Man's Best Friend
Blair MacGregor
To learn more about the author, go to www.blairmacgregorbooks.com
Jason had never hired a cainan before. He'd already scanned her resume, asked questions across his kitchen table, and listened to the careful answers Jennifer Korkmaz gave. Nothing about her Swedish looks matched the Turkish surname. He hated that about cainans. They should just adopt the breed name instead of expecting everyone to know what country any given dog came from. At least honing didn't change outward appearances. Hiring a nanny with a furry muzzle would be way too weird—and forever spoil the fun of Dogs Playing Poker.
"Akbash?" he asked. It was the only Turkish breed he knew that came close to the job description he'd posted through the cainan employment center.
Jennifer shook her head, sending wispy strands of pale hair floating toward her lap. She plucked up hairs she'd shed onto her jeans and tucked them into her fist. At least she had good house manners. "No, sir. Shepherd."
"I don't need a security guard, just a nanny."
"Yes, sir. Anatolian Shepherd."
Jason couldn't remember what the hell an Ana-whatsit was. It wasn't anywhere on the resume, and Jennifer wasn't going to volunteer information because of that watch-the-alpha thing. He'd overheard his wife's secretary talking about an escort service that specialized in golden retriever cainans. They'd wanted to please the clients at every moment. The secretary had liked it a lot. Jason thought it was kinda creepy.
"Tell me about your..." Would it be rude to say 'breed?' "Background."
"Anatolian Shepherd," she said again. "We're guardians, sir. We don't run around making sure the kids stay in one room, not like an Australian Shepherd, but we do watch over them. There's a difference, see?" She leaned forward, no longer smiling. "Nothing gets past us, sir. Day or night. We don't let anything dangerous come near our pack."
Then she smiled and leaned back. Her canine teeth weren't bigger than anyone else's, but they shone whiter than most. "As for the nanny part, I spent last summer working for the Hales. Two boys and a girl. Ten, seven, and six."
"My boys are seven and nine," Jason mumbled, and Jennifer nodded without making eye contact. She was shedding again, and trying to be discreet. The shedding meant she was nervous or excited, or both. Annoying, really. Jason didn't understand how science could use dog cells-genes-whatevers to enhance instincts, but couldn't figure out how to not enhance shedding.
He'd been hoping to find someone more Saint Bernard-ish. Even a little Corgi-honing would have worked. But he did remember something about shepherds being gentler than their reputation. It was all in the training, they said.
No one else had answered the ad yet. His wife wouldn't be back for three weeks, school let out for the summer in one, and his assistant had had emergency knee surgery last night after trying to kick someone's head at a Tae Kwan Do thing over the weekend. That meant Jason had to work from the office, not home. The house was already a mess, evidenced by the muddy shoes at the back door and the last night's pizza carton sitting on the table.
"Can you start tomorrow?"
She lifted her chin as if sniffing the air. "When do I meet your children?"
* * *
Jason caught up at work by the end of the week—no small feat, considering how far behind he'd been. Tuesday afternoon, Jennifer had the kids playing in the backyard—together! no fighting!—within minutes of meeting them. They'd tumbled in for dinner on time, washed up at Jennifer's suggestion, and eaten Jennifer's mac n' cheese with a minimal number of fart sounds and snickering.
Wednesday, she hadn't interrupted his workday with a single question. Got them into bed by nine, finished cleaning up by nine-thirty, and Jason didn't hear a sound from her guest room until the next morning. For the first time in two weeks, Gavin and Evan made it to the bus stop on time Thursday morning.
Friday, Jason didn't leave the office until almost eight-thirty. His wife called while he was driving home. He updated Andrea on the boys, then she asked, "So how's the nanny's training coming along?"
"She hardly needed any training. The boys like her, she cooks, she cleans, she even—"
"No, the pack training. Did it take?"
Jason navigated the last stupid traffic circle before his neighborhood. He vaguely remembered skimming information sent by the cainan agency. "She's doing great, hun. Don't worry."
"I hate nannies," she said. "I hate we have some stranger in the house to raise the boys."
