No One Like You (17 page)

His dog had moves, Ry thought. Beth was considerate and wouldn’t disrupt his sleep. They could be sitting there for a while—which appealed to him. He had a night off, for once.

“I love your artwork,” Beth said softly. She kept her voice low, as if savoring the moment. “The painting is so . . . you.”

He took a moment and studied it. She had imagination. “Evelyn said she had me in mind when she painted the abstract. Where am I in the painting? A curled wave?”

Beth settled deeper into the couch cushion, leaned her head back. She was relaxed when she said, “You’re the broken surfboard.”

He blinked. “That’s how you see me?”

She laughed at him. “Are you seeking a compliment?”

A little ego stroking never hurt. A man liked to know a woman saw him in a good light. “A kind word wouldn’t hurt.”

“Vital.”

“What?”

“I gave you a word.”

She was teasing him. He wanted more. “Vital, huh?”

She gave him what he wanted to hear. And more. “I took an art appreciation class in college years ago. A spiral is one of the oldest geometric symbols. Some consider it the symbol of a man’s spiritual journey. An evolutionary process of learning and growing. Your life path passes the same point over and over again but from a different perspective. The spiral stands for coming into being.”

A deep perspective,
Rylan thought, but one he understood. He leaned forward. Rested his elbows on his knees. He kept his gaze on the painting as he asked. “The curled waves?”

“They curve tightest at the highest peak,” she noted, “protecting themselves against the break. Man often hides within his own identity. Not letting others see his inner self.”

He could identify with that. He was serious most days, even when he was the most relaxed. “The surfboard? Fence?”

“My speculation only, but the fence is old, weather-beaten. That often represents the past. The broken board, a part of your life you’ve given up for something better.”

Baseball was the better. He’d thought about professional surfing in his teens, but there’d been no security in the sport. No matter how much time went by, he’d never been able to shake the baseball glove from his hand. He played to his strengths. He could live without surfing, but not without America’s favorite pastime.

He liked how Evelyn saw him. How Beth did, too. His assistant had depth. Her interpretation pleased him. It was inspiring. But then so was she.

She stroked Atlas’s shoulders without conscious thought. The big boy was content.

Ry straightened slightly, asked, “Where did you study art?”

“Barnard College.”

New York City.
He’d never have taken her for big city. She appeared smaller town. Someone sheltered. Perhaps he’d misjudged her. Education was another piece to Beth Avery’s puzzle.

He leaned back, stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. Atlas began to snore. The dog’s muscles flexed, and he gained another few inches of couch space, pushing Beth flush against Ry. One more push by Atlas and she’d be sitting on Rylan’s lap.

Her color was already high.

He felt her heat. Breathed in her scent. Fresh and feminine. He liked their closeness. “Comfortable?” he asked her.

She shifted slightly. “My leg is damp. Atlas is sleep-drooling.”

“He must be dreaming about food.”

“I’m guessing so. It’s almost dinnertime.”

Moments later, Rue and the dachsies’ stomachs growled. The golden retriever crossed the room and nudged Atlas with her nose. The Dane came out of a dead sleep, nipped her gently, then rolled off the couch. They all headed into the kitchen and sat down before the stove.

“Guess that’s my cue.” Beth stood up. Her skirt had stuck to her bottom and thighs, and she shook it out. Stomped her feet for circulation.

“You want help?” He’d gladly pitch in.

“Thanks, but no. I need to earn my paycheck.” She hesitated, then added, “You could always join us. We could talk in the kitchen.”

He would like that. The sofa suddenly felt too big and empty. Atlas had taken up most of the space, but it was Beth’s presence he missed most. They’d connected over his painting.

He took a stool at the island counter. “What are your plans for tonight?”

“I’ll be finalizing your picnic. How about you? There’s nothing on your schedule.”

A free night.
“Do you need me for something?” he asked.

“Maybe . . .” Her back was to him as she stood before the refrigerator, choosing vegetables for the canine chicken stew.

Atlas had his face in the door, sniffing. He was attracted to the paper bag with her candied apple on the second shelf. She moved the apple to a crisper drawer. Out of sight, but not out of mind, the Dane stared a hole in the drawer until Beth closed the door.

