thought what the heck." She laughs self-consciously, and he decides she sounds nice.
They talk as he goes into the kitchen. He fills a tortilla with chili and vegetables from last night, then heats it in the toaster oven. Shelby explains how she works with Amy in the accounting department for an insurance company, and that she started running marathons after her divorce to keep busy.
"I was thinking," she says. "Instead of the usual blind date of coffee or dinner, how about we go for a run together? Amy told me you used to be a professional athlete and that you still stay in shape."
Liam takes a bite of his tortilla wrap and considers this. He runs regularly and figures Shelby's right—it would be an easy first date. "Sure, that sounds great."
They make plans to meet after work tonight at one of the local trails.
After they hang up, he goes into the bedroom. In truth, he wasn't that enthusiastic about a blind date, but he's glad now she called. He needs to get out more, to stop sitting home every night.
He reaches for his gun and holster, which are still on the nightstand, and slips them over his shoulders.
Rachel's been gone over a month, and he hasn't heard a single word from her, not even to check on her dog. He knows she arrived safely in Buenos Aires because her sisters told him. The impression he got from them was how happy Rachel and Dr. Adrenaline Junkie were together, the two of them BASE jumping and zip-lining to their hearts’ content.
While Rachel may have thought he was boring and that catching bad guys who wore business suits was dull, he knew the truth. Catching criminals who embezzled millions or scammed people out of their life savings was plenty satisfying, and all the excitement he wanted in life.
But then Tori flickers through his mind. The way she looked sitting on his couch. That sexy sway when she walked outside.
He closes his eyes and pushes thoughts of her away.
Maybe not all the excitement.
"Gosh, you're in great shape," Shelby says when they stop for a breather at a coffee place near the Burke-Gilman Trail.
Liam cracks open a bottle of water. "So are you."
"Thank you." She smiles. "I never thought I could be this athletic. I had to keep busy after my divorce though."
"How long were you married?"
"Eight years. One day he wakes up and tells me he isn't in love with me anymore. Can you believe that?"
Liam takes a drink from his water and then shakes his head. "I'm sorry. That's rough."
"It was at first." She shrugs and opens her own bottle. "But now I think it's the best thing that could have happened to me."
He nods. "I went through something similar recently."
"Yes, Amy told me you ended a relationship not long ago."
"Not a marriage, but we lived together for two years." He glances around the area. There are other people out, some of them jogging, a few on bikes. He and Shelby have been running a part of the trail that goes near the water. The sky is blue while the sun shines a citrus yellow.
The color makes him think of Tori. Unfortunately, she's been sneaking into his thoughts all afternoon.
"I'm sorry," Shelby says. "I know how hard it is when a relationship ends, especially after you've put so much time and effort into it." She talks about her marriage and divorce, how it took her a long time to start dating again.
Liam tries to listen, but his mind keeps going back to earlier. To how Tori smelled like tangerines, and how he got turned on by it. It was odd.
It must have been pheromones affecting him so strongly.
"In the end, sometimes two people aren't meant to be together," Shelby says. "Don't you agree?"
"Yes," he says definitively, putting the cap back on his water bottle. "I agree 100 percent."
Like him and Tori Church. Not meant to be. Ever.
Shelby smiles, and Liam realizes he needs to focus more on his date. The fact is, she seems great in every way. Attractive, with brown hair and green eyes. An athletic body.
Most important of all, he can tell she's not odd or kooky. No craziness at all.
"Amy told me you played baseball in college and then went on to the majors," Shelby says. "I should warn you, I'm a huge baseball fan."
"Are you?"
"I am. In fact, I have a little confession to make." Her expression turns sheepish. "When Amy told me your name and that you played pro ball, I sort of looked you up online."
"What did you find?"
"Well, you went to Portland and played college ball. After that you played in the minors but didn't finish the season because you were picked up by San Diego. You were their catcher for three years, until you were forced to quit." She meets his eyes. "I'm sorry about your knees."
Liam nods. He's gotten used to the apologies from people over the years.
"That had to be rough. You had a .330 batting average and the fewest errors of any catcher your third season. You were in your prime." Her expression turns sympathetic. "I can't even imagine how difficult it was to walk away."
He shrugs. He's had this conversation a lot too. "If I hadn't walked away, I wouldn't have been able to join the bureau." He consulted a few doctors back then, and they all told him the same thing: he could get a few more seasons out of his knees and risk damaging them permanently, or he could stop playing altogether. He didn't want to risk permanent damage, and more importantly, he didn't want to risk not joining the FBI. "Being a federal agent is what I've always wanted to do."
"But it must have been terrible to give up a professional baseball career."
"I know how lucky I was to have had that experience, but in the end, this is where I want to be."
She nods but is still wearing a look of sympathy. "Good for you, then."
He tries not to get irritated. While it was a rush playing ball, he loves being an agent. Catching criminals is far more satisfying than catching baseballs.
She leans toward him. "Amy sometimes tells me about Matt's work, and it sounds exciting."
