Leader of the Pack (The Dogfather Book 3) Page 13

  He glared at her, ignoring Dad, who chuckled as he got Zelda down from the table.

  Tilting her head, Molly wouldn’t let up. “Yep. Broken and bruised. But there’s hope, big brother.”

  He inched away from her, snapping his fingers to the dogs. “Fritz. Zelda. Let’s hit the training pen.”

  Fritz trotted over, head high, tail swinging, ready for anything and everything. Zelda, on the other hand, took one tentative step, then stared at him like she wasn’t sure of anything and everything.

  A perfect metaphor for the couple he was now part of, like it or not.

  Chapter Twelve

  Andi’s plan for the day was clear and simple: work. She would review and revise the blueprints Jane Gruen wanted drawn up for the Bitter Bark Bed & Breakfast addition, then start the prelim sketches for Helen and Ben McAfee’s guesthouse, and then she had promised her boss that she’d go over a proposal he was doing for a new shopping center in Raleigh.

  With this agenda formed in her head and Christian safely ensconced at school, Andi headed toward the luscious scents of the Bitter Bark Bakery, located on the first floor of her two-story office building.

  She loved the bright and airy office space she shared with Becca, her assistant, and the intern they currently had from the college, but the primo location did mean she worked with the ever-present scent of temptation in the air. Yes, she could enter her office by way of a small door on the street that led to a narrow staircase, never having to set foot in the bakery. But then she wouldn’t get her croissant fix or a chance to chat with Linda May, the owner and her friend.

  Plus, today’s special was raspberry croissants, and after the sleepless night she had, some sugar was definitely in order.

  The bell rang as she stepped inside the sun-washed store, assaulted by a glorious whiff of butter and coffee, along with the chatter of locals and tourists sitting at the dozen or so tables and along quartz countertops that lined the windows.

  Andi waved to some people she knew and absently pulled out her phone while she waited behind a man at the counter.

  “Hey, Andi,” Linda May called from the other side, carefully putting a blueberry muffin into a baker’s box. “Heard you got a dog.”

  Wow, news traveled fast in Bitter Bark. “For the moment. How’d you hear that, anyway?”

  “Cathy Burke said she saw you and Christian playing in the square yesterday with a big, bad dog.” She grinned, her gray-blue eyes crinkling playfully. “And a German shepherd.”

  All kinds of news. “Very funny, Linda May.”

  The man in front of her gave a cursory glance over his shoulder, but Andi looked at her phone, feeling a slow heat rise.

  If she was really getting married Saturday night, wouldn’t she be telling Linda May? She’d become good friends with the woman and had held her close when her beloved Michael died two years ago. Widowed at sixty, she was another strong, independent woman who ran her own business, and they had much in common.

  Wouldn’t she invite Linda May to the wedding? A lead weight dropped in Andi’s stomach. What was she doing, anyway? Asking drama and trouble into her life, that’s what.

  Because she was trying to avoid worse drama and trouble, she reminded herself.

  “Uh, go ahead,” the man in front of her said, stepping aside. “I can’t decide between chocolate or raspberry.”

  “Raspberry,” Andi said, finally looking up. “No one in their right mind says no to a Linda May Dunlap raspberry croissant. Trust me on this.”

  He smiled at her, a flirty gleam in dark eyes from a man who was probably in his thirties, with decent features and dressed in a sharp suit. On another day, in another frame of mind, when she wasn’t about to be married, Andi might have even enjoyed the conversation and then laughed about it with Linda May after he left.

  “Raspberry it is, and make it two, Linda May.”

  “They’re filling,” Andi warned.

  “One’s for you.”

  She blinked at him, taken back. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary.”

  His smile widened, showing straight white teeth. “No one says no to a Linda May Dunlap raspberry croissant,” he teased.

  “Well, I…” She closed her eyes and chose an easy answer. “Thank you.”