She glanced over her shoulder, spoke to Ry. “Just a thought, that’s all. Your dogs need to be bathed, so they’ll smell nice for your weekend guests.” She looked away. Baths. It was the part of her job that she’d been avoiding, possibly even dreading.

He wasn’t going to let her off the hook, but he could compromise. “I’ll wash Nathan and Oscar in the laundry room sink. Rue’s easy to do. Outside with the garden hose. The water runs warm. You can do Atlas.”

“Or you could do Atlas and I’ll take the other three.”

“Or not.”

“I’ve never bathed a dog.” She wasn’t whining, merely clarifying her position.

“There’s always a first time. Atlas will show you how it’s done, once he’s had dinner.”

“I bet he will,” she mumbled.

“Wear your swimsuit. You’re going to get wet.”

 

Rylan had finished bathing Rue. She smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d toweled her off in the laundry room, and she stretched out on the porch beside the shampooed dachshunds.

He handed Beth a leash, a bottle of aloe vera shampoo, a stack of towels, and the hose. “Go for it,” he said. He stood off to the side and watched.

The bath went downhill from there. She should’ve leashed Atlas first, that was her initial mistake. Instead, she set the shampoo bottle on the ground near the hose and draped the towels over the fence, only to have the big dog pull them down and run off with all three. She went after him. Atlas shook them, tore one in half, before giving them up. When she went to retrieve the shampoo, a strong spray blasted her backside.

Beth was drenched. Head to toe. Atlas was trotting around the backyard with the hose between his teeth. He’d triggered the plastic spray gun. Water came down like rain.

Atlas continued to prance around her. Water shot out the corner of his mouth. His ears flopped wildly. He made sure he’d soaked her. She didn’t have a swimsuit. She’d changed into a tank top and cutoff shorts. She was barefooted. The grass was slippery.

Atlas went on to pull the garden hose the full length of the yard. He now ran through the puddles. Beth took hold of the hose and tried to reel him in. She tugged, and he pulled back.

It was a tug of war she couldn’t win. The Dane was too strong.

Frustration rose. The only way to get to Atlas was through his stomach. “Treat?” she called out. He’d recently eaten dinner, but there was always room for an organic biscuit.

Atlas skidded to a stop, as she had hoped he would. He came toward her, watering the yard along the way. She happened to glance at Rylan. His Rogues T-shirt and jeans were dry as he comfortably leaned against a metal fence post. His arms were folded over his chest; one ankle crossed the other. He looked relaxed, as if he was enjoying himself. He was far too amused.

She wanted to turn the hose on him.
Live and learn,
she thought.

She lassoed Atlas with the leash when he got close enough then removed the spray gun from his mouth. She momentarily had control. She needed to make the most of it.

Surprisingly, once he’d calmed down, Atlas didn’t mind his bath. He didn’t like having his ears washed. He fidgeted when she did his paws. She sprayed him off, toweled him down. She tickled his sides, and he got wiggly.

Atlas needed a nail trim. That was a two person job. She turned to Rylan, hoping he would help her. “Nail clippers?”

Ry was reluctant. He ran one hand down his face. “I usually have a veterinary technician clip them.”

“He could easily scratch someone. We’re here now.”

“Let’s give it a try.” Ry entered the house, returned with a pair of clippers.

Atlas eyed Rylan with suspicion. He began shifting.

“Treat,” Beth whispered near his ear. To Ry she said, “I’ll sweet talk him. You do the trimming.”

Rylan bent down on one knee. He white-knuckle gripped the clippers and started with a back paw. “What’s the worst that could happen?” he mumbled.

They soon found out. The Dane angled his head down, tracking Ry’s moves. He didn’t like his feet being touched. He kicked out like a mule, barely missing Ry’s balls. He then threw back his head, popping Beth in the face.

Pain hit her hard. She staggered. Her eyes watered. She saw stars.

Her low moan brought Ry to his feet. He dropped the clippers and gently tipped up her chin. Atlas nudged her hip. He didn’t understand what had happened. He started whining.

“It’s okay,” Beth reached out, patted him on the head.

