Searching for Always (Searching For 4)

"I'm not a saint. I'm grateful I haven't fallen off the wagon with the smoking, but if you take away my coffee, I'll be institutionalized. This is not a gray area. It's make-or-break time."

He stared at her, the battle waging between them, and finally, she relaxed, her lips curving in a small smile. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes. I'll go to the store and get real coffee for you."

He studied her with suspicion. "Why did you give in so easy?"

She laughed that half giggle he already adored. "Because this is important to you. Stone, I know many of my choices seem weird to you. And I respect yours, too. I just don't want you stressed or sick or unhappy. That's all."

That's all. Yet it was more than he'd ever had before. Imagine a woman caring about him on such a level, beyond sex or a few laughs. The possibility dangled in front of him like a huge, juicy carrot, but he was no vegetarian and he knew the real deal. So Stone ignored it.

"Thanks. I better go." He turned to take off, but she called out his name. "Yeah?"

"Aren't you going to kiss me good-bye?"

Her honest question did him in. He took two big steps, picked her up, and kissed her thoroughly, senselessly, and with a deep satisfaction. He slid her back down to the ground, loving the wonderment and desire on her face as she looked at him.

"I'll come back."

She smiled. "Good."

He walked out with a lighter step, and a lighter heart.

STONE STARED AT THE dog. Frustration nipped at his nerves, along with something else. An emotion that bothered the shit out of him.

Guilt.

"I didn't leave you for long," he explained. Yes, he'd discovered a small yellow puddle by the door, but he didn't know what to expect with the house training. Arilyn had brought him an endless amount of supplies, from food, to toys, to treats, and even a pink doggy bed that looked ridiculous in his masculine house. At least he had a yard to offer, and since he lived a bit outside town, there weren't many neighbors.

Thank God, he hadn't invested in the carpeting, since he had a feeling Pinky would take a while to get her bladder on schedule. He'd walked her outside, and she'd done fine. He'd changed her water and given her food, which she'd actually eaten a bit of. But now she just sat in front of him, staring at him like she expected something.

"What is it you want?"

The catatonic distance had eased from her eyes, but she was still dead quiet, never barked, and seemed to slip in and out of that place in her head she lived in during the time of her abuse. Stone wasn't a dog whisperer, so he figured he'd just keep doing what he was doing and eventually give her to someone who could actually help.

Arilyn.

He glanced at his watch. After he showered, changed, and had some real bacon, real coffee, and real butter with toast, he felt energized. Figured he'd go back to her place and spend the next few hours before his shift.

"Listen, I gotta go back to Arilyn's. I'll swing by and take you out before I have to get to work though."

Pinky gazed back at him with sad eyes.

Fuck. "I'm not a dog person," he explained. "I'm glad you seem a bit better, but I'm not sure what you want. I can't bring you over there because she has a dog." Stone had seen Pinky turn into a shaking, growling lunatic when she got too close to another dog. Robert would give her a heart attack by his size alone. He strolled over, turned on the television, and clicked on Animal Planet. "See, you can watch TV. I'll keep a few lights on. You'll have a nice, relaxing day."

More staring. She never even blinked, just kept her serious gaze locked on his. Why wouldn't she grow hair? Those white tufts on top of her head made her look like a damn gremlin, and who knew skin could be a light brown color? When she opened her mouth to eat, her teeth poked out, looking razor sharp, but the overbite was just plain weird. It was as if her teeth weren't aligned with her mouth so her jaw jutted out. Most dogs he'd seen looked more normal. She was a little thing, too. But the sores had healed. She'd always be ugly as sin, but at least she would be healthy. And safe.

"Okay, so have a good day." Stone grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone. Walked to the door. Opened it. "See ya."

He glanced back. She didn't budge, but a slight tremor shook her body. As if by being left alone again, she'd be damaged somehow. Ridiculous. He was being an ass. He was leaving.

