No Good For Anyone (2 page)

Chace and Bo, who had been competing all night, throwing jabs at each other in an effort to impress the girl – a dark-skinned brunette whose name Chace couldn’t remember – had looked at each other in shock, neither one of them used to losing out when it came to women. They’d ended up leaving the party and breaking into the campus basketball court to play a late night pick-up game with a few other friends.

They’d been like brothers ever since. Which is why Chace listened when Bo told him he needed help. But Bo knew that there was only so far he could push, and after everything his friend had been through, Bo conceded there were things Chace needed to do, and if that involved random women in the bar, then so be it.

Bo started making the daiquiri, and Chace took a sip of his soda and looked up at the TV. The Red Sox were in the playoffs, no thanks to their pitching. Chace used to be a diehard fan, used to spend summer nights at Fenway Park, getting up early on game days and looking online for last minute tickets. He’d buy six or eight at a time, rounding up his dad and a bunch of friends to go with him.

The thought of those days made the back of throat burn, and he looked away from the television. He wasn’t going to think about summers. And he wasn’t going to think about Lindsay Benson.

All he was going to think about was the blonde at the end of the bar, the blonde who had gotten her drink and was now giving him a big smile.

Chace picked up his soda and moved to go and sit next to her.

C
hapter
T
wo

Lindsay was in the bedroom of her new house, looking out the window and thinking about Chace Davenport. About how he was living next door, and how he apparently had no idea who she was.

Her first thought had been to move. It would be easy. She could put her house right back on the market and could probably even get her old apartment back. She knew for a fact that it hadn’t been rented yet. And all her things would still be packed! She’d load them right back onto the truck, drive right back to Boston, and move right back in.

But then she’d started to get angry. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway?

Not even remembering who she was? Coming over and yelling at her for putting some garbage bags in his bin? Who did that? Assholes, that was who. Of course, she’d already known he was an asshole. But being faced with it again, right there, on her front porch, caused her anger to flame red hot.

She wasn’t going to leave this house! She loved this house. Or she would, once it was set up. It had always been her dream to have a little house on the Cape, doing her writing from the middle of nowhere, and now she was going to have it! And she wasn’t going to let Chace Davenport screw it all up. She’d wasted enough time on him.

Feeling strong, she set her laptop up on her nightstand. She had electricity, but no internet or cable, so for now, her only entertainment was going to be books and DVDs that she could play on her computer. She decided she wanted to watch something that was anti-men, something with a message about female empowerment, like Waiting to Exhale.

She was looking through her box of DVDs, the one box she’d made sure to keep track of, when she heard scratching at the back door. She froze with one hand on Thelma and Louise, the other on Breakfast at Tiffany’s. The scratching came again, this time followed by a whine.

It sounded like a wild animal of some sort. A beast that had come to break into the house. She’d been warned about mice and deer, had been expecting them even, but she hadn’t been told about anything that might start scratching at her back door. Could it be a raccoon?

She got up and moved to the back door, then took a deep breath and peered out the window. There, sitting on her porch, looking up at her forlornly, was a dog. He had a tan coat and dark eyes, and he was whining. When he saw her, he sat down and looked at her hopefully, his tail swishing back and forth on the steps.

Lindsay hesitated, not sure what to do. He looked harmless enough, but what did he want? What if he was a stray? What if he bit her and she had to go to the hospital and get all kinds of different shots to keep from getting rabies?

She looked at the dog, who rolled over on his belly as if to say, “I’m harmless, please, let me in!” She squinted at him, then reached for the light switch. But of course the bulb outside was burnt out.

The dog was rolling around on its back, and Lindsay thought she could make out a few ribs. What if he was hungry? What if he’d been traveling for miles without a good meal, just living by his wits, and if Lindsay tossed him out, he’d end up back on the road, not knowing when he’d be able to ravage up a few scraps?

Or worse, what if he ended up at Chace’s house? Chace would throw him out into the woods for sure. It was this thought that finally made her open the door.