"Two weeks," Jason said before Andrea started in about how he should go back to freelancing from home. "Two weeks, you'll be back, we can work it out. In the meantime, Jennifer's doing fine. How's your conference?"
Andrea let him change the subject, filling the rest of his drive home with the praise others had given her presentations. They said their goodbyes as Jason pulled into the driveway. The porchlight was on, but the windows of the boys' upstairs bedrooms were dark. He checked his watch—nine-oh-seven—as he turned the front door knob.
It was locked. Before he could find the right key, Jennifer opened the door and stood on the threshold, frowning. "Please call if you're going to be so late," she said. "The boys wanted to wait up for you. It would have been easier to get them into bed on time if you'd called."
"They could have stayed up until I got home."
"That wouldn't have been right."
He stepped forward, but Jennifer stayed at the threshold. "Um. I'd like to come in."
She smiled. "Sure." A beat later, she moved aside to let him pass, then locked the door behind him. "I'll check the backdoor before I go to bed. There's a plate of leftovers for you in the fridge."
Jason thought about peeking in on the boys first, but didn't hear a sound from upstairs. So while Jennifer went through her nightly ritual of checking every window, Jason went to the kitchen and put the cold chicken and green beans into the microwave. He'd just settled at the breakfast bar with his reheated dinner when Jennifer strode in and, with a little smile, pinched a single green bean off the edge of his plate.
"I love those," she said around a mouthful of bean, then left him alone.
Jason looked over his shoulder to watch her walk down the hall. He wanted to enjoy the thrill of that little flirtation, but when she didn't even glance back to see if he was watching, he figured it was all for the best. Andrea didn't need another reason to hate the nanny.
* * *
Jennifer made a baked egg-sausage thing for Saturday's breakfast. She stole a crumble of sausage from the edge of Jason's plate. His face flushed, but the boys didn't notice. They were too busy scooping food into their mouths. Jennifer had taken a seat and begun eating by the time he recovered well enough to take a bite. She gave him an approving nod, then turned her sharp attention onto the boys.
"Stop."
Gavin and Evan stopped moving at Jennifer's word. Gavin, the eldest, even stopped chewing. Uncertain, Jason set his own fork down as well.
Jennifer took a bite of egg. "We'll go to the zoo if you guys get your rooms picked up after breakfast."
"Really?" Evan popped out of his seat, then sat back down.
"Really. Sound good to you, Gavin?"
Gavin glanced at Jason then back to Jennifer. "If it's okay with Dad, sure."
"Good." Jennifer put another forkful in her mouth. "Eat up, guys."
After breakfast, Gavin wandered into Jason's home office. Jason held up his just-a-sec finger while his other hand used the mouse to drop the client's logo onto a new brochure design. Gavin quietly shut the office door before coming to the desk. He stood there, rolling his foot side to side, until Jason looked at him. "Can a mom have a puppy?"
Jason did not smile. His parents had had it easy. The old
-fashioned sex talk hadn't needed to explain the difference between what was possible—genetic honing—with what wasn't—cross-species breeding. "No, moms can't."
"Can Jennifer?"
"I don't know, but it would be pretty rude to ask."
"Well, duh." Gavin rolled his other foot against the floor. "She's kinda weird. But she doesn't act like a dog. Does she?"
Jason struggled not to glance back to his laptop. If he finished the brochure today, he could take Monday afternoon off. He tried to come up with an answer that wouldn't lead to more questions—just his luck, Gavin would start asking about implanting rattlesnake eggs in housecats—when he noticed the big white envelope of cainan facts on his desk.
"I think you're old enough to understand this." Jason handed it to his son. "Why don't you take a look and let me know if you have any more questions."
Gavin peeked into the envelope, then rolled his eyes before heading out. "Thanks a lot, Dad."
* * *
The house was wonderfully quiet until Jennifer and the boys got home late that evening. Jason was on his third beer and feeling happy. He shouted hello from the couch as Gavin dashed upstairs. Evan ran into the living room and leapt onto the loveseat, waving a new stuffed orangutan.
