No Breaking My Heart (26 page)

The jeweler produced a pedestal mirror. Placed it on the top of the case. He dropped his sales pitch. “I've had the locket for some time,” he admitted. “It's been admired by my clientele, but never fully appreciated. You've fallen in love with it, my dear. I believe it was meant for you.”

Halo thought so, too, but awaited Alyn's approval before making the purchase. The choice was completely hers. He'd make no further assumptions or mistakes with her. He stood behind her at the mirror, his face reflected with hers. The jeweler stepped aside, until they came to their decision. Halo took advantage of their moment alone.

He leaned close, kissed her on the neck, just below her ear. She shivered. “Beautiful locket, even more beautiful woman.”

She fingered the fragile chain. Sighed. Then gently flipped the clasp, and looked inside the locket. It was empty. Waiting for her to decide which pictures or mementos should fill the heart. She closed it.

She met his gaze in the mirror. “
If
you truly want to buy me something,
if
you persist in being engaged, then the locket seals our deal.”

He had one final concern. “Promise me you won't turn around and sell it at your shop after ten months. That you'll keep it, no matter what goes down between us.”

She turned to face him. “I won't ever part with the locket. I give you my word.” She kissed him then. Right in front of the jeweler and a newly arrived couple, looking at watches.

He eased back, nodded to LaMon. “I'm ready to settle up. She'll wear the locket.”

“I will get you the velvet bag and small box it came in, for when she takes it off.”

Halo left Alyn, and followed the man to the back of the store. “I want to order an engagement ring.” Halo kept his voice low. LaMon raised an eyebrow, questioningly. “Aquamarine, diamond circle.” The jeweler gave a discreet nod. “It's perfect for us—she just doesn't know it yet.”

LaMon's lips twitched, but he held back his smile. Didn't give a thing away. “Insured and delivered?”

Halo slid his wallet from the back pocket of his slacks, and passed the jeweler a Black American Express. “I'll pick it up tomorrow.”

“Very good.” LaMon extended his hand. Halo shook it.

Halo and Alyn left the store shortly thereafter. Happiness shone in her eyes, Halo noticed. Her heart was light. He was relieved. They stood on the boardwalk, gazing at the night. Laughter echoed to their left, as a group of people came through the door of Lavenders. The gourmet shop catered to the discriminating palate. Or so the sign read.

Halo tipped up her chin, asked, “Dessert?”

She was thoughtful. She looked through the window. “They specialize in sorbet.”

“I've only had it once, but I'm game.”

They entered through frameless glass doors etched with the letter
L
. The lighting was soft, and the French Mediterranean shutters were drawn against the darkness. Intimacy was served with the sorbet.

The hostess openly eyed Halo with interest and curiosity. Her gaze then touched on Alyn. She noticed the locket. “Lovely,” she commented.

“Engagement gift,” Alyn said softly.

“Lucky you.” Her tone was envious.

The lady seated them at a linen-covered café table. The chairs were an intricate white wrought iron. Big man. Small chair. Halo shifted twice, trying to get comfortable. A server arrived with tall, fluted glasses of sparkling water. No ice. The crystal made the water dance. She then set a sheet of lavender parchment paper before each of them. The menu curled slightly and was as thin and delicate as tissue paper. He debated holding the menu, afraid his large hands might damage the paper.

“Elegant,” Alyn murmured as she carefully ran her finger along the side and read the gourmet flavors. “Coconut-caramel, burnt sugarplum, cranberry-pear, and raspberry truffle. They all sound delicious.”

“Fancy.” He had no idea what else to say. He wasn't a fan of mixed tastes. He liked plain old vanilla ice cream. The occasional chocolate.

Their server returned. “Our three specialty flavors of the night are limoncello-mint, bittersweet chocolate-cherry, and white chocolate-chip mousse.”

Alyn's lips parted on a sigh. She lightly tapped one corner of the parchment with her fingertip. “They have a sampler. Four flavors of choice. We could try a little of each.” Her gaze was expectant. Hopeful. Tentative. Afraid he'd say “no.”

He reached across the table, took her hand, and twined their fingers. Reassured her, “Order a dozen samplers if you like.”

“I'll bring two samplers,” the server suggested. “Eight great tastes.”

“Perfect,” said Halo.

“Thank you,” Alyn whispered.

“For what?”

“For being kind.”

“I like being nice to you.”