As soon as she did, the dog scampered in and ran right by her and into the kitchen. He got to work sniffing through her boxes.

“Oh,” she said. “Um…” Her instinct told her to tell him to stop, but she wasn’t sure if she should. He was a strange dog after all, and while he seemed nice enough – his tail was wagging as he poked his nose around in her things – she didn’t want to startle him. “Hi, dog.”

He ignored her and continued his sniffing.

She made her way slowly to the refrigerator and pulled out a package of pepperoni. It was one of the few things she had in the house, a misguided attempt at buying things at the store that were low-carb and could travel well. But trying to start a diet while you were moving was just setting yourself up for failure, and so she’d ended up eating doughnuts this morning with her sister Jamie.

“You want some pepperoni, boy?” she asked. She held out a piece of pepperoni, and the dog came over and gobbled it hungrily. Poor thing. He was probably starving.

He wasn’t wearing a collar, so there was no chance of him having any tags on. She sat down on the floor of the kitchen and held more pepperoni out. The way he was eating was making her heart break. Who knew when the last time was that the poor thing had had anything to eat?

She wished she had something more substantial to feed him, but right now this was all she had, unless he wanted a glazed doughnut. She opened the Dunkin’ Donuts box that was on the stove and pulled off a piece of pastry.

“Do you like doughnuts, boy?” she asked, holding it out. The dog put its snout up to Lindsay’s hand and sniffed, then took the piece of doughnut and wolfed it down. It sat down and wagged its tail, apparently excited and waiting for more.

A dog who liked carbs! It was an animal after Lindsay’s own heart! She gave the dog another piece of doughnut and then a tentative little pat on the head. The dog’s tail sped up even more. He liked being pet.

Suddenly, Lindsay wanted to keep the dog. She had a mental image of getting up early, taking the dog for long walks on the trails behind her property, throwing a ball while the dog frolicked and jumped around, barking happily as it splashed through ponds and ran through brush.

She’d always wanted a dog. Her mother was always saying how they were too much responsibility, but honestly, how much responsibility could they be?
Children
were allowed to have them, for God’s sakes. Besides, Lindsay worked from home as a romance writer. It would be nice to have the company.

Of course, first she would have to try to find the dog’s home. Maybe she’d put up posters or something. She had a feeling he was a stray, though. He looked a little skinny.

The dog’s ears perked up as the sound of a car driving down the road came through the kitchen. He immediately ran to the front window and put his paws up on the sill, looking out and giving a small bark.

He was already protecting the place as if it were his own! How adorable!

Lindsay ate a piece of the doughnut in her hand. It was settled. She was keeping him.

***

The blonde’s name was Michelle, and she was a giggler. Everything made her laugh. Chace knew she was a bad idea almost as soon as he’d started talking to her. The daiquiri had been the first red flag, and he should have followed his instincts. Following his instincts had never steered him wrong.

But she was here now, in his truck, giggling away at everything he said as he brought her back to his house.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was gorgeous, that much was sure. Long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, flawless skin. She wore a turquoise halter top and a tight black miniskirt that left little to the imagination.

“This is your street?” she giggled. “Don’t you get scared living out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“Not really,” he said. “I like my alone time.” It was a thinly veiled hint that she shouldn’t get any ideas about hanging around tomorrow, expecting him to make her breakfast, or to take her out for coffee and entertain her. It was much easier when you went back to the woman’s apartment, but Michelle was visiting here from Chicago. She was here in a hotel, with her friend, who had called dibs on the room.

On the other hand, Michelle would be going home soon, thousands of miles away where Chace wouldn’t have to worry about running into her at the store or having her email him asking when she could see him again.

He pulled into the driveway.

Michelle giggled.

He cut the engine.

Michelle giggled.

He sighed.

“Nice house,” she said.

