No, he had this. And the last thing she wanted to do was squelch Christian’s enthusiasm and chatter.
“I’ll get your cookies and milk,” Andi called. “Chocolate chip today.”
“Can Jag have one?”
“No,” Liam answered instantly. “No chocolate, ever. No table food. I brought him food. Christian, let me show you…”
His words faded as the two of them entered his room and Jag barked a few times. Andi stood stone-still at the bottom of the steps, her whole being still humming from the day, the changes in her life, the troubles in her world, and the unknowns she faced.
She liked things clear and defined and, like the architect she was, had created a blueprint for her life that had both form and function. With Christian as her plumb line, she had sketched out an existence that might be a tad lonely for a thirty-five-year-old woman, but was certainly satisfying in every other regard.
And suddenly that house was shaken to its very foundation, with walls crumbling and the whole structure threatened.
Which was always what happened to her life. Draw your plans and watch them get torn apart by some unexpected storm of change. Pregnancy. Jeff. Death. Now this.
The uncertainty of life rocked her, scared her, and made her long for something that would be dependable. Like Liam.
No, no, no. Like Christian. Her child was dependable. Liam was…doing a favor.
Heading into the kitchen, she set out a plate of cookies and a glass of milk, listening to the unusual sound of Christian’s nonstop talking, followed by Jag’s occasional bark, and then Liam’s baritone in short, calm sentences of instruction.
For a moment, she leaned on the counter, closed her eyes, and let this new normal roll over her. A dog, a man, a happy child. A moment of domestic bliss.
All obtained under false pretenses, like building a house on shifting sand.
A single bark from a few feet away shook her out of her reverie as Jag led the way into the kitchen.
“Jag!” Liam called. “Setzen!”
“Setzen!” Christian echoed.
Jag sat, almost immediately, at strict attention, but it was obvious the smells of the kitchen and the floor intrigued him.
“Is he never allowed to just be a dog?” Andi asked.
Liam exhaled softly. “Not until he knows that this is his workplace. If we relax and let him dog-out for an hour, we risk him thinking of this as a resting place.”
“Dog-out.” Christian repeated the phrase with a grin that showed the gap from the tooth he’d lost a few weeks ago. “Is that the secret code word, Liam?”
Liam laughed. “No. But all you need to know is how to keep him at attention. Go ahead, do it.”
Christian nodded, standing in front of the dog. “Jag, achtung.” The German word rolled off his lips, and Jag obeyed by looking right at Christian the way he looked at Liam.
“Why are they trained in German?” Andi asked.
“Schutzhund training started in Germany, with German shepherds. It’s always done in German, which is handy since the vast majority of bad guys don’t know it. Some people train these dogs to compete and always use the German commands. I only train them to protect, but stick with the proper language. Christian, by the way, is a very fast study.”
Andi beamed at the compliment. “He is bright,” she agreed.
Liam notched his head toward the back door that led to a small patio. “This is completely enclosed, right?”
“Yes. Do you want to see?” Andi twisted the dead bolt lock so he could go out to the grass and small patio, which wasn’t more than forty square feet, but had a vine-covered wall and shrubs to offer complete privacy from Bushrod Avenue that ran along that side of the house. “The wall is high for security, and there’s a little grass that Jag can use for a bathroom.”
“Good, but step out there with me now.” He angled his head for her to go first. “Alone.”
She glanced at Christian, who was at the table gobbling cookies. “I’m sorry you can’t eat chocolate, Jag,” he said with a mouthful. “But I can’t eat dog food, so we’re even!”
“They’re okay alone together?” she asked Liam.
He nodded. “They’re going to be just fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
Her? “Christian, stay here with Jag. I’m going to show Liam the patio and grass.”
“Where Jag will poop?”
She closed her eyes. “You’re eating.”
“But Jag will have to go potty, Mommy. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t,” she said on a smile, stepping outside, a little unnerved by Liam’s serious expression. Whatever he wanted to tell her, he wasn’t happy about it.
He closed the door firmly behind them, leaving the two of them alone on the stone patio that was only big enough for a chair, a chaise, and a small table, but fine for her to sip a glass of wine late at night after Christian had gone to bed.
Despite the afternoon sun and flowering bushes that surrounded the area, the space felt very small as Liam joined her.
“I saw a woman outside and didn’t like the looks of her.”
She drew back. “Was it Nora?”
“I don’t know. It could have been, but she was wearing a cap and had blond hair, which might have been a wig and she was pushing a baby stroller that sure looked empty, but I couldn’t be positive.”
“Oh.”
When Andi’s shoulders relaxed a little, Liam added, “And appeared to be taking pictures of your house.”
“Oh my God.” She put her hand over her mouth. “I’m so glad we have Jag.”
“As of tonight, you’ll have me, too. I’m staying here. I’m sorry, but I have to.”
She started to respond, opening her mouth, but nothing came out as she tried to process about ten different reactions to this announcement. Where would he sleep? What would Christian think? And, of course, why was he so damn sorry?
“I think that’s a good idea, but all I have is a pullout in my office. You won’t be comfortable.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said.
“And I guess it’ll help, you know, cement the impression that we’re getting married.”