“And I appreciate it.”

He had a history of doing what he wanted, when he wanted. He was doing his damn best to turn his life around. To think of others first. He stroked along the side of her hand with his thumb. “You could be nicer to me, you know.”

She pursed her lips, feigned confusion. “How so? Should I buy you an engagement gift, too?”

“Not jewelry.”

“Something personal?”

“You're getting warmer.”

“Possibly sexual.”

“On target.”

“No.”

Harsh. It had been worth a try. The mere thought of them having sex made his dick stir. Misbehave. The linen cloth only covered so much. He scooted his chair farther under the table. The pain of it all.

Alyn had the nerve to smile. They'd kissed several times, and she'd responded. Wholeheartedly. They would make love, he determined. Waiting wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The anticipation was killing him.

He was about to tell her so, when their sorbet arrived. The desserts came in small, frosted cut-glass bowls, placed on lacy ecru doilies. The portions were two bites. If that, Halo thought. He could easily eat the scoop in one. The spoons were sterling silver and tinier than a teaspoon. He felt like a giant at a doll tea party.

“Oh . . .” Alyn's eyes rounded. “Sorbet artwork. These are too pretty to eat.” She was reluctant to spoil the arrangement, but equally afraid they'd melt.

Halo watched as she sampled the burnt sugarplum. The scoop was sprinkled with lavender-colored sugar, and framed by slices of plum. More a woman's dessert than a man's.

He picked up the tiny spoon, forced to hold it between two fingers. He went with the coconut-caramel, rich with flakes of coconut and shredded caramel. The sorbet melted on his tongue. Not bad. Unfortunately, he couldn't lean across the table and kiss Alyn. He'd like to mix their sensually smooth flavors. He would suck her tongue deep into his mouth. Taste her fully.

She ate slowly, savoring every bite. Her eyes closed and she sighed over the raspberry truffle. She licked her lips. And Halo hardened. A second bite of his coconut-caramel did little to cool his libido. The sweetness reminded him of Alyn. The sorbet was satisfying, but not nearly as good as sex.

She eyed him from beneath her lashes. A sneak peek, as if she had something on her mind, but didn't know how to approach the subject. “So . . .” He opened the door.

“I need to stop at Old Tyme Portraits before you take me home.”

“For a cutout photo?”

“Don't ask, I'm not ready to tell.”

“Secrets, Alyn? Really? Between fiancés?”

“I want you to wait on the boardwalk while I go inside.”

“So many demands.” He was curious about her request, but he'd do whatever she asked. “Fine, I'll give you ten minutes.”

“It might take fifteen.”

He'd wait for her, as long as it took.

They finished their samplers. Alyn moaned low in her throat as she finished the last of the white chocolate-chip mousse. Her hips rolled on the chair. He swore she had a sorbet orgasm.

He paid, left a big tip, and they moved to the door. The hostess touched his arm as Alyn passed ahead of him. “Come back anytime.” What she meant was, “Come back
alone.
” He stepped around her without comment. The woman didn't see him as faithful. That bothered him a little.

They walked back the way they'd come. He held her hand. Kept her tight against him. They crossed Center Street, and the Barefoot William side of the boardwalk was ready to party. Shops remained open until midnight on Saturday. Energy charged the air. Laughter rose and fell like the tide.

Entertainment surrounded them. A unicycle troupe performed, riding everything from short cycles up to the tall giraffe. They moved forward and back, turning tight circles about Halo and Alyn, then making the bikes bounce in perfect unison. They had incredible balance. As did the stilt walkers and pogo stick jumpers.

Farther down the boardwalk, a magician turned a white straw into a red rose. He bowed and gave it to Alyn. The magic man's cape changed from navy to orange in the blink of an eye. Impressive. Halo slipped the magician ten dollars. He waved the bill on the air and it became a twenty. He'd doubled his money. Pretty cool.

They admired a caricaturist. The artist sketched in charcoal. A few quick flicks of her wrist, and she captured Alyn's likeness. Halo bought the drawing. For himself.

They reached Old Tyme Portraits just as a group was exiting, pictures in hand. Alyn slipped around them, entered. He wanted to peek in the window to satisfy his curiosity. Which would spoil her surprise. He lay low. Alone.

Until a blonde decided to keep him company. She split from her friends, approached him, hips swaying. She wore a belly shirt and low-rise jeans, flashing a lot of skin. Double-pierced navel. A tattoo of a middle finger etched her hip, with the words:
Flip-off
.