  She glanced at Linda May, whose neatly drawn brow was raised in amusement and curiosity. How would that expression change when Andi came in here on Monday and casually mentioned she’d married Liam Kilcannon over the weekend? More guilt twisted.

  Linda May put the bag on the counter and two empty coffee cups for them to fill from the station on the side. “Coffee’s on the house today,” she said with a wink. “And there’s an empty table by the window.”

  The comment didn’t surprise Andi, considering how long and hard Linda May had lobbied for Andi to start dating after Jeff died. And there was no way to tell her friend, or this stranger, that she was getting married on Saturday without an avalanche of disbelieving questions.

  And any one of the people in the bakery right now could have been hired by Nora Scott to watch Andi’s every move. So now they’d be able to say she was having coffee with handsome men she met in line five days before she got married and did that make her an unfit mother, so—

  The man chuckled softly. “I had no intention of causing a scowl, miss.” He angled his head and handed her the pastry wrapped in waxed paper, quite the gentleman. “Thanks for the recommendation.”

  He stepped away and headed out the door, the bell barely covering Linda May’s audible groan.

  “What the heck is wrong with you, Andrea Rivers?”

  “Nothing, I…” She swallowed, knowing that if the plan was going to work, she had to commit to it. She couldn’t let anyone, not even a friend like this, know these unannounced, unexpected nuptials weren’t real. Plus, Linda May would start the whisper campaign, and the news would be all over Bitter Bark in no time. So, what better way to test her acting skills than right here and right now?

  She leaned over the counter, checking to be sure no one was waiting behind her. She took a breath and prepared to look a dear friend in the eye and lie. “Um, Linda May. I have to tell you something.”

  The other woman’s eyes brightened. “Oooh, gimme some good gossip, Andi. The grapevine’s been dry since the funeral director and spa owner came out in the open with their romance. Whatcha got?”

  “I’ve got…news.” A bald-faced lie dreamed up in a moment of insanity. “Big news.”

  “Tell!”

  She stared at Linda May, the words forming in her head but absolutely refusing to come out. Just…no. She didn’t have it in her to lie, so couldn’t she tell the truth? Which demanded more time than she had during the bakery’s breakfast rush. “I’ll come down after lunch when you have a break.”

  “What? After that buildup?” Linda May’s eyes flashed in mock humor, but the door dinged with new customers who saved the day. “After that, you better be telling me you’re headed down the aisle yourself, woman.”

  She swayed a little at the accidental prophecy and covered by stepping aside to make room at the counter. “I’ll be back at lunch.”

  Outside, Andi gulped some air and instantly changed her morning agenda. She had to call this off. She wasn’t capable of lying.

  Turning to the small glass door that led up to her office, she tucked the croissant under her chin so she could open her bag and get the keys.

  “Would you like me to hold the door or the pastry?”

  She gasped at the sound of a man’s voice, only a little surprised it was the flirty croissant buyer. “Uh, no. Thanks. Buying it was enough.” She closed her fingers around the keys, sort of wishing she could have told her lie to Linda May, which would have warned him off. She didn’t like the idea of a man lingering outside her office for no good reason.

  He could be working for Nora Scott.

  She unlocked the door and pulled it, but he held it for her, his arm over her head.

  “Thank you,”
she said, giving him a pointed look. “I’m going to work now.”

  “I know.” He nodded for her to go into the hallway. “I have a meeting with you, Miss Rivers.”

  Freezing, she frowned and mentally scanned the agenda she’d made. Her calendar had been completely clear this morning. “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “I just made it with Becca, your assistant. I’ll walk up with you.”

  “Who are you?” she demanded, any hint of warmth gone as she refused to walk into this tiny hallway and up these stairs with a stranger who claimed to know her. He could be anyone. He could be Mr. Nora Scott, for all she knew.

  “My name is Jason Leff, and I represent the estate of Nadine Marie Scott. She’s left your son a considerable sum of money in a trust fund, and I am here to deliver the specifics and stipulations for that fund.”

