The Man Behind the Pinstripes

“Gertie was pleased with the result. She offered me a job taking care of her dogs, including the fosters and rescues, here at the estate.”

“And the dog skin care line?”

“She sprang that on me after I arrived.”

A look of surprise filled his eyes, but disappeared quickly. “Sounds like you’re a big help to her.”

“I try to be,” Becca said. “Your grandmother’s wonderful.”

“She is.” He looked at her. “I’d hate to see anyone take advantage of her kindness.”

Not anyone. Becca.

The accusation in his voice made her feel like a death row inmate. Each muscle tightened in preparation for a fight. The balls of her sandals pressed harder against the grass. She fought the urge to mount a defense. If this were a test, she didn’t want to fail. “I’d hate that to happen, too.”

The silence stretched between them.

His assessing gaze never wavered from hers.

Disconcerted, she fiddled with a thread from the hem of her shorts.

Caleb put his hand out to Dozer, who walked next to them. Funny, considering he’d ignored the dogs before.

Dozer sniffed Caleb’s fingers then nudged his hand.

With a tender smile, he patted the dog’s head.

Becca’s heart bumped. Nothing was more attractive than a man being sweet to animals. A good thing Caleb’s physical appearance was pretty easy to overlook given his personality and suspicions.

“You helped me with my grandmother,” he said. “Trying to get me out of the way?”

At least he was direct. She wet her lips, not liking the way he raised her hackles and temperature at the same time. “It’s obvious you don’t want to work with us.”

“I don’t have time,” he clarified.

“There’s never enough time.”

Dozer ran off, chasing a butterfly.

“It’s a valuable commodity,” Caleb said.

“Easy to waste when you don’t spend it in the right ways.”

“Experience talking?”

“Mostly an observation.”

Maurice, the Norwegian elkhound, approached Caleb. The dog could never get enough attention and would go up to anyone with a free hand to pet him.

He bent over.

And then Becca remembered. “Wait!”

Caleb touched the dog. He jerked back. A cereal-bowl-sized glob of dark and light hair clung to his hand. “What the …”

Maurice brushed against Caleb’s pant leg, covering the dark fabric in hair also.

Oh, no. She bit the inside of her cheek.

“This overweight husky is shedding all his fur.” The frown on Caleb’s face matched the frustration in his voice. “Enough to stuff a pillow.”

“Maurice is a Norwegian elkhound. He’s blowing his coat.” The guilty expression on the dog’s face reminded her of the time he’d stolen food out of the garbage can. She motioned him over and patted his head. This wasn’t the dog’s fault. Unlike Caleb, she was used to the shedding, a small price to pay for his love. “They do that a couple times a year. It’s a mess to clean up.”

“Now you tell me.”

His tone bristled, as if she were the one to blame. Becca was about to tell him if he spent any time here with his grandmother he would know about Maurice, but decided against it. If she lightened the mood, Caleb might stop acting so … upset. “Look at the bright side.”

His mouth slanted. “There’s a bright side?”

“You could be wearing black instead of navy.”

He didn’t say anything, then a smile cracked open on his face, taking her breath away. “I guess I am lucky. Though it’s only dog hair, not the end of the world.”

If he kept grinning it might be the end of hers.

Caleb brushed the hair away, but ended up spreading it up his sleeve and onto the front of his suit.

“Be careful.” She remembered he had to return to the office. “Or you’ll make it …”

“Worse.” He glanced down. Half laughed. “Too late.”

It was her turn to smile. “I have a lint roller. I can clean up your suit in a jiffy.”

Amusement filled his eyes. “I thought you liked dog hair.”

“Huh?”

“Your T-shirt.”

She read the saying. “Oh, yes. Dog hair is an occupational hazard.”

“Yet you keep a lint brush.”

“You never know when it’ll come in handy.”

“Do you make a habit of cleaning men’s clothing?”

His tone sounded playful, almost flirty. That made no sense. Caleb wouldn’t flirt with her. She rubbed her lips together. “Not, um, usually.”