He knew the tat. He'd slept with her. After too many beers and a grinding slow dance. After an inviting smile and hearing she had an apartment within walking distance of the bar. He couldn't remember her name. She held no interest for him now. If anything, she made him uneasy. He didn't want a scene.

“Halo, hon.” Her hands went to his hips. She pulled him close. Her thumb flicked the tab on his zipper. He clasped her wrists. He didn't need her hand action. She stuck out her lower lip. Pouted. “I heard a nasty rumor that you were engaged.”

“Truth.”

“Shit.”

He released her. Expecting her to walk away.

She lingered. Walked her fingers up his chest. “We had an amazing night together. Any chance—”

He shook his head. Didn't let her finish. “Sorry, no.”

“You plan to be faithful?”

“So he says.”
Alyn
. She'd come up behind him.

Halo wondered how much she'd heard. If she even cared. Apparently, she did. She brushed his side, took his arm. Was competent, cordial. “I don't believe we've met,” she said to the blonde. “I'm Alyn Jayne. Halo's fiancée. Thanks for keeping him company while I was in the store.”

“Sharon Thomas,” said the woman. “I haven't seen Halo for a year.”

“Catching up on old times is always nice.” Alyn kept her voice even. “Did you need more time? Maybe have a cup of coffee? A beer?”

Sharon blinked, surprised and slightly confused by her invitation. Alyn was handing Sharon her man. “No,” she slowly said. “We're done here.” Sharon glanced one last time at Halo. “Good luck with this one. You're going to need it.”

“I'm aware.”

Sharon called to her friends, caught up to them.

Halo watched his past walk away.

Alyn came around to face him. “You dated her.” More a statement than a question.

“Not a date-date. We met at a bar. Spent the night together.” He was honest with her.

She tilted her head, eyed him speculatively. “She looks like your type.”

“What type might that be?”

“Hot, sexy, out to party.”

That might have been his type a month ago, but no longer. “I'm trying to get my act together.”

“Who you were isn't who you are now.”

“Not everyone sees the change in me.”

“Actions speak louder than words.”

“You handled Sharon like a pro.”

“We have a business deal, Halo. I'm holding up my end of the bargain. I'll assume there are more Sharons to come.”

He couldn't tell her how many.

He'd lost count a long time ago.

He had only one woman in his life now.

The one he planned to marry.

Twelve

I
t was Sunday morning, early, and people were gathering for the Dog Jog. The crowd was large at the starting line in the elementary school parking lot. With the firing of a cap gun, the walkers, joggers, and runners would proceed to Gulf Shore Boulevard, which ran parallel to the boardwalk and beach. Fans and supporters would line the sidewalks, cheering on the participants. The two-mile race finished near the pier. Trophies would be awarded, first through third place. There'd be canine treats and human snacks.

Alyn was as excited as she was apprehensive. Strapped in his wheelchair, Quigley stood on his front paws, his back legs secured in the stirrups, surrounded by all the other dogs. Number sixty, along with his name, was taped to the side of his handicapped cart. A blue bandana circled his neck, indicating he had a permanent home. A red bandana meant the dog was up for adoption. There were a lot of red bandanas.

Alyn held his leash loosely. She hadn't been sure how he'd react. He'd never socialized. Never had a playdate. Fortunately, he wasn't the least bit nervous. Only curious. He held his own.

“Ry-man, get a grip on Atlas,” Halo called to Rylan Cates. Ry was standing a few feet away, conversing with his sister Shaye, organizer of the event. Atlas had the full length of his leash to sniff out Quigs. The Great Dane had nearly inhaled the pug.

Rylan snapped the leash, but Atlas paid him no mind. Ry came to them instead. “He won't hurt Quigley,” Rylan assured them. “He's more interested in the wheelchair.” Which Atlas was now nuzzling, rocking, with his nose.

“No tipping him over.” Halo nudged the Dane aside with his knee. The big dog crouched down, wanting to play. He bounced left, right, barked. Then whined, until Quiggie responded. Not with a bark, but with a wag of his curly tail.

Alyn saw the quick, yet significant waggle. Had she blinked, she would've missed it. Her heart squeezed. She reached for Halo's hand. “Quigley's first wag since the accident.”