  Nadine’s lawyer? Shane told her this would probably happen next—if Nora was telling the truth about the will. “Oh, wow, yes. I need to talk to you.”

  “Why don’t you go up to your office, chat with your assistant to make sure I’m who I say I am, have your croissant, and I’ll come up in ten minutes? Would that make you more comfortable?”

  Yes. But was it the right thing to do? His previous words played in her mind. The specifics and stipulations. “What are the stipulations?”

  “Very simple, really, and they are all spelled out in a document I have. Would you like to see it? Review it before we talk?”

  That seemed reasonable. “Yes, please.”

  He reached into his bag and pulled out a legal-sized packet of paper. “Take a moment and read this, then I can answer any questions you have. All right?”

  Despite how considerate he was being, a low-grade anxiety fluttered in her belly, making her fingers shake as she took the document with a hand still holding the wrapped pastry. “That’s fine. Thank you. I’ll be upstairs.”

  “Take all the time you like.” He pulled the door open for her and let her go inside alone, the door closing behind Andi with a soft thud. Becca would have to buzz him in now.

  Feeling safer but still so uncertain, she hustled up the stairs, stopping at the landing to lean against the wall, out of sight from the man downstairs. Unable to control her curiosity, she set everything on the stairs but the envelope, ripping it open to scan a sea of legalese, finally focusing on a list of trust endowment stipulations.

  Christian Rivers’s name must legally be changed to Christian Scott.

  Christian Rivers must reside (with his legal guardian) in the city of Charlottesville, Virginia, at the home of Nadine Scott.

  Christian Rivers can never be legally adopted by any father, regardless of the marital status of his legal guardian.

  If those stipulations are met, Christian Rivers will receive the amount of six million dollars upon his twenty-first birthday. If not, the money will be donated to the Scott Foundation.

  She leaned against the wall, slid to the step, and dropped her head into her hands with a sigh of utter defeat. She didn’t know what upset her more, the stipulations or the fact that it said legal guardian and not parent.

  Legal guardian…like the aunt who took custody after proving the mother was unfit.

  Rage mixed with fear in her gut, burning. And suddenly, Andi realized she was most definitely capable of lying. In fact, she’d lie, steal, kill, or marry a man for show if she had to, because no one was taking Christian away from her, giving him another name, limiting any opportunities, or donating his inheritance without his approval.

  No one, no matter what it cost her.

  * * *

  “I broke the news to Linda May Dunlap today.”

  Liam took his gaze off Jag and Christian for a moment to make sure he’d heard Andi right. “The baker?” He shook his head. “Our news?”

  She gave him a tight smile and nodded, looking around the square for a second, then reached for his hand. “You know any other news?”

  “Look, Mommy, I’m gonna throw it!”

  Andi turned to witness another pretty sad Frisbee toss, but Liam couldn’t take his eyes off her. She actually seemed into this. Ever since she’d come home from school with Christian and he’d been waiting in the house with Jag, as they’d planned when she’d given him a spare key today, Andi was different.

  A little tense, a little forced, and not exactly the happy woman she usually was around her son, but she was definitely focused on them.

  First, she very publicly hugged him on the street, then suggested the three of them walk all the way up Bushrod Avenue—holding hands—to get ice cream, and then they’d come to Jag’s favorite place in the square to let Christian throw him the Frisbee and practice commands.

  And now he learned she’d told a woman notorious for passing news along.

  “Try holding it like Liam showed you,” she called to Christian, then turned to him, putting her hand above her brows to block the sun and see him better. “Why do you look so surprised? Isn’t that the whole idea? Telling people and making it real?”

  “Look real,” he reminded her.

  She lifted their joined hands and pressed his knuckles to her lips. “Bushrod Square is crowded,” she said softly.

  In other words, this was all for an audience. Which he knew, of course. But that didn’t make the affection any less bittersweet.

  “He can’t catch it.” Christian’s whine of disappointment stole their attention, but not enough for Andi to let go of Liam’s hand.

