A Weaver Holiday Homecoming Read online

  “The party,” she added, still panting. “Chloe’s waiting.”

  The reminder should have been as effective as a bucket of ice water in cooling him off. It did a piss-poor job, though.

  The puppy was still caterwauling from the kennel cage where Ryan had placed it in the completely empty dining room early that morning.

  Without looking at Mallory—because doing that would probably only exacerbate his dilemma—he went out to the dining room and opened the metal crate.

  The mutt leaped straight up into Ryan’s arms, shaking with sheer excitement, slathering anything he could reach with his sloppy wet tongue. He cradled the dog’s little round belly in his palm and carried him out the back door to the yard.

  The yard was small but, unlike Mallory’s place, it was fenced. He set the pup on his feet at the bottom of the porch stairs and he immediately tore off for the fence line. His small body would have been practically invisible in the snow if not for his chestnut markings.

  And even though he was focused on the dog, Ryan could have been deaf and blind and still known when Mallory came up behind him, because every cell in his body went on alert.

  Fortunately, she didn’t brush even a sleeve against him as she stepped around him onto the porch to watch the puppy’s antics as he popped in and out of the snow. “I suppose I should be grateful that Chloe didn’t tell you she wanted a horse.” She sounded more like her ordinary, composed self, albeit resigned.

  Didn’t do a damn thing for the unrelenting tightness in his jeans.

  He closed his hand around the metal railing that guarded the edge of the porch. It was either that, or chance reaching for her again, and his self-control had already reached its limit. “A horse would have been easier to come by than the hairy beast, there. My uncle has a horse farm, for one thing. And my cousin and I used to talk about going into horse breeding, ourselves.”

  Mallory gave him an alarmed glance over her shoulder. “Don’t you even think about it.”

  “Christmas is in less than two weeks.”

  “Ryan—”

  “Relax. I’m kidding.” If Chloe was interested in horses, she didn’t have to own one to have easy access to one.

  Mallory’s mouth snapped closed. She looked back toward the dog. “Good thing.”

  “Never got much past the talking with Axel, anyway.” Mostly because Ryan had been chasing around the world trying to destroy a monster. “He and Evan are having some success at it, though.” He knew he was rambling. Keeping his mouth busy with something other than her mouth.

  “Evan?”

  “Taggart. The veterinarian. A friend. Married to my cousin, Leandra.” He nodded toward the puppy, whose curious nose had led him back to the porch steps. “He arranged the mutt.”

  She scooped the dog up in her arms. “I may be just an ignorant doctor, Ryan, but I know this is no mutt.” Her finger smoothed over the dog’s finely shaped head. “What is he? A spaniel of some sort?”

  “Cavalier King Charles.”

  “Even the name sounds expensive! Was he?”

  “He’s a gift, Doc. You’re not supposed to ask about the cost of gifts.”

  “In other words, he was expensive.” She looked bewildered. “Chloe doesn’t need pricey gifts from you, Ryan. All she cares about is your time and, even when she knows the truth, that’s not going to change.”

  “You think this is some attempt at winning her affection?”

  “What else would prompt you to spend money you can probably ill afford?”

  He almost laughed. “Mallory, you’re so far off you’re not even in the ballpark.”

  “You don’t have to be sensitive. I couldn’t afford to blow money on an expensive dog, either.”

  He could buy a hundred dogs like this one and not even feel the effects. That’s what happened when you earned the kind of money he had and for as long as he had. Add in the fact that working numbers came as naturally to him as breathing and he’d amassed a fortune even before he’d turned thirty. He’d also realized that no amount of money was worth losing your soul, but by then it was too late. “Let me worry about my finances. I’m not exactly on the dole.”

  He wondered if Mallory was even aware of the way she was rubbing her cheek against the puppy’s silky head. Her eyes were almost the same shade as the dog’s brown spots.

  And getting caught up in the drugging warmth of that gaze again was not going to get them across the street where a seven-year-old girl and her eighty-year-old great-grandmother could provide very adequate chaperoning.