Jag barked a few times, and Christian’s giggle could be heard through the closed door. “We’re going to have to tell him,” Liam said.
“We?”
“You don’t want to do it alone, do you?”
She puffed out a breath. “I don’t want to do it at all.”
He flinched a little. “Yeah, I know. Why don’t we spend some time training Jag? We’ll go across the street to the square and let Christian get more comfortable with him. And with me. We can tell him later.”
“I promised him we’d order pizza for our first school night.”
He studied her for a second, the hint of a smile curling his lips.
“What? You expect that I cook every night? That’s probably in Nora’s formal complaint, too. Not enough home-cooked meals made from scratch.”
“That’s not why I’m smiling.”
“Then why?” she asked.
“Pizza on the first day of school? That’s kind of an epic mom move.”
The unexpected compliment warmed her. “I better be epic, or I’ll lose him.”
“Not going to happen, Andi.” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and guided her back inside, opening the door to another peal of laughter. “And as long as Jag’s around, I don’t think Christian cares who’s staying here.”
But she did. She cared a lot. Too much, maybe.
Chapter Nine
“Can I know the secret code word now?” Christian asked the question for the, oh, twentieth time that afternoon and evening, this time as he pulled a gooey piece of pizza from the box.
Did Andi really think this boy was shy? Across the table, Liam glanced at her, noticing how much her expression changed when she studied her son and how her eyes lit up when he made conversation with ease. The kid had certainly been doing that the whole time they??
?d trained Jag in the square and while they waited for the pizza delivery.
“Not yet. Jag has to know you’re the same as me when I’m not around.”
“Can we do more leash-training tonight, Liam?”
He considered that, knowing Christian was still struggling with the leash since Christian weighed a little less than fifty pounds and Jag was at least seventy-five pounds of solid muscle. But the dog was tired, and Andi and Liam had something important to tell Christian. “We could, but—”
“Okay.” Christian tossed the pizza slice back in the box. “I’m done. Let’s train. Jag! Achtung!”
They heard Jag jump to attention from his resting place at the bottom of the steps, his nails tapping on the hardwood floor as he came closer.
“You’ve created a monster,” Andi noted.
“Kind of what I do for a living.” He put a hand on Christian’s narrow shoulder. “He does need to get some rest. So tell him to sit and stay there in the corner, but we worked him pretty hard today. He needs to stay awake all night.”
Christian’s eyes, as blue as his mother’s, widened, and he nodded solemnly. “Patrolling the house is his job.”
“Absolutely,” Liam agreed. “Every dog has to know what his job is, and that’s his.”
“Just like yours is to finish your dinner,” Andi reminded her son, putting the slice back on his plate.
When Jag came to the table, Christian delivered the commands like a pro, and Jag obediently followed his orders.
“Nice work,” Liam said to both of them.
“We’re a team.” Christian grinned and picked up the pizza slice. “So I should know the secret code word.”
Liam chuckled. “You are persistent, I’ll give you that.”
“What’s persist…persis…” He looked at his mother.
“Persistent,” she said, enunciating the word. “It means you don’t know when to quit.”
A little frown formed on his forehead. “I don’t like to quit.”
“That’s a very admirable trait,” Liam said. At the child’s confused look, he added, “The fact that you don’t like to quit is something you should be proud of.”
He felt Andi’s appreciative gaze on him, but Liam looked down at the cheesy pizza on his plate instead of into her eyes. She had no idea how it affected him when she let her guard down or looked at him like she actually cared for him.
It was like the first rung up the ladder to Misery Slope. He wasn’t going to fall.
“So I won’t quit asking.” A laugh bubbled from Christian. “What’s the code word?” He practically screamed the question, a mouthful of pizza threatening to fly.
“Christian,” Andi chided with a hand on his arm. “We’re at the dinner table. And we eat with our mouths closed. Without talking until there is no food in our mouths.”
He looked a little chagrined, but his eyes still sparked with humor, and Liam could tell that softened Andi’s heart as her own smile peeked out.
“Maybe Liam could explain why we can’t know the code word,” she suggested. “I’d like to know that myself.”
Liam wiped his mouth with a napkin, nodding and taking a sip of water. “Because that word is an order that makes him stop whatever he’s doing, no matter what it is. And he will, if you say it. But then, if he doesn’t think he was supposed to follow your commands, the code word would make him attack.”
“Attack me?” Christian asked fearfully.
He purposely didn’t answer so as not to scare the child. “By the time we’re finished with training, and we are close, he will never hurt you or your mom, or anyone you tell him is a friend. But he would hurt someone who is trying to hurt you.” He leaned a little closer. “Even if that person knows the secret code word.”
“Okay.” Christian nodded and glanced at Jag as if he couldn’t even imagine that dog attacking. But Liam had worn out two bite sleeves training him, and he knew better than anyone what Jag was capable of. “Tell me tomorrow?”
Liam laughed. “Yep, persistent.”
Andi shifted in her seat and let out a sigh that Liam knew signaled that it was time. “We do have something we want to tell you tonight, though, honey,” she said.