  “Let’s go help him,” she suggested, tugging him in the direction of the child. When he came along, she let go of his hand and slid her whole arm around his waist, gazing up with the look of…well, maybe not love, but the woman sure could act.

  What could he do but act with her? She didn’t have to know it wasn’t an act for him. He slowed them down and wrapped his arm around her, too, pulling her into his side. It felt good and right and sweet to have her there.

  “So what did Linda May say?”

  “Well, I’m surprised you didn’t hear the squeal all the way out at Waterford.” She didn’t laugh or even smile, but looked a little regretful.

  “It’s never fun to lie, Andi.”

  “But a necessary evil. Oh, and I invited her.”

  “To the…party?”

  She sighed as if that invitation had caused agony. Or maybe it was his reluctance to say the word wedding. “There wasn’t any way I couldn’t,” she said.

  “Show me again, Liam.” Christian shoved the Frisbee at Liam, his other hand on Jag’s head, where it usually was when they were together.

  “I will, but I want you to see something first,” he said. “Look at Jag.”

  He did, meeting the dog’s intense gaze. After a second, Christian grinned and gave a goofy little wave. “Hi, Jaggerman.” Then his face grew serious. “Oh, I’m probably not supposed to use my ‘best friend name’ for him or he won’t follow orders. I call him Jaggerman. Is that okay?”

  Liam laughed, shaking his head. “Christian, you are a natural at this. And you’re right about his name when giving orders, but it’s okay to call him anything you want during playtime. It’s important he knows the difference between play and work. Right now, he’s off the clock and having fun. But that’s not what I wanted to show you.”

  Christian waved the Frisbee impatiently. “How to throw this right?”

  “Yes, and…” He pointed to Jag. “Where is he looking right now?”

  “At me?”

  “Yes.”

  Christian beamed as the realization hit. “He’s not distracted! That’s good, isn’t it, Liam?” He turned his very serious face to Andi. “He has a problem with distractions.” Liam could hear his own voice echoed in the statement, including the inflections.

  An unexpected jolt of happiness hit him, but maybe that was because Andi laughed and it might have been the first time he’d heard that all afternoon.

  “But he’s looking at you,” Liam said. “Not me. That is what we call a breakthrou
gh.”

  His blue eyes grew with surprise. “Break through what?”

  Andi laughed again. “A breakthrough moment,” she explained. “It means you took something to a new level.”

  He still looked confused. “Like on Mario Party when you get to the next level?”

  “Kind of,” Liam said. “You and Jag got to the next level in training. He’s looking at you before me.”

  “Because he’s my best friend!” Christian folded over Jag’s head, wrapping his arms around the big dog’s neck and getting a rare lick of affection.

  “I think he is,” Liam said.

  Christian’s head popped up. “Then can you—”

  “If you say the secret code word, I’m going to throw this Frisbee so far and you’ll have to race Jag to it.”

  “Secret code word!” he screamed on a boyish chortle, and Liam instantly took the disk, aimed for an open area, and flipped it at exactly the right speed for Jag to bolt after it and snag it in his mouth. Christian ran, too, far behind the dog, sliding on the grass with a squeal of laughter that made Jag go to the child first before returning the Frisbee.

  “Damn,” Liam whispered under his breath.

  “What? Did he do something wrong?”

  “No. Jag went to him instead of me.”

  “Breakthrough?”

  He nodded slowly, watching the two of them tussle on the ground, noting that Jag was both playful and protective. He had another kick of a reaction to that, but he couldn’t discern what he was feeling.

  “I think I’m jealous,” he mused.

  Andi laughed softly. “Because Jag’s got a new master?”

  “Yeah.” He looked at her, a frown tugging. “I’ve never felt that when I gave up a dog to a new owner before.”

  “Jag’s special.”

  “He is, no doubt about it, but…” He watched as Jag let Christian have the Frisbee clutched in his teeth, and Christian jumped up to throw it. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “This is different.”