“Thanks.” He was pleased in spite of himself. The house
was
pretty amazing. It was a two-story, but it looked taller because the ceilings were so high, which was extremely rare for a house built on the Cape during the fifties. There was a turret on one side, with a newly shingled roof. The grounds were immaculately kept, with red roses he’d planted himself. He worked in the garden every morning in the summer, before heading off to the restaurant. Mornings were hard for him. He liked it better when it was dark out, and he found the physical labor of gardening to be a good distraction.

He stepped out of the car. Michelle was still sitting in his truck. He waited a moment, but she didn’t move. Jesus Christ. She expected him to open the door for her, like they were on a fucking date.

Before he could decide whether or not to do it, a familiar bark came from the side of the house. He turned, expecting to see Maximilian standing in the rose garden.

But there was nothing but darkness.

Chace turned back to the car, but the bark came again. It was definitely Maximilian. But where the hell was he?

And that’s when he saw the dog. He was in the window of Lindsay’s house, his little tan face pressed up against the glass, his mouth open, his pink tongue hanging out.

Chace’s fists clenched at his sides. What the hell was Maximilian doing over
there?

Leaving Michelle to her own devices, he marched across the lawn and pounded on Lindsay’s front door.

She opened it a moment later, and when she did, Chace’s breath caught in his chest. Jesus Christ. Lindsay was wearing a short red nightgown. It wasn’t the kind of thing that was meant to be overtly sexy, but Lindsay’s curvy body filled out the tight little thing just right. The top of her breasts peeked over the material, and the bottom just skimmed her knees. Her long chestnut hair fell in loose, tousled waves around her shoulders, like she’d been tumbling around in bed before he got there. Her full lips arranged themselves in an O of surprise when she saw him standing on the porch.

The numbness he’d experienced when he’d seen her before had dissipated, and now all he felt was searing desire. It wall he could do not to grab her and pull her toward him, kissing her and running his hands up under that short little nightgown.

“Oh,” she said, her look of surprise turning to one of annoyance. “It’s you.”

“Who else would it be?” he asked, pushing by her and into the house. “It’s ten o’clock and I’m the only one who lives around here.” He took a moment to let his eyes linger on her long legs, the soft curve of her hips, the swell of her breast. “Unless you were expecting someone?”

“No, I wasn’t expecting someone,” she hissed. She held the front door open, waiting for him to walk back outside. “And you’re not allowed to just come barging in here anytime you want. This is my house.”

“You might want to shut that door,” he told her. “You’re letting in the mosquitoes.”

“Get out.” She opened the door wider.

“Or?”

“Or…I’ll call the police.”

He laughed. “And what will you say?”

“I’ll say that you broke into my house!”

“But I didn’t. You invited me in.”

“No, I didn’t. You just barged in.”

“You opened the door.”

“Yes, because I didn’t know who you were!” She grabbed a sweater off the back of the chair in the kitchen and wrapped it around herself. He tried to hide his disappointment.

“Wow,” he said, looking around. “What a mess.” The whole kitchen was filled with boxes, the only furniture a rickety looking wooden table with one lonely chair. He’d been in the house before, of course. But when he’d seen it, it had been empty. It had almost looked better then. When it was empty, you could imagine the possibilities. Now it just looked like a rundown house with a bunch of boxes of junk all over the floor.

“I just moved in,” she said defensively.

“I know. You put your garbage in my bin, remember?”

“My sister did,” she corrected him. “Now what the hell do you want?”

What he wanted, he realized, was to strip her naked and have his way with her.

Hell, he didn’t even have to have her in the bedroom. He would have been happy to take her right here, right now. He’d lay her down on the table, let his hands get lost in those loose curls, his mouth get lost in her curves.

“I came,” he said, “for my dog.”

***

“Your dog?” Lindsay repeated, her heart sinking. Her stray actually belonged to Chace? That seemed impossible. The dog was so sweet, and Chace…Chace was so…

not
sweet.

Maybe that’s why it had run away.

“Yeah,” he said. “My dog, Maximilian.” As if on cue, the dog ran over to Chace and started licking his hand. “Apparently, you stole him.”