“Nice going, Atlas,” Halo relented. “He responded to you.” Atlas had more expressions than a cartoon character. He looked quite pleased with himself.

“Joggers, attention, please.” Shaye's voice boomed through a megaphone. “It's time to line up. Six rows across. Ten deep.”

The majority of the Rogues decided on the last two rows, near Halo and Alyn. Rylan and Atlas would lead off. Hometown boy and legendary dog. Landon and Eden joined them soon after. Their two dogs were leashed together. Landon greeted them with, “Meet Ruby and Obie.” The dachshund had her nose in the air, taking in every scent. The beagle was shy, and kept his head down. He tried to squeeze between Landon's sneakered feet.

Ruby would have none of Obie's hiding. She nipped his ear. Made unidentifiable sounds that only Obie could understand. He crept out in the open. She licked his face.

Pitcher Will Ridgeway and his Chihuahua Cutie Patootie found them next. “I'm betting six steps and you're carrying her,” Landon said to the pitcher, who held her now.

“Every time I set her down, she cries like a baby,” Will said. “She's easy to carry. She fits in my palm.” A metallic blue ribbon wrapped the dog's neck. A bandana would've swamped her.

“Zoo's late,” Halo noticed, as the left fielder sprinted onto the lot. An enormous Rottweiler was by his side. Another blue bandana.

“That's Turbo,” Landon said. “Zoo said he's a chewer.”

Turbo proved that fact shortly thereafter. Zoo came to the back of the pack. The dog was hooked to a leather leash; his teeth marks were visible all along the lead. The handle was worn thin.

“Sit,” Zoo instructed Turbo. The Rottie dropped down, only to pop back up. “There's obedience school in his future.”

“When did you adopt him?” asked Land.

“A few days ago.”

“About the time we got our two.”

“
We?
” Zoo was clearly in the dark.

“Eden and me.”

“Whoa, dude, I hadn't heard you'd coupled.” He cut his gaze to Halo. “Halo's got himself a woman. I'm wanting to meet his fiancée.”

“Zoo, Alyn,” was all Halo said.

“Your contest winner's sister? I should've known. You've been playing house for over a week now.”

Halo's eyes narrowed. His expression dark. A warning sign. “Careful, dude. I've known her longer than you think. Several months, actually.”

Zoo held up one hand, palm out. “I meant no disrespect.”

“None taken,” said Alyn.

Zoo took her in. A player fully checking out his teammate's choice in women. His gaze held on her breasts, until Halo cleared his throat. “I was admiring her locket,” he defended.

“My engagement gift,” Alyn said.

“No ring?”

“The locket was my choice,” she told him. “It's better than a ring. More visible.”

“Nice display case.” He referred to her cleavage. “What's inside?”

Alyn felt Halo tense beside her. His, “I just purchased it for her,” covered up the fact it might be empty.

“So . . . nothing?” Zoo was smug.

“Something.” Alyn broke her surprise. A careful flick of the clasp, and it opened. The inner gold rim circled two tiny photographs. One of her, one of Halo. Both photos were in profile, facing each other. A sepia shading aged the images. They looked as if they'd been in the locket forever. Very romantic.

She heard Halo release a relieved breath. His arm curved her waist, as he eased her back against him. He lightly kissed her on the lips, in front of everyone.

Zoo snorted. “Halo pictured in a locket? Never would I have believed it, had I not seen it.” He and Turbo moved one row ahead. “Away from the couples,” Zoo tossed back.

Halo whispered near her ear. “Where'd you get the photos?” he asked.

Alyn smiled. “From Eden, when we stopped at her shop. She took a lot of pictures at the bonfire. I was hoping she had one of us, which she could reduce to fit the locket.”

Eden smiled. “It took a few minutes, but we got the job done.”

“Just in time, too,” Alyn reminded him of Sharon.

“Thank you,” Halo's words encompassed both the photo and the save.

“Is everyone ready to start?” Shaye now stood on a ladder, scanning the group. “The Dog Jog route consists of one main street. The race ends when the last dog crosses the finish line.”

Which would be Quigs, Alyn anticipated. Halo wore the front carry dog pack over his Rogues jersey. He'd offered to give the pug a lift should his front legs tire. Two miles was a long distance for a handicapped dog. They'd do their best.

“On your mark, get set, go!” Shaye fired the cap gun. It wasn't loud enough to scare the dogs. Merely to get the race started.