  He rubbed the dog’s nose. “Evan just found the pooch two days ago. He wasn’t even sure he could get him here to Weaver by today. I would have told you, Mallory, if I’d have had a chance.”

  She didn’t look convinced. But she didn’t look as if she still wanted to draw and quarter him, either.

  He also knew that was probably due more to holding that damnably cute, squirming little puppy than it was to him, personally.

  But he wasn’t proud.

  He’d take what he could get.

  He realized he was staring at her fingers as they stroked slowly over the dog’s silky ears, and he yanked open the storm door gesturing for her to go inside.

  “I’ve got a leash for him but figured Chloe ought to be the one to pick out anything else. If she doesn’t find what she wants in town, there’s a good-size pet store in Braden. We could drive over tomorrow, maybe.” He reached into the kennel cage and pulled out a brilliant purple blanket. “It’s a baby blanket,” he said, feeling self-conscious. “Tara had it at her shop. It was the only thing purple that I could find. The mutt likes it.”

  Mallory stood stock-still in the dining room next to the cage. She was still cradling the puppy. The sunlight slanted through the tall windows, shining across her hair, making it glimmer as though it had been dusted with gold.

  He decided in that moment that he had a seriously bad case of starvation when his brain conjured such poetic notions.

  “You really care about her.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

  He shrugged, feeling uneasy. “What did you expect?”

  She looked uncertain. Vulnerable. “I don’t know,” she admitted after a moment. “It just wasn’t…this.”

  He was pretty damn curious what exactly “this” meant. “I don’t know what you think the job description for daddy entails, Doc. I’m only doing what it seems like I ought to be doing. It’s not like discovering a daughter was on my calendar this month.” He had no experience being a father. But he’d had two of them—good ones—who’d set an example. He figured he’d fall miles short—he had in every other way—but he was doing what he could. “If you don’t like it, then—”

  “No,” she interrupted quickly. “No, no. I do. Too much, really.” She exhaled. “I’m making a mess of this. I know. I’m sorry.” She brushed her cheek against the puppy’s head and the little beast’s eyes rolled in ecstasy. “Here.” She settled the dog in the crook of Ryan’s arm and tucked the blanket around him. “You show him to Chloe. He’s from you, after all.”

  He eyed her, looking for some catch and finding nothing at all in her face but an odd expression that he couldn’t interpret. “You’re not mad anymore?”

  Her lips twisted wryly. “You’re going to make her day. Her year. It would be pretty churlish of me not to realize that, even if the finer details are not exactly worked out.”

  “Life happens with or without the details all being dotted and crossed.”

  “Now you’re sounding like Gram.”

  “Because I’ve learned just how little there is that we can control?”

  She tied the belt of her coat around her slender waist. “All the more reason to keep control of those things that we can.” She headed toward the foyer and the front door, obviously taking in the complete lack of furnishings. “You don’t even have a chair to sit on.”

  “So? I just got the key this morning. Right before I picked up the pooch. And fur
niture’s easy enough to come by.”

  “In Weaver?” She looked disbelieving.

  “Even in little old Weaver.” He smiled faintly. “Darlin’, I’ve got family coming out of the woodwork around here. There’s always furniture sitting unused in someone’s basement or attic. There’s only one thing I’ll want new, anyway.”

  “What’s that?”

  He reached around her to open the door. Which again brought him close enough to smell the fragrance of her hair. “A bed.”

  Given that Mallory was a trained physician, Ryan found it amazingly easy to rattle her.

  A rosy blush spread across her high cheekbones. Dipped down her neck.

  And probably beyond.

  Clearly, rattling her was a double-edged sword because he’d just sliced himself right open with want, all over again.

  If she was aware of that particular fact, she managed to hide it, though, by angling her chin upward and sailing through the doorway without sparing him another glance.

  The dog whimpered softly and gave Ryan a slow, wet lick across his hand.

  Sympathy from a dog.

