Rory was the opposite of quiet and meek, and she hadn’t fit in. As far as he knew, she’d left school after their junior year and had never been back. And after what she’d done to him, he’d told himself he’d been more than fine with that.
But it didn’t mean that he hadn’t worried more than a little bit. Or that he wasn’t aware of how hard it was for her to make it on her own, in San Francisco no less, a very expensive city. She worked at South Bark Mutt Shop and she also went to night school, and he knew she lived with a -couple of roommates and still barely made ends meet. He didn’t like to think about how she must struggle just to keep food in her belly. So no, he wasn’t about to take her damn gas money.
He’d just started pumping the gas when his phone buzzed an incoming call. Willa ran South Bark and was Rory’s boss. She was also the one who’d asked him to give Rory a ride to Tahoe, clearly having no idea that Max and Rory had gone to school together and had history. A bad history.
“How’s the ride going?” Willa asked.
Max leaned against his truck. “Well, we haven’t killed each other yet.”
Willa didn’t laugh.
“You know I’m kidding, right?” Sort of . . .
“Max.” Willa’s voice was quiet. Serious. “There are things I probably should’ve told you about Rory.”
“You mean about the chip on her shoulder?” he asked wryly. “Yeah, I’m aware.”
“She’s earned that chip, Max. The hard way.”
“And let me guess. You’re going to fill me in.”
“She’s smart, so smart, Max. She’ll fool you if you let her.”
He shook his head and hunkered beneath the overhang, trying to avoid getting snow in his face while he waited for his gas tank to fill. “What does that even mean?”
“She’s been with me for six years—-”
“Working in your shop, I know,” he said, impatient to get out of the snow, back in the truck and on the road.
“But what you don’t know is how she came to me.”
Actually, he did. Rory had pretty much ran away from home and—-
“It was late one night,” Willa said. “I was on a walk through the Marina Green when I found a girl in the park, sick as a dog from a drug someone had dumped in her drink.”
Max froze. This was something he didn’t know, although he wished he had because he’d have gladly hunted down the asshole who’d drugged her and he’d have—-
“I’m not telling you this to make you mad,” Willa said quietly. “I just want you to understand the chip.”
He let out a long, purposeful breath. “What happened?”
“I took her to the hospital, helped her recover from events that she can’t remember to this day, and gave her a job. But it wasn’t easy. It took her a long time to learn to trust me.”
Imagining what she must’ve suffered and reeling from that, Max couldn’t even speak.
“Basically, I bullied her back to life,” Willa said. “And lately she’s been really . . . okay. Even happy.”
Max knew this to be true. He’d seen Rory in the courtyard of their building, smiling and laughing with friends. He’d seen her with the animals in Willa’s shop, specifically with Carl, who loved and adored her. And the reason he kept seeing her was because in spite of himself, he’d been drawn to her and he’d made sure their paths crossed. Often.
Shit.
He peered inside his truck, expecting to see Rory hunched over her phone, but there was no phone in sight. Instead she had her head bent to his dog, who was in her lap. All 100 plus pounds of him, big head on her shoulder.
He went back to the overhang. “Why are you telling me all this?” he asked Willa.
“Because I know there’s something between you. A chemistry. We’ve all seen it, Max, the way you come by the shop with Carl for more groomings than you need, making sure to do it when Rory is there.”
“Maybe I just love my stupid dog,” he said, not happy to hear that he’d been that transparent when it came to his uncomfortable and complicated feelings for Rory.
“Oh, I know that’s also true,” Willa said smugly. “But that’s not why you tip her so much. Look, I can tell by your tone I’m annoying you, so let me make it count. I know that you’re trustworthy or you wouldn’t be working for Archer. I guess I’m just hoping you can also be . . . gentle.”
Max pressed his thumbs into his eye sockets. “Willa—-”
“I know. You’re big and badass and tough, and I get it, you don’t do gentle. But maybe, for Rory, you could try.”
Once again he looked in the truck. Rory was talking to Carl, smiling while she was at it. But once upon a time, not so long ago, she’d been hurt. Badly. And that killed him. Fuck. “Yeah. I guess I could try.”
He heard Willa suck in a breath clogged with emotion. “Merry Christmas, Max,” she said softly. “You deserve it.”
Actually, there was someone who deserved it far more and the hell of it was, it was the last person he’d expected it to be, and she was sitting in his truck hugging his big, silly dog.
Chapter Three
WHEN MAX OPENED the truck door a few minutes later and found Carl in his seat, he gave the dog a long look.
Carl hefted out a huge sigh and got into the back.