Kira took her hand off the dog’s ear and resumed babbling to it in baby talk for a few deeply painful moments.
Charlotte, who was clicking and cooing like a grandma meeting her grandbaby for the first time, scratched the puppy’s ears. “Oh, the poor little dear. You don’t worry about a thing, Sugar Pie. You’re going to fit in just fine around here.” In her obvious excitement, the puppy let out a small squeak and then lowered her head as if expecting dire consequences as a result of the small, escaped noise. She looked at us, her eyes raised dismally, her head still lowered.
“Whoa, whoa, around here?” I asked. “No. The last thing I need is an animal running around, getting in my way. I don’t have the time for a pet.”
“I rescued Sugar Pie for you. She’s yours. Consider her, um, my wedding gift. And a thank you for your kindness this weekend.” She thrust the dog at me, forcing me to take it from her.
I tried to hand it back. “What? No way. No. I don’t want a dog. Where’s my money?”
Kira crossed her arms and Charlotte tsked. I brought the dog back to my chest and looked down at it, those large, dark eyes trained on me with a mix of fear and hope. It was very ugly. But also, kind of…cute. I felt a strange stirring in the region of my heart as I remembered another pair of trusting brown eyes. Oh Jesus. Kira had gone and gotten me a puppy after the story I’d told her about my father. Irritating little witch. Sweet, compassionate, irritating little witch.
It had been a kind thought. Still… “Kira, I can’t have a dog named Sugar Pie. No man owns a dog named Sugar Pie.”
“Oh.” She put one finger up on her lips. “Well, that’s what I named her, and she seems to be attached to it. Her full name is Sugar Pie Honey Bunches.” She was holding back a barely suppressed smile. This amused the little witch.
I considered the animal again and let out a long sigh. Despite her deformity and her unacceptable name, I couldn’t bring myself to send her away now that she was in my arms, looking at me with such raw hope. I did have a large property. She could run around—I’d probably never even see her. Although at the very least, she’d need to be trained not to eat the grapes, as they could be dangerous to dogs. I set her on the ground. She stood stock-still, staring at me. “She’s still a puppy, and you just got her today. She can learn a new name.” I backed up. “Come here, Scout.” She tilted that ugly head, sitting down squarely on her butt.
Kira moved back too. “Come here, Sugar Pie,” she called. The dog scampered over to her immediately, its overly large paws clicking on the floor. Kira scooped her up and started cooing to her in that same highly irritating baby voice.
“Come here, Sugar Pie,” I called experimentally. Kira put her down on the ground and the puppy scampered over to me, squeaking again and then lowering her head in that scared, bashful way. I scooped her up and looked her in her eyes. “First off, you’re allowed to talk around here.” She regarded me with those expressive eyes as if she understood what I was saying. She licked my cheek tentatively. I looked up at Kira and Charlotte who were both grinning broadly. “Fine, she can stay,” I grumbled, clenching my jaw and turning around with my new puppy and heading for the door. What the hell was happening to my life? “I’m going to show her the house and get her used to a new name,” I called as I left the kitchen.
Happy feminine laughter followed me up the stairs, a sound I suddenly realized I’d never heard so often in this house…before Kira had come along.
* * *
The next morning, bright and early, Kira and I headed downtown to pick up the check that had been the catalyst and reason for this whole marriage. Mr. Hartmann handed it over and wished us happiness and good luck, and not ten minutes after we’d entered the building, we were back out on the street, staring at each other as if in shock. I grinned at Kira and said, “Let’s go open a bank account.”
As we headed to a different bank down the street, we walked past the one where Kira had first seen me. Kira might have good memories of that particular bank, but I couldn’t stomach opening an account at the place that had rejected my loan request—whether their rejection had been justified or not. Still, I thought about the last time I’d been there, how hopeless and low I’d felt. I grabbed Kira’s hand and gave it a squeeze. She grinned over at me, her dimple popping out. A lock of her fiery hair fell in front of one eye, and I couldn’t help myself. I stopped and walked her backward toward a building and pressed her against the wall, giving her a quick, hard kiss, and then grinning at her surprised expression.
“Get a room,” someone walking by mumbled. Kira looked briefly shocked, and I gave her my best devilish grin, raising my eyebrows.
“No,” she said resolutely, slipping out from under me. But she glanced back, a teasing smile on her face. My heart flipped in some unfamiliar way and I laughed, walking quickly to catch up. I felt…new. Hopeful. Like the world had just opened up and I wanted to spread my arms wide and welcome it.
An hour later, we had separate accounts, each containing almost half a million dollars. That hopeful feeling was still there, but as we drove back to the vineyard, a nagging shame began pricking at the bubble I’d been floating in. Yes, we’d struck a deal but really? It was her money I was about to spend. “I’m going to pay you back. You know that, right?” I asked, my eyes meeting Kira’s.
“If you want,” she said, studying my face.
“I do.”
Kira was quiet for a minute and then her voice came out softly. “I need to go see my father today.”
Her expression was a mixture between sadness and something that looked like dejection. It surprised me—Kira’s eyes were normally so filled with vibrancy. It was as if the idea of seeing her father sucked the radiance right from her body. I felt like I should say something, but I had no idea what. “Okay,” I mumbled.
She looked at me as if she wanted to ask me something, but instead she just nodded, getting out of my truck when we pulled up in front of the house and calling behind her that she’d see me in a couple days.
I watched her walk away. She’d be gone for a couple days. It should have made me happy. I’d have some peace around here for forty-eight hours at least. I wouldn’t have to worry about an insurance risk romping all over my property, causing trouble and mayhem. And if she was out of sight, maybe my blood wouldn’t be constantly churning with need.
So why, instead of being glad about her impending departure, did I have this vague feeling of melancholy? I shook off my meandering thoughts and went to my office to put in the orders for supplies and equipment I’d had bookmarked for weeks now. At least that was something to be excited about. Everything was falling into place.
The dog padded into my office and lay down at my feet as I worked at the computer. Forty-five minutes later, when I’d placed all the orders, I stood up and called the ugly mutt from where she still lay under my desk. “Here, Buddy.” Nothing. She didn’t even lift her head.
I considered her for a moment. She was a girl, so perhaps she just wanted a name more fitting for a female. “Here, Bailey.” Not even a muscle twinge. I gritted my teeth. “Here, Sugar Pie,” I said under my breath. The dog’s ears perked up, and she let out an excited squeak and stood quickly, taking the few steps to where I stood. I pressed my lips together and gave her a bitter glare. She panted up at me, and I swore that crooked mouth was smiling.