Double Dog Dare

  Of all the men in this town, this state, this country or, hell, the world, no one could be a worse betrayal than his arrogant asshole of a stepbrother.

  Through the small opening, Josh could see Gid lift his sculpted jaw, showing exactly whose whiskers had chafed Savannah’s face. He narrowed green eyes with a condescending look meant to put Josh in his place. And of course, he put his hands on his hips like he was standing there in one of his six-thousand-dollar suits and not his underwear, because Gideon Bucking was cocky in every situation.

  Josh might have four inches and thirty pounds of muscle on this clown, but he had nothing in the attitude department. Gideon was the king of that.

  “You should leave, Josh.” Gideon’s voice sounded far away, like Josh was underwater and drowning.

  He sucked in a steadying breath, getting a lungful of that familiar, feminine scent. The smell of sex, emanating from both of them. Fisting his hands, he leaned in. “And you should die, dickhead.”

  “Josh!” Savannah fought to keep the door from opening all the way to him, a scolding look in her eyes. “There’s no reason to act like a caveman about this. I’m a grown woman. I know what I did.”

  “You cheated on me.”

  She held his gaze and blinked. “It’s not what you think.”

  He actually let out a dry laugh.

  “I mean…” She threw a pleading look over her shoulder, then finally opened the door wider. “Tell him, Gid,” she demanded.

  But Gideon shook his head. “I don’t have time for this shit, Sav.” He turned and headed down the hall, walking away like the chickenshit slime he was. “Close up shop with him and get back to bed.”

  Josh felt his nostrils flare.

  “Gid, you promised we’d tell him.” Her voice rose, but Gideon disappeared around the corner into her bedroom.

  “We just did.” He slammed the door like a parting shot.

  Slowly, she turned back to Josh, gathering up her thick hair and pulling it through her hand in a nervous gesture he recognized as well as any of his own. “I guess I’m sorry isn’t going to cut it,” she said quietly.

  “Why would you do this?” He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that she’d sleep with anyone else, let alone Gideon. Now. Last night. While he was practicing proposals.

  How could he be so blind?

  “We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks,” she said. “I was going to tell you today.”

  And he was going to propose.

  “We started talking a lot at the hospital fundraiser your parents hosted last month,” she said, leaning against the doorjamb.

  He hadn’t gone to that party because he stayed late to finish a job, happy to have a good reason not to wear a tux and go to some stupid fundraiser at Buckingsham Palace, as he thought of his mother and stepfather’s mansion. But he’d encouraged Savannah to go. She loved his family, and they loved her. Literally, it would seem.

  “It was so fast, Josh. I didn’t even know what happened.”

  Gideon happened. The man who resented everything about Josh, who’d hated him since the day Malcolm married Mom, and who constantly lorded the Bucking name, money, and status over him, as if Josh gave a flying fig about any of that.

  How could Josh not see this coming? Gideon was a reckless, thoughtless, selfish prick who broke rules and used people and took whatever he wanted with no regard for anyone’s feelings. What made Josh think that he wouldn’t go after a prize like Savannah?

  And get her.

  How was that possible? She loved Josh. Or had said she did. Many times. Many, many times. Yes, it had frequently been said when she was flat on her back and writhing in pleasure, but—

  “I guess if I didn’t do something drastic, we’d never break up.”

  He stared at her. “If you wanted to break up, why not tell me?”

  “I didn’t know I wanted to,” she admitted in a thick voice. “But the closer we get to…you know…the more scared I get.”

  You know. “Marriage.” It wasn’t a question.

  She bit her lip, barely nodding. “I can’t see it with you, Josh. And I know that’s what you want.”

  “So you had sex with Gideon?”

  “Josh, please.” She heaved a sigh. “Things change. People change.” She hung her head. “You want to leave your family, and I don’t.”

  “My family?” No, they weren’t his family, damn it. They were a stepfamily. And she wanted them more than she wanted him. With Gideon, she got that—with no pesky “step” in the way. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I like them. I love Brea like she’s my own sister. And your mom and dad—”

  “He’s not my dad.”