"Down!" Jennifer yelled.
Jason nearly dropped his beer. Even's feet thumped onto the floor.
"No jumping on the furniture," she said, quieter.
"'Kay," Evan whispered, wide-eyed.
She pointed him toward the bathroom. "Go wash up for bed."
Jason wished he'd stopped after the second beer because then he might understand what just happened. He watched Evan sulk out upstairs, then looked at Jennifer. "Was the zoo okay?"
A big smile. "Of course! We had a great time, and stopped for burgers on the way home."
"You didn't need to yell at Evan like that."
It came out far too bluntly. He made it worse when, as Jennifer narrowed her eyes, he stood up to face her.
"Do you let the kids jump on the furniture?" she asked.
"No, but you didn't need to yell like that."
She crossed the room to stand in front of him, tilting her head to maintain eye contact. Said nothing. Jason glanced aside to make sure Evan hadn't come back in. When he looked back at Jennifer, her frown relaxed and she sat on the couch. Now he couldn't reclaim his place without sitting right next to her. At last the silence became too awkward to maintain.
"Sorry," Jason said. "It just surprised me."
She shrugged. "Long day."
"How about I take care of the boys tonight?"
"Awesome."
Jennifer swung her legs onto the coffee table, then picked up the remote. Jason left the room while she flipped channels. By the time he remembered his beer, Jennifer had drained the bottle. She'd shed a few strands of blonde hair on the coffee table, and hadn't bothered to clean them up.
* * *
"Dad, we have a problem," Gavin whispered when Jason came into his room at bedtime. He held out a few sheets of letterhead with the cainan logo. "Did you do this part wrong?"
Jason took the papers and sat on the edge of Gavin's bed. Gavin scooted close beside him. Under the bold heading of "Pack Training" were fifteen bulleted points. Above the heading, in red italics, it read, "Disclaimer: Cainans have undergone instinct enhancement procedures (honing) under the supervision of licensed professionals. Posting a cainan employment offer is considered acceptance of the risks and responsibilities of employing cainans in service positions. We are not responsible for losses resulting from poor pack orientation on the part of the employer."
"How was the zoo?" Jason asked as he scanned the list of things he hadn't done.
"Weird. She'd be all mean-like in a second, then all nice again. I just tried not to make her mad."
He nodded as he read the next page: "Recognizing Attempts at Alpha Positioning." There were fewer bullet points. He recognized half of them. Blocking doorways. Eating off the plates of others. I thought she was flirting! Excessive eye contact. Ignoring employer and/or employer's requests. Sitting in employer's preferred chair and/or seating position.
"Yeah," Jason said on a breath. "I did it wrong."
"Maybe you should call Mom."
He hoped Gavin didn't notice his instinctive cringe. "I'm thinking maybe you're right."
* * *
"I'm coming home now," Andrea said in the precise, flat-affect voice Jason had heard her use on her rare occasions of immeasurable displeasure.
Jason, sitting in the front seat of his parked car because the driveway was the only place of assured privacy, thunked his head against the steering wheel. "I'll take care of it, hun, I just need your help, maybe the name of that trainer who—"
"I'm coming home tonight."
"Honey—"
"You put that Anatolian Shepherd—with no pack training—in charge of the house. She's probably not dangerous now, but in another week—"
"I thought you said Shepherds weren't dangerous by nature."
"Anatolians are downright nasty if they think their pack is in danger. That's the instinct that gets honed in. This bitch has made our boys her pack. Fucking nannies," she added under breath.
"Shouldn't I call someone in, then?"
"I can make the drive home in six hours, tops. Play along until I get there. Give her all the alpha praise she wants, and she might even be nice."
"Nice?"
"She's doing what her honing primed her for. Without pack training, she will take charge."
He released a sigh. "I'm sorry."
"I know," she said gently. "We'll fix this."
He got out of the car as they said their love-you-good-nights, then headed for the house. Jennifer was looking out an upstairs window, so he hurried in before she made it downstairs to block the door.