Stone shut the door and headed toward his car. Son of a bitch. He was going to have more great sex, go to work, and deal with the rat fink later. No way was a dog going to cramp his style now. No way.

He drove away with a roar of the engine, refusing to look back.

"WHAT THE HELL IS that?"

Devine stood on the curb, gaping at Stone as if he'd just announced he'd gone gay. He shifted the weight under his arm and glared. "A dog. What do you think it is? Get in."

They were outside the police station, ready to do a drive-by check. The early afternoon had been perfect. Ideal. When he returned, Arilyn greeted him at the doorway with no clothes, proving she had a secret bad girl inside he'd managed to spring loose. They'd spent the rest of the morning in bed, exploring all the ways he could make her scream, and he'd barely had enough time to get back to Pinky before racing to work.

Another small puddle greeted him along with a suffering, mournful expression of doggy unhappiness. Stone took the dog out, redid her water-food routine, and ripped out a new squeaky toy. Pinky refused to touch it. Just sat in the middle of the room, refusing to budge but asking for something he couldn't seem to figure out.

"See, this is why I don't have a dog," he offered, buttoning up his uniform. "This is also why I got a divorce. I'm busy. I don't know how to make you happy. I have to go to work and bring home the money. Do you understand?" Stone finished dressing, grabbed his stuff, and paused at the door. "I gotta go. I'll be back in eight hours and we'll spend some time together. Okay?"

Nothing. Well, what the hell did he expect? He was talking to a damn dog.

Frustrated and pissed off, he opened the door.

Then heard it.

Whimpering.

Stone turned his head. Pinky had dropped her head in full grieving mode. Body shaking, little moans of distress emitted from her mouth. A shiver raced down his spine. No. Oh, God, this was worse than a woman crying. He rubbed his hands over his face and prayed for it to stop. How could she go from isolated silence to codependency so soon?

"Don't. I can't take you to work. I drive in a police car and you'd hate it."

Pinky lifted her head and whined again. Took a few steps toward the door, cocking her head as if asking the all-important question. Can I go with you please?

"Absolutely not. You'll be fine. Hang out, take a nap, chew on a bone. I'll be back later."

He shut the door. A few steps toward the car, he stopped cold, listening to the eerie, sad whine of the dog. Crying.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He opened the door, grabbed the ridiculous pink collar and leash Arilyn had bought, and scooped Pinky up in his arms. The dog barely took up his whole hand, and immediately snuggled into the crook of his arm. Then Stone did the unthinkable, the impossible, and the insane.

He brought Pinky to work with him.

Devine was still staring in shock through the window at the dog sitting in the backseat. "That thing is a dog?" he asked in a high-pitched tone. "Are you kidding me? Trying to pull a practical joke? Is it real?"

Stone rolled his eyes. "Just get in the damn car, please, before the rest of the dingbats come out here. It's a Chihuahua."

Devine slid into the front seat, glancing back. "I know what a Chihuahua is, and that ain't one. Where's its fur?"

"Gone. Well, I called it Rat Fink, but Arilyn got pissed."

"Ah, now I get it! This is the one you tried to get me to take. You slept with her, and this is your punishment!"

"Shut up, Devine."

His partner belted out a laugh, shaking his head. "Thought you hated dogs."

"I do, but like I said,

this one was abused, and the shelter was crowded, and she couldn't take the dog because it has issues."

"Issues, huh? You two are perfect for each other. What's the rat fink's name?"

"Pinky," he mumbled. He winced, waiting for the inevitable.

"You're fucking kidding me."

Damned if he didn't feel a flush stain his cheeks. So humiliating. "No."

"Her collar is actually pink. I told you she's a foo-foo dog!"

"She's tough. Arilyn named her, for God's sake, not me. And she's only mine temporarily."

"Why does it have to come with us? Dogs are left home all the time."

Stone made a right and headed into the neighborhood where they'd nabbed Pinky. "I know. I tried. She was shaking and crying, and I was afraid if I didn't take her, something bad would happen."