  Her eyes shuttered as if she’d known that was coming because she’d heard him say it a thousand times. “He’s not a bad guy. He loves your mom. And you won’t give them a chance…” She glanced over her shoulder. “But Gideon is—”

  “You’re picking him—them—over me.” That’s what she was doing, without a doubt.

  “You’re the one who always says you marry a family, not a person.”

  “Because of what my mother did to me, Savannah. And whoever talked about marriage?” Even as he uttered the words, the weight of the ring in his pocket dragged him down. And the look on her face told him this proposal wasn’t going to be a surprise. Had she expected it today? This morning? Did she plan…this?

  “Josh, what we have is…physical. You know that.”

  Apparently, he’d foolishly mixed up physical and real.

  “It can’t last once that wears off,” she added. “I mean, it’s good. It’s great, but you have so much hate in you.”

  “Hate?”

  “You hate the Buckings.”

  He gave a dry laugh. “I think it’s the other way around, Savannah. And if you need proof of that, go take a look at who is in your bed.”

  “I know how you feel about Gid,” she said. “But he’s…”

  “Priggish? Condescending? Self-centered? Or a Bucking by blood?”

  She flinched, almost imperceptibly, but he saw it. He knew which of Gideon’s list of spectacular qualifications were important to her. She said money didn’t matter, but he knew Savannah had grown up dirt-poor. He knew that money meant freedom and security to her. He knew his stepsister was her closest friend, and Savannah belonged in that damn mansion more than he ever would.

  “Look, Josh, I want to stay friends so that we can see each other at family events and have things be comfortable if I’m with Gid.”

  With Gid? What the holy hell did that even mean? What did it even matter? Everything was gone. The hope of a life with her, the dreams of a future, the possibility of a family. She didn’t want that, not with him.

  She wanted Gideon. Fine. They deserved each other. “Don’t worry about family events, Savannah. I’m leaving for Bitter Bark today. I’m done with this town, this family, their business, and you.”

  She looked relieved. “Josh, you know I’d never be happy there. It’s a cute town, and that building you bought has potential, but I’d never get enough clients in a sleepy little place like that. There’s no real money there, just a lot of dogs and farms and people who never dress up.”

  “Exactly.” It sounded like heaven to him.

  As if the mention of dogs lured her closer, Stella moved slowly around Savannah’s legs, and Josh noticed she was trembling a bit. Without thinking, he bent down to comfort the little dog.

  “Hey, kid.” He ruffled the crested rooster tail on her head, suddenly realizing how much he’d miss this spunky little creature.

  But Stella didn’t look so spunky right then. She actually looked scared, her eyes darting from side to side, but not even looking at Josh like she was too ashamed of her owner’s behavior to make eye contact.

  “Josh, I’m sorry.” Savannah’s apology sounded genuine, he’d give her that. “I wish this didn’t happen this way.”

  “I wish it didn’t happen at all.” N
one of it. Not one minute with Savannah was worth this.

  Silent, he coaxed Stella closer, giving her head a scratch. She nuzzled his hand and finally looked up at him. Actually, past him, like she saw a ghost in the hall behind him. In fact, she stared so intently, he turned to look over his shoulder, wondering if Terry had followed him up there.

  He hadn’t, so maybe that was Stella’s way of telling him it was time to go. With a sigh, he scooped her up and stood, holding her close to rub his thumb under her chin, making her head roll back because she liked that so much. “Gonna miss you, kid.”

  “She’ll miss you, too.” Savannah reached for her. “She’s been acting weird.”

  “Seems to be going around,” he muttered, tightening his grip when he felt her belly quiver like it did when thunder rolled in the distance. Stella always knew when a storm was brewing.

  He didn’t relinquish the dog, but held her tighter, memorizing the feel of her. He hadn’t had a dog since Roscoe, when he was a little boy. His father had found that old black mutt at a rest stop where he’d parked his rig once, but Roscoe died not long after Pops did. Suddenly, an ancient pain welled up and threatened to strangle him.