He knows he should be feeling some kind of chemistry right now. It's obvious Shelby is a nice, normal woman. The kind he should be involved with. The kind a man builds a life with.
While he might not feel a spark right now, he figures he needs to give it more time. He decides right then to make a real effort with her.
He leans closer. "This has been fun. Would you like to do it again?"
Later that evening, once he's back home settled on his end of the lumpy sofa, he reflects on his date.
"I think you'd like her," he tells the furball, before biting into a piece of roasted chicken he picked up from a takeout place on the way home. "Shelby is exactly the kind of woman you and I both need in our lives."
The dog seems to eye him with skepticism as she holds the drumstick he gave her between her front paws.
"Trust me. She's nice and stable. No chance she's running off to South America."
Miss Fancy Pants chews on the bone from her chicken leg.
He put out dry dog food when he got home, but as usual she wanted nothing to do with it.
"I hate to break it to you," he says, "but Rachel isn't worth mooning over. She's selfish and always has been."
Leaning back on the couch, he wonders if he should have kissed Shelby after their run. Was she expecting that? It hadn't even occurred to him.
When he and Rachel had their first date, it was dinner and a movie. They made it halfway through the film before she insisted he take her home. At first he thought he'd done something wrong, but to his surprise, she pulled him into her apartment, led him straight to her bedroom, and proceeded to jump his bones all night.
Impulsive as always. Not that he complained at the time. They had good chemistry back in those days. Back when he was still flavor of the month.
It wasn't long afterward that she moved in. Later on he found out she’d had a boyfriend when they met, whom she dumped for Liam. He wasn't happy to learn that. In fact, they had a big fight about it.
As he's reminiscing over all this, Miss Fancy Pants stands up and coughs.
Liam turns toward her. "Hey, what's up? You okay?"
The dog coughs again, then again, wheezing between coughs.
Quickly, he shoves his plate aside and moves next to her.
She coughs some more.
He starts to panic. If she were a person, he'd give her the Heimlich, but he doesn't know what to do in this case. "That's right," he encourages her. "Go ahead and get it out. "
She coughs and paws her face.
Just as he's ready to grab her and shake her upside down, she coughs loudly and finally seems to clear the blockage, bringing up the entire contents of her stomach with it.
"Good girl." He pats her on the back with relief. She licks her mouth a few times and looks over at him. "Damn, Fancy, you scared the hell out of me. Everything okay now?"
The dog yawns and licks her mouth once more, but thankfully, as far as he can tell, she seems fine.
He pets her, then removes the partially chewed-up bone along with the rest of the chicken meat and throws it in the trash.
As he gets cleaning supplies from the kitchen, he goes over what happened and, with frustration, realizes he doesn't know enough about dogs.
He finds Tori's number and, when her voicemail picks up, leaves a short but detailed message. She works at a vet's office, so she must know how to handle this kind of thing.
Just as he's done cleaning up the dog vomit, including wiping Fancy's face with a wet cloth, his phone rings.
"Are you crazy?" a familiar female voice rants. "You can't give a dog cooked bones! They'll splinter. Don't you know anything?"
"I thought bones were good for dogs."
"Not cooked. They have to be raw, and not just any old bone either." Tori seems to be trying to calm herself. "How is Miss Fancy Pants doing now? Is she okay?"
Liam glances over at the dog. She's perched on the edge of the couch like she’s the Queen of Sheba, watching him. He's still sitting on the floor with all the cleaning supplies. He reaches up to pet her again, deciding not to tell Tori how panicked he'd gotten. "She seems fine now."
"Good. You have to careful with the kind of human food you feed her. There's a lot of stuff dogs can't eat."
"Really? I figured they could eat anything. I mean, wild dogs are scavengers."
He can almost hear Tori rolling her eyes. "Domesticated dogs are not wild dogs. Have you gone on my website yet?"
"No."
He hears another eye roll in progress. "Please go on my website and educate yourself. And please don't feed her anything until you're sure it's safe. I have a list on there you can check."
"She doesn't seem to like the dry dog food. She'll eat it in the mornings but not at night."
"Well, then get her some wet food for dinner. Dogs are like people in that some don't mind eating the same thing all the time while others prefer variety."
He takes this in. The furball is studying him, and he suspects she knows he's speaking to Tori about her.
"How do you handle it if a dog chokes?" he asks. "Is there a version of the Heimlich maneuver?"
"Yes, there is. If you’d like, I'll teach it to you."
"That would be great, thanks." Normally he could handle himself in any emergency, and he doesn’t want a repeat of what just happened.
There's some kind of loud noise in the background, like a guy's voice yelling. Tori sighs. "I'd better go."
"Is everything okay?"
"It's fine."
There's more yelling, this time a woman, and Liam grows concerned. "Who is that?"
"My mom. Like I said, I have to go. I'll see you Friday at noon."
"Hey, wait a minute." He wants to find out more, but the phone is silent. Tori's already hung up. He's tempted to call her back but knows she'll only tell him to mind his own business.
He glances over at the dog. "All right, let’s go look at that website."