Nicole Helm - All I Am

Even with the dog in tow, loneliness washed over her. She hated living alone. It gave her too much time to think, live in her own head, come up short.

Boo.

But Mia had moved out and none of her friends could up and move in. Cara’s only other choice was moving home with Mom and Dad, and with Anna headed off to college in the fall, Cara would rather be alone for years.

“Come on, girl.” She climbed the stairs to her front door and balanced the bin against it as she worked to get the key into the finicky, ancient lock. It made her think about Wes dropping the bin earlier.

He didn’t limp or look as though he had injuries that continued to be painful, but he had scars and had dropped something light. So, he was injured, and it was probably permanent.

And she was the jerk crying over a failed pie interview. Ugh.

Once inside, she knelt down and unclipped Sweetness’s leash. “You’re probably hungry and thirsty, aren’t you, girl?” She gathered the bin and went to the kitchen to fill up the dog bowls.

Man, Wes had thought of everything. She didn’t know how anyone could be that organized in some things and so disorganized in others.

She flipped the tap on and began filling the first bowl with water. Above the sink she had all Grandma’s pie tins displayed. Some days it was a comfort to have pieces of Grandma right there in plain sight.

On not-so-great days, it reminded her of the hole in her life since Grandma passed away.

She ran her finger over the edge of the starburst pie tin. Regret and failure lumped together in her stomach. “Sorry I suck so bad, Grandma.”

She cringed. She didn’t need a ghost to knock her over the head to know Grandma would not approve of Cara being so down on herself.

Whereas her sisters and parents beat around the bush of her failures, pretending she could overcome it, Grandma had refused to see it. Had given Cara a lot of crap anytime she dared pity herself.

Something about that reminded Cara of Wes.

“I have a bad feeling about your daddy,” she told the dog curled up on her couch. “He’s going to cause me trouble.” Which was something she normally thrived on, but something about Wes...

The gruffness, the scars, the blushing and stuttering. The way he hadn’t pitied her or made the crying worse when she’d first arrived. Just explained Phantom was a therapy dog.

For him. The last thing she needed was to get wrapped up in a guy who needed therapy. She was barely holding on herself.

She put the now-full bowls on the tile by the door, then settled on the couch. Sweetness sniffed the bowls, then hopped up next to her.

She felt broody. About everything. And, well, brooding was not her norm. Usually she went out to drink or laugh away any brooding, but today she was tired. Tired because she’d gotten up so dang early for the market, tired because she’d imploded at her interview and tired because everyone seemed to be a couple. Mia, her friends.

She hadn’t been on more than two dates with the same guy since Kevin. Oh, that one still burned a little bit. She had no qualms about casual relationships or even casual sex, but she had some serious qualms about being the girl a guy used to get back at his girlfriend.

Now fiancée.

Grr.

Sweetness crawled into her lap, and Cara scratched behind her ears. “Are you going to be my therapy dog, girl?” Sweetness licked her chin, and she couldn’t deny the fact that she might need it.

CHAPTER FIVE

“KNOCK, KNOCK!”

Wes tensed. Okay, he’d already been tense. He’d carried that tension around all morning, knowing Cara was going to show up today and invade.

He’d tended to the animals, worked out, showered and eaten breakfast, knowing that she would be all up in his space not just today, but three days a week, every week, for as long as she wanted or as long as he could stand it.

Her references had been mostly glowing. Cara was good at customer service. She was organized and dependable as long as she wasn’t tasked with too stressful of a project.

Those were the things he needed, and he didn’t have stressful projects because he refused to let stress into his business. The fact she interacted so well with his dogs helped. That, and you’d like to see her naked.

He snorted at his own inner monologue. Not gonna happen, buddy.

So, two weeks and a few phone calls after she’d offered herself up for the job, here she was. His assistant.

Without a response from him, Cara appeared in his office with Sweetness on a leash. A sparkly purple leash. Definitely not the one he’d packed in the loaner kit.

Then he saw the scarf.

“What the hell is that?” he demanded, pointing at the offensive swath of fabric.

Cara blinked and looked down at Sweetness. The scarf bandana thing around Sweetness’s neck was also purple, with pink-and-green flowers on it.

“Isn’t it cute?”

“No. It’s ridiculous. She’s a dog.”

“She loves it. Don’t you, girl?” Cara crouched, scratching Sweetness behind the ears. And, yeah, Sweetness seemed to like that, but he wasn’t sold on the scarf thing.

She popped back up to her feet. She was wearing skintight jeans and some oversize purple sweater thing that had big holes in it, but she seemed to be wearing a black tank top under it, so the holes didn’t show off anything important.

Seriously, there had been moments in time when he thought this would be a good idea?

“Thanks for letting me keep her the extra week.”

“Look, you can keep her. Period.”

Cara wrinkled her nose. “You can’t just give me your dog.”

“You bought her sparkly shit, and she clearly likes you better than me. Besides, you can bring her with you on workdays. It’s not like I don’t have enough dogs to keep me company, and she’s only mine because someone knew I didn’t turn away strays.”

“Wes.”

He already didn’t like the way she said his name. It gave him feelings he’d rather not diagnose at the moment. It was one of the great things about the army. Everyone said Stone or his rank in the same harsh bark. No emotion to discern in that environment. Just do your job right and no one gave you a hard time for being poor or shy or anxious or helpful or nice, either.

They needed to get on that professional, detached playing field. He gave orders. She followed them. The end. “Are you ready to work?”

“Oh! I almost forgot.” She shoved some papers out of the way and put her bag down on the spot she’d cleared. Carefully, she pulled out a big plastic container.

“I made you a pie.” She unclipped the clasps on the lid. “It’s kind of my version of a personality test.”

“Pie as personality test?”

She nodded, her lips a brightly painted pink smile. She lifted the lid with a flourish. “I give you octo-pie.”

Wes stared at the bizarre-looking pie. It was indeed an octo-pie in that the top of the piecrust had been fashioned to look like an octopus. A big lump of pie dough made up the body, while strips made up the eight legs. It even had eyes and a mouth cut into the crust. The pie filling looked like cherry and made his mouth water.

It was ridiculous and hilarious. He actually found himself laughing. Which somehow only made Cara grin wider.

“You pass,” she said happily. “You do have a personality under all that gruff I’m-so-tough beardy flannel.”

Any humor faded. He didn’t particularly want her to see him having a personality. This would be so much easier if he could be the silent soldier and she could...go about her business organizing him. His papers. Not him. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would.” Sweetness hopped up on the desk chair and began sniffing around the pie, so Cara put the lid back on. “Are you sure about me keeping her?”