  Silently, he gave Stella a kiss on her head and handed her to Savannah. “Happy birthday, Sav. Hope all your dreams come true.” With that, he turned and went back to the elevator, grateful that the doors swished open right away when he touched the button. As they closed, he heard Stella bark one more time.

  Stepping into the lobby, Josh met the gaze of Terry the doorman, who looked a little worried, confused, and sympathetic.

  “You doin’ okay, Mr. Ranier?” he asked.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the box, wanting nothing in the whole world as much as a way to get rid of it. “I’ll survive.” He flipped the box to the man, who caught it with one hand. “Give that to someone you love,” he said. “Or hawk it and buy yourself something nice.”

  The other man’s jaw dropped. “You might change your mind, Mr. Ranier,” he said. “You might find someone else.” He didn’t have to add someone faithful, but Josh could see the unspoken words in the man’s eyes.

  “I will not change my mind,” Josh assured him. “I will not find someone else.” He took a few steps closer to make his point. “You be my witness, Terry. I will never fall in love, trust a woman, or spend more than one night with anyone. You got that?”

  Terry lifted the box. “I can hold on to it for you in case you change your mind.”

  “Don’t. I won’t change my mind. Sell it. Swear to me you’ll sell it.”

  Terry scowled at him. “I can’t—”

  “You can and you will. Don’t sit on that thing, and don’t wait for me to come back for it, because that’s not happening. You’ll get decent money. Take your wife on a nice trip. Nothing could make me happier.” He started to turn, but stopped. “But make me one promise.”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t ever cheat on her, lie to her, or break her heart.”

  “I never have and I never will,” Terry assured him, extending his hand for a shake. “I give you my word.”

  Josh took it and shook. “And I give you mine. Never again. Never, ever again.”

  Terry’s eyes glinted. “You might change your mind.”

  But Josh knew that would never happen. With a nod goodbye, he headed to his truck, and by the time he got there, he was pretty sure his heart was safely in deep freeze, where it would stay until the day it stopped beating.

  Chapter Two

  When Gramma Finnie came out of the kitchen with a birthday cake ablaze with thirty candles, Darcy Kilcannon knew her moment had arrived. At least, it would, once the singing, cheering, and cake eating was over and she could get her father alone.

  All around, the massive family she loved more than life itself hooted and hollered, teased and clapped and, oh yeah, sang. Loud. Bad. Like a bunch of tipsy Irishmen and women, which was exactly what most of them were, unless you counted the spouses, who were Irish by association, or children, who were too young to drink.

  “Look at that cake, Gramma,” Darcy cooed, touched that her grandmother had worked so hard on this one. The frosting and candles were pink, of course, which made perfect sense for a girl who chose that color over all others. Except…there were thirty candles, so she wasn’t a girl. And maybe this was the year a nice, refined blue could be the new pink.

  The final off-key note faded away. The candles flickered and threatened to drip wax on the flowers. More than a dozen Kilcannons and five Mahoneys stared at Darcy, most of them egging her on to make a wish.

  Like she was five.

  Of course, she couldn’t let her siblings and cousins down by actually growing up. Not their little sister, the youngest of six, the perennial baby of the clan. She sighed and pulled back her long hair as she leaned over the cake, looking up to catch her father dabbing at a tear he was certain no one had noticed.

  Because he missed Mom? Or because the last thing he wanted was Darcy to be thirty years old? But she was. And it was time to make her declaration of independence. Today. Sometime in the next half hour, in fact.

  Very slowly, she straightened, still holding Dad’s gaze. “Christian?” she asked, reaching out a hand to her young nephew. “Would you do the honors of blowing the candles out for me?”

  “But it’s your birthday, Aunt Darcy.”

  “I’ll make the wish, you make the air.”

  His gap-toothed grin widened, and he scurried closer. “Okay!” He sucked in a noisy breath and held it. Darcy looked across the table at her father, who returned her gaze with nothing but love in crystal-blue eyes that were so much like her own. They shared more than that gene, too. They both loved this family unconditionally and unabashedly and would set themselves on fire so the rest of the clan could stay warm.