Atlas wasn’t satisfied. He jumped up, his paws on Ry’s right shoulder, supporting himself. He looked Beth in the eye, whined again, and tried to lick her face.

“Not now, buddy.” Ry rolled his shoulder, nudging him down.

Rylan cupped her face and gently ran his thumb over her left cheek. Down her nose, across her jaw. Concern darkened his eyes. “No flatness to your cheek,” he noted. “No blood in the side of your eye. Any visual issues?”

She blinked. “A little blurry, but not bad.”

“Can you move your jaw?”

She could shift it with minimal pain.

“I’m not a doctor, but I’ve witnessed sports injuries. I don’t think anything’s broken,” he concluded. “But you’re going to have a shiner.”

“It could’ve been worse,” she managed. “He could’ve broken my nose.”

Ry leaned forward, spoke low. “He broke mine when he was a puppy. Jumping up unexpectedly. Fortunately, it healed well. No bumps or scars.”

He kissed her on the forehead; tried to make her feel better. “Let’s get some ice. Otherwise your cheek’s going to swell.”

“The hose, shampoo, and towels?” She didn’t want to leave them behind.

“I’ll pick them up once I’ve taken care of you.” He wrapped his arm about her shoulders and led her toward the house.

Atlas followed them inside, still whimpering.

“I need a shower and change of clothes,” she said in the kitchen. She was soaked to the bone. Goose bumps rose. She felt chilled, despite the warm evening.

“Clean up and come back. You can stretch out on the couch.”

She headed to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. The knob soon rattled. Twisted. A faint click, and Atlas peeked in. He didn’t charge her as was his usual manner. He stood with his head down.

Beth dropped on her sofa bed. Her cutoffs dampened the sheet. She didn’t care. Atlas came first. She patted her thigh. The Dane padded to her. He sat at her feet. Rested his chin on her knee. She scratched his ear. “You have a hard head, big guy. It was an accident. I’ll live.”

The low rumble in his throat sounded like an apology.

She hugged him. He leaned hard against her as if he was hugging her back. She stood slowly. “Shower time.” She left Atlas sitting at the foot of her bed.

She took a quick shower. Her head ached and her cheek throbbed by the time she finished. One look in the mirror, and she sighed. A bruise covered her entire cheek and the lower rim of her eye. She looked like she’d been punched.

She dried off, wrapped a towel around herself, returned to her bedroom, and tripped over a deflated football. She kicked it aside, took in the floor. Her heart hitched, then warmed. Atlas had brought her his toys. They were scattered from the door to the dresser. Tug toys, deflated balls, a thick rubber Kong, a wooden barbell, and so many more. She didn’t have a free inch to step.

He lay in the doorway, looking at her, awaiting her reaction. Tears backed her eyes. He was being generous, offering his playthings. She picked up the red Kong, held it to her chest. “I feel better already,” she told him.

He barked a deep, happy sound. His tail wagged. She laughed.

A knock on her door brought Rylan to her room. He scanned the floor. “My boy is
really
sorry,” he mused. “I’ve never gotten more than two of his toys. You’re definitely special.”

“I feel special,” she softly returned.

He lifted his gaze, taking in her bare feet, exposed thighs, up to her shoulders and face. Her hair was wet and subdued. For the moment.

She wasn’t embarrassed, standing there in her towel. It was Ry’s look that confused her. He stared intently, as if seeing her for the first time. She didn’t look her best, yet he didn’t seem to care. He rubbed his brow as if trying to clear his head.

She broke the moment, saying, “Atlas, I have something for you, too.” She went to the top drawer on the dresser and removed two socks. They were black and blue, just like her cheek.
Howl with Happiness
was scripted across the toes. Stuffing one sock inside the other, she made him a sock toy. “Be gentle,” she told him, then offered her gift.

Atlas sniffed, nuzzled the socks with his nose. He took them in his mouth and trotted off. He had his bounce back.

“Hopefully he won’t swallow them,” she said as an afterthought.

“He won’t,” Rylan assured her. “Trust me, he’ll have those socks long after you’re gone. He’s a pack rat.”

You’re gone
. She would be leaving. That was a given. There was no permanence with Rylan Cates. Still, the thought was unsettling. She waved him out. “I need to get dressed.”