  “Let’s just hope Chloe doesn’t want to name you Princess,” he told the puppy, and pulled the door shut to follow Mallory back across the street.

  Chloe was beside herself with impatience by the time he and Mallory crossed the street and found her in the living room. “What took you so long? Grammy and I finished hanging up the Christmas stockings but I’ve been waiting and waiting…”

  She spotted the brown-and-white head above the purple blanket and her words dried up.

  The growing wonder in her bright blue eyes was enough to make Ryan’s chest feel tight.

  He damn near jumped out of his skin when Mallory settled her hand on his arm. There was a soft look in her eyes, as if she knew exactly what he was feeling.

  Hell, maybe she did.

  Up to now, she’d had Chloe’s previous six birthdays all to herself. Ample opportunities to learn how one little girl can reach inside you and grab hold of your heart.

  Even one as walled off as his.

  “Is that—” Chloe didn’t seem capable of finishing the question, probably fearing that if she did, the magic of the moment might evaporate.

  Mallory’s gaze met his. She gave an imperceptible nod. Encouraging him even though, only minutes ago, she’d been fit to strangle him.

  He bent his knees, crouching down closer to Chloe’s level.

  “Oh my gosh,” she breathed, and the puppy, either sensing freedom or a soul mate, scrabbled out from the swaddling blanket and leaped to the floor. His tiny paws slipped and slid on the hardwood floor as he aimed straight for Chloe’s outstretched hands.

  “Oh my gosh,” she said again. And again as she sat right down on her rear. The puppy climbed onto her lap, planted his tiny paws on her chest and proceeded to lick her to death. “I love him.” Her whisper was fervent. “Oh, Mr. Ryan, he’s the very best birthday present in the whole world. Mommy, do I really get to keep him?”

  Ryan cleared his throat, ready to explain that the dog should stay at his place, but Mallory’s hand touched him again. This time resting on his shoulder.

  “Yes,” she answered. Her voice sounded as thick as his tongue felt. “You really get to keep him.”

  “Good gracious,” Kathleen exclaimed, coming into the room to see the fuss. She was holding a punch bowl filled with pink-colored punch. “Would you look at that! My Gretchen had a puppy just like that when she was a wee girl. That was your mama’s mama, Chloe.”

  “Isn’t he wonderful?” Despite her cast, Chloe was doing her best to hold on to the excited puppy as he practically climbed up to her shoulders.

  “Indeed he is,” Kathleen agreed. Her eyes were dancing as she retreated with the bowl once again.

  “A puppy is a big responsibility,” Mallory said. “You have to make sure he has food and water—”

  “I will, I will—”

  “And that he goes outside to go potty—”

  “I will, I will!” She twisted around onto her knees, then awkwardly stood up, still holding his squirming body. “Oh, thank you, Mommy.” She wrapped her other arm around Mallory’s hips.

  Mallory smoothed back Chloe’s hair. “You’re welcome, but you need to thank Ryan. The puppy is from him.”

  Chloe’s hug transferred to him. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Ryan. I love him. And I love you.”

  He figured the words were just the enthusiasm of an ecstatic seven-year-old. But she was looking up at him with such a wealth of joy he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from it. “Maybe just Ryan would do,” he suggested gruffly.

  “Maybe something else would do better,” Mallory said, her voice soft. Husky. Her gaze glanced off his. “Chloe, there’s something you should know about Ryan.”

  Alarm shot down his spine. Was she just going to blurt it out now? No preparation. Right before Chloe’s party?

  Springing it on him the way he’d sprung the puppy on her? Only this was a helluva lot more life changing. “Mallory—”

  But Chloe just giggled, looking up at him. “I know one thing about him. He’s standing under the mistletoe. And so are you.”

  Obviously disconcerted by her daughter’s observation, Mallory looked up where Chloe was pointing above their heads. A sprig of mistletoe, tied with a red ribbon, hung from the center of the doorway. “Where did that come from?”

  “Grammy and I hung it up. She hadda stand on a chair, though.” Laughter bubbled out of her when the puppy leaped from her arms only to run in circles around her feet. “She says if you stand under it with someone else, you gotta kiss.”