  Darcy had been burning for four years, and it was time to step away.

  Please understand, Dad. Please.

  Christian sent a wind gust over the candles, missing only two, which her cousin Declan snuffed with his bare fingers. Christian looked up at him, in awe of the trick.

  “Only firefighters can do that,” Declan said quickly. “And you need to be a captain, like me.”

  “Cake for everyone!” Christian announced when the clapping ended.

  There was always cake for everyone, most often during this weekly Sunday dinner gathering at Waterford Farm. With six Kilcannon kids, all but one now attached to a significant other, plus three in the next generation, and four Mahoney cousins, then throw in Dad, Gramma, and Aunt Colleen, and there were a lot of birthday celebrations, sometimes two in one week.

  Mom had made sure there was cake for every single one of those occasions, and that tradition blessedly hadn’t died with her. But Darcy had been both dreading and anticipating this one, and not because the cake was for her.

  She was telling Dad her plans today, and the only person at the table who knew that was her cousin Ella, who sat directly across from her, silently communicating full sentences because Ella and Darcy had a secret look language that they’d perfected since they were toddlers.

  Today, Ella’s raised brow and knowing gaze said: You have to do this, Darce.

  She replied with a nod so imperceptible, no one at the table would ever have seen it.

  As the chatter, volley of jokes, and almost constant sound of laughter rose and fell, Darcy grew quiet, waiting for her chance to corner Dad for a private conversation. This wasn’t an announcement she wanted to make in front of the whole family…not until she had the blessing of their patriarch. Once she had that, everyone else would rally behind her.

  “Did you hear Cilla Forsythe is retiring?” Dad asked.

  Darcy froze in the act of stabbing the yellow cake with her fork, not even trusting herself to glance at Ella. Of course, they knew the travel agent who had the storefront next to Ella’s was retiring. And they knew what was to become of that space. But no one else did…yet.

  “Sh
e is?” The question came in unison from at least five people around the table.

  Dad rose and studied Fiona in her infant carrier a few feet away on the floor where Jag sat like the baby’s personal German shepherd bodyguard. “Did she cry? I thought I heard her cry. I better get her.”

  Every person around the table chuckled at Daniel Kilcannon’s unabashed obsession with his new granddaughter, but Darcy knew her baby niece might have created the opportunity she needed.

  “Fiona’s fine, Dad,” Liam said, shooting a knowing smile at Andi, his wife.

  “Wait, wait. Back to Cilla.” Molly, Darcy’s older sister, seemed particularly flabbergasted by this news, shaking her head full of auburn waves. “Where is she going?”

  “Not sure what her plans are,” Dad said, in between tiny clucking sounds at the baby. “She said she’s getting out of the travel business because everyone thinks they can find their own deals on the Internet now.”

  “But is she leaving Bitter Bark?” Molly persisted.

  She wasn’t, Darcy knew. But she was leaving nine hundred square feet of prime retail space in the middle of town and someone else was taking over.

  “Didn’t ask.” Dad bent over Fiona. “Oh, she is awake. Hello, precious. Of course Grandpa will hold you.” Without asking for permission, he reached down to cradle the infant and lift her, making half of them laugh and the other half roll their eyes. But Darcy prayed that he took the baby somewhere quiet and alone.

  “Any excuse.” Andi shook her head, smiling.

  “Donchya worry, lass,” Gramma Finnie assured her. “You canna spoil a wee one. Not one barely two months old.”

  “If Cilla Forsythe leaves town…” Molly said, looking at her brothers in dismay.

  “Then you lose big-time,” Shane, the second oldest in the family, whispered to her.

  “Shut up, Shane.” Garrett jabbed his brother in the ribs, throwing a look at Dad, who positioned the tiny baby in his arms and walked toward the center hall, murmuring words of affection to the little bundle.

  The second he was out of earshot, Liam, the oldest and usually quietest, leaned forward, making them all pause to listen for whatever pearl of wisdom he’d impart. “If Dad finds out that we’re actually placing bets on who he’ll date, we’re all dead.”