“’Kay. Is it about Jag?” He gave a grin, baring that tooth gap that he’d already demonstrated could hold a straw. “’Cause if it is, I already know.”
“You do?” she asked. “I doubt that.”
“We’re keeping him, right?” He looked from one to the other with expectation in his little face. “He’s mine forever, right? He doesn’t have to ever leave?”
Andi let out a soft sigh.
“You have to test him out for a while and be sure he’s right for you,” Liam said quickly.
“He’s right for me!” He whipped around to look at Jag. “He’s my best friend ever in the whole world.”
“Christian,” Andi said. “We have to see. He’s a very expensive dog that Liam trains for thousands and thousands of dollars.”
Liam started to tell her that didn’t matter, but instantly read her expression. She needed an out.
“And we could always adopt another dog that needs a home,” she added quickly. “They have those at Waterford Farm, too.”
“That’s where I work,” Liam added. “We have lots of dogs.”
Christian’s whole body looked deflated, making Liam feel bad, so he could only imagine what Andi was going through. Disappointing a kid sucked.
“I don’t want another dog.” Christian spoke so softly, Liam could barely hear the words. “Jag is my best friend.”
For a moment, no one said a word. Liam’s instinct was to insist that they keep the dog, ten thousand dollars be damned, but he didn’t want to overstep his bounds. He waited for Andi to respond, but her gaze was on Christian, and the light had gone out of her eyes.
“Everyone needs a best friend,” she finally said.
Christian nodded, silent.
“Even I need a best friend,” she added, giving Liam a quick glance that he had no trouble interpreting. Here we go.
“Yeah. ’Kay.” Christian started to fidget, clearly ready for dinner and conversation to be over.
“Sometimes people have best friends who live in their house,” Andi said.
“Uh huh.” Christian looked hard at his mother. “Like their dog.”
Oh man, she walked right into that one. Liam smiled and lifted his brows, silently asking her for permission to step in.
“Please,” she whispered. “I’m making a mess of it.”
Liam leaned forward. “I have an idea,” he said, not quite sure where the idea came from, but it was a start. “How about you meet all of the dogs at Waterford to be one hundred percent certain Jag is the one you want to keep forever?”
Christian looked skyward, like even the suggestion that he wouldn’t want Jag was lame. “Okay. But he is.”
“And while we’re there, you can meet my whole family. My dad and my grandmother, my brothers and sisters. We all work there with the dogs.”
“Do you live there?” he asked.
“No, I have my own house.”
“Do you have your own dog?” Christian asked.
“No, I don’t have one of my own. I have many dogs at Waterford Farm. Would you like to meet them all? And my family?”
Giving a little shrug, he nodded, clearly not impressed with meeting the Kilcannon clan or alternate dogs. But Liam plowed on.
“I think you’ll like them so much you’ll want them to be your family, too.”
He heard Andi’s slight intake of breath, making him sure he’d blown this, but he didn’t take his eyes off Christian. His pulse kicked up as he neared the moment of truth telling.
“Sure.” Christian slipped to the side of his chair. “Can I take Jag up to my room for a while?”
“Not yet,” Andi said, putting a hand on his arm. “I have something important to tell you.”
“What?”
She swallowed and looked at Liam, n
othing but fear in her eyes. What a damn shame that she hated this fake marriage so much it literally pained her to tell her son. Oh, he knew she was worried about the short-term impact on him, but if it could be long-term…
Stop it, Liam.
“Liam’s going to stay here tonight,” she finally said, her voice rough, as if that was all the truth telling and long-term she could handle. “For Jag,” she added. “Just in case there’s a problem.”
Christian’s eyes narrowed at Liam, the look of a person much older and wiser than his few years. “I can’t keep Jag because he’s your dog. Isn’t that why? Because you won’t ever let him go, and that’s why I can’t have him. You want him at your house because you don’t have a dog.”
“No, I…no,” Liam said, feeling a little lost by the six-year-old logic. “We need to make sure he’s the right dog for you, and it is a good idea to have him—and me—stay here.”
“Because you won’t leave him.”
The statement struck Liam as so odd and so full of deep emotion that he reached over and put his hand on Christian’s silky blond hair. “I know a lot about dogs,” Liam said. “If he’s the absolute right dog for you, then you two belong together, and nothing can stop that. He’ll be yours forever and you’ll be his. That’s how it works, I know that.”
Christian’s face paled a little as he stared at Liam. “You’re wrong,” he whispered.
“Christian,” Andi said. “That’s not polite.”
He closed his eyes as if polite didn’t mean a thing to him, slid off the chair, and snapped his fingers at Jag like he’d been doing it since the dog was born. Without a word, he walked out of the room and up the stairs.
Liam let out a breath, surprised at how far off the mark that conversation had gone. “I guess I blew that,” he said.
Andi shook her head and rested her chin in her palm. “It’s everything I feared. The reason I won’t get involved. And probably a really, really bad idea.”
“What is?” he asked.
“This pretend marriage. Can’t you see that his biggest fear is a disappearing act? He doesn’t believe in forever any more than I do, and who can blame him? Now I’m going to drag him to a ‘wedding’ and tell him you’re moving in with your beloved dog, and then, wham, we win this and…”