  The look Mallory slanted toward him was startled and just as wary as he felt.

  He solved the matter simply enough by scooping Chloe up into his arms. He held her between him and Mallory and she smiled faintly, obviously on to his solution.

  The dog was going mad, yapping even more excitedly around their feet. Ryan kissed Chloe on one cheek.

  Mallory kissed her on the other. “There. Now we’re all kissed.”

  Chloe just rolled her eyes. “No, we’re not.” Managing to wrap her casted arm around Ryan’s neck, she tugged. “You got to kiss each other.”

  “Chloe.” Mallory chided with laughter that was plainly nervous, at least to his ears. “We really should be getting ready for your guests. They’ll start arriving soon. And you need to think of a name for your puppy.”

  “I got a name already,” she said promptly. “And Grammy says we’re already ready for my party. All we need are the people.”

  Ryan managed not to smile at the consternation that crossed Mallory’s face before she could smooth it away. She leaned over Chloe, stretching up to plant a quick peck on Ryan’s jaw. “Okay. There.”

  Chloe’s gaze slid to his, clearly disgusted with her mother’s attempt. She obviously expected him to do better.

  Problem was, both he and Mallory knew just how much better they could do.

  But not with a manipulative, no matter how sweet, little girl situated between them.

  He’d faced down life-threatening situations with less caution, for God’s sake.

  He thrust his hand through the rich, soft waves guarding Mallory’s neck and tugged her forward. Pressed his lips to hers and let her go just as quickly.

  He didn’t look again at her as he set Chloe on the floor, but he managed to catch the speculative look on her grandmother’s face since Kathleen had obviously witnessed at least the last part of the scene.

  He almost felt seventeen again and had been caught kissing Anya Johannson in the backseat of his mother’s car when Anya had been just fourteen.

  He’d been grounded for a month and assigned to his grandfather, Squire, who’d had plenty of opinions about what kind of behavior was expected of a Clay.

  “Chloe.” Mallory seemed just as intent on not looking at him as she adjusted the headband in Chloe’s hair an inch. “What’s the name you picked out for the puppy?”
<
br />   “Abercrombie.”

  It was so far from anything Ryan could have expected, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Where’d you come up with a name like that?”

  “Abercrombie,” Mallory provided, while Chloe just gave him a shocked look, “is Purple Princess’s best friend.” And then she smiled.

  And for a moment, everything in the world seemed to slowly grind to a halt. She was looking at him as if everything would turn out okay. As if everything was normal. She was Chloe’s mom. He was Chloe’s dad.

  It scared the bloody hell right out of him.

  “Now.” She held out her hand for Chloe. “Come sit down with me and Ryan for a minute. There’s something important you need to know.”

  “He is your boyfriend,” Chloe trumpeted. “I knew it!”

  Mallory’s cheeks went red again. “No, sweetheart. He’s…he’s not. But—” She shot him a quick look. Not exactly filled with apology or defiance, but definitely full of something. Determination maybe. “But Ryan is someone very special. And I don’t want to wait another minute to tell you. You see he’s, well, he’s your father.”

  He waited for the shock. The explosion. The denial or horror.

  But Chloe just blinked a little as she absorbed the news.

  And then she smiled more brightly than ever, turning that wonder-filled gaze on him again. “I knew this was going to be the bestest birthday ever! Now we’re never ever going to have to leave Weaver, right?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You have a patient waiting in room two.” Nina’s disembodied voice sounded through the intercom in Mallory’s office and she jumped a little. “Last-minute appointment.”

  Mallory glanced at her watch. It was nearly quitting time and had been a very quiet Monday afternoon as far as patients went. As for Mallory’s emotions, it had been anything but, and had been that way since Chloe had jumped to the conclusion that being Ryan’s daughter meant staying in Weaver from now on.

  Mallory hadn’t had the heart to correct her assumption on her birthday, and hadn’t had a good opportunity to do so since then.