Jennifer met him in the foyer. "Is everything all right? What's out there?"
"Just making a phonecall," he said as calmly as possible.
But she must have noticed the tremor in his voice, the twitch of his hand. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Really."
When Jennifer yanked the door open to look outside, he almost pushed her onto the porch and locked the door behind her. Almost. He thought about it, anyway.
Then she shut the door, locked it, and turned to stare at him. Gaze steady, she strolled past him and took up position on the bottom stair. "The kids need their sleep. Go away."
"My bedroom is upstairs," he pointed out as calmly as he could.
"Go away. Leave the kids alone."
"They're my kids!"
Her shoulders hunched, her hands went stiff. A thin string of drool lined the corner of her mouth. "Leave them alone."
Jason felt short of breath, shivery, sweaty. He made himself speak in the universal nice-big-doggy tone. "I'll stay downstairs, okay?"
Her shoulders remained high, but her face relaxed. She used the back of one hand to self-consciously wipe away the drool. "No problem. I'll watch the kids. You go lie down."
"What if I just—"
"Go lie down. Stay."
Jason broke eye contact first. "Okay."
* * *
He didn't sleep. Jennifer prowled the house all night, never still for more than an hour or so. Her pattern included regular checks on him, when she'd stand over the couch and watch him while he pretended to be sleeping. Once, he'd thought to creep into the kitchen because the carving knife sounded comforting. She had come rushing into the living room at the first creak of the floorboard. It was a horror movie in slow motion, with the suspense parts stretched thin and sharp enough to slice a strand of shed hair. He tried to ignore the pit in his gut while deciding what he'd do when the boys woke up.
It was almost dawn, but still shadowy enough to see the headlights when a car pulled into the driveway. Jason wanted to race out to Andrea, but didn't dare leave Jennifer in the house with the boys. She was still upstairs, so he sat up slowly in hopes of not waking her. No luck. The
slam of the car door resulted in footsteps pounding down the stairs.
Jennifer reached the front door as the key rattled in the back door's deadbolt. Lips drawn back, she sprinted down the hall toward the kitchen. Knowing his wife was home gave him the courage to stand in Jennifer's way. She shouldered past him, but it slowed her down just enough. Andrea stepped inside at the same moment Jennifer skidded to a halt on the kitchen's tile floor. Jason started forward, but Andrea held up a hand to stop him. He went as far as the kitchen doorway, close behind Jennifer.
"Get out," Jennifer said to Andrea. Shoulders hunched high, eyes wide and staring. "I don't know you."
Andrea emanated height, muscle, and stability. Not bad for a woman of five feet, three inches, one hundred twenty-five pounds. In a steady voice, she said, "This is my home."
"You're a stranger!"
Andrea took one more firm step forward. "My home."
"You can't have my pack, you bitch."
"Alpha bitch, nanny. This is my pack."
Jennifer was poised on the balls of her feet. A line of drool hit the tile floor. Andrea stared at her, leaning forward just enough to claim more space than she needed. She didn't even blink. Jason was afraid to breathe.
Tension didn't snap or ease or seep away. It just stopped. Jennifer's shoulders relaxed, and she hung her head. Andrea remained still, blinked once, and waited.
"I can make breakfast," Jennifer said quietly.
"You may," Andrea answered. "That would be nice."
She strode for the doorway, and Jennifer scrambled to get out of her way. Andrea ignored her—which made Jennifer look downright giddy—in favor of smiling at Jason and leading him toward the living room.
"Is that it?" Jason whispered. "Just like that?"
"It's a start." She glanced back. "Maybe we should keep her."
"But she's crazy!"
"Not at all. Some breeds need a firmer hand, that's all." She touched his cheek, then gave him a quick kiss. "You'll have to take charge of things sooner or later, Jason. I can't always drop everything to rush home."
He looked back to the kitchen, where Jennifer was hastily sweeping up the hair she'd shed in her earlier anxiety. "If you say so, honey. What should I do next?"
Andrea released a long sigh, shook her head, then headed up the stairs. "Why don't you go lie down, Jason."