Halo craned his neck, chuckled. “Our line has yet to move. Atlas and Rylan are half a block ahead of us. A standard white poodle is keeping pace with them.”

“Princess Pom-Pom,” Alyn remembered. “She wears a tiara, and toenails painted pink. She wasn't from the shelter. A much pampered poodle.”

“I'm hoping those dogs needing a home find one today,” said Halo, as they edged forward. He took her free hand.

Quigley was alert. Expectant. He tugged against his leash. His front legs churned. Using up all his energy at the onset.

They soon cleared the parking lot and passed through the barricades that sealed off the boulevard. No street traffic was allowed. Several shop owners opened their doors, looked out on the race. It was the perfect day for the event, Alyn thought. A comfortable seventy degrees, with a faint breeze. Not a cloud in the sky. Enormous evergreens lined the two-lane road. Ancient moss clung to the cypresses. Royal Poinciana trees grew on each corner, shading the runners. A crowd gathered along the route. A huge turnout.

People called to their favorites. Atlas's name echoed back to them. Midway through the race, Quigley faltered. He progressively slowed. He began to pant. Alyn debated pulling him from the cart, and letting Halo carry him. But just as she was about to do so, the call out to Quiggie began. Low-rolling voices that turned into a rumble, as loud as any stadium chant.

Alyn was so surprised, she tripped over her own feet. Halo was there to steady her. “What's happening?” she asked.

“Seems your boy has a fan club.”

The pug's ears twitched with the outpouring of his name. He came to a stop and listened. That's when Atlas appeared. Out of nowhere. Zigzagging through the joggers to reach them. No Rylan in sight. The Great Dane loped to the pug. Skidded to a halt. Ry showed a moment later, his expression set.

“Atlas slipped his lead,” Ry explained. “We were just yards from the finish line when he spun, circled back around.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Winning's not important to my boy. He was more concerned about Quigley.”

“We're getting there,” said Halo.

“We're not that far behind Landon and Eden,” Alyn noted. For every three steps forward, their beagle retreated one. Still, they remained in the race.

Atlas went belly-flat next to Quigs. He prodded the pug with his big nose. Atlas growled, but not menacingly. Alyn was certain it was his own canine encouragement. Atlas gave a lengthy rant.

Shortly thereafter, Shaye showed up on a bicycle. She held up her hands, questioningly. “What's going on? The Dog Jog has come to a standstill. All participants are holding back, not one jogger has crossed the finish line.”

Rylan was first to see the light. “They're waiting for Quigley.”

Alyn put her hand over her heart. “I'm not sure he'll make it.” Her voice was watery.

Halo pulled her close. “Quiggie's having muscle spasms. His back legs are jerky. There's energy sparking along his spine. Let him finish.”

The pug was straining, trying hard to use his hind legs. To straighten them out, only to have the muscles contract.

Quigley didn't wait for anyone's decision. His head and shoulders stretched, and he pulled the cart forward. Atlas nearly tromped him in his excitement. His bark became a howl.

They had a mile yet to go. Shaye pedaled ahead and, as they passed the other dogs, the participants fell in line behind them. Quigs moved from last to first in a matter of blocks.

Even Zoo, always out to win, acknowledged their progression. Begrudgingly. He curbed his Rottweiler, allowing them to go ahead. Could dogs smile? Alyn wondered. She swore Turbo grinned.

The cheers only got louder as they neared the end. Alyn's heart swelled. Her throat tightened. She spotted Danny and her mother on the corner, just beyond the orange tape that marked the finish line. Danny was jumping up and down. Her mother clapping like mad. Even Eleanor Norris banged the rubber tip of her cane on the cement. Poor Herman, Alyn thought.

Atlas allowed Quigley to break the tape and cross the finish line one paw ahead of him. Spectators rushed the pug. Quigs was mobbed. Atlas barked people back, claiming the pug as his friend, and no one else's.

“Share,” Rylan told the Dane.

Atlas grunted. A very rude sound.

Congratulations circulated. Alyn turned and gave Atlas a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered near his floppy ear. Atlas licked her cheek. Halo used the sleeve of his jersey to wipe away the wetness.

A photographer snapped their picture. Shaye and the director of the animal shelter handled the interviews. Halo and Alyn kneeled at the same time. She unstrapped Quigs, and he positioned the dog in the mesh backpack. They stood. People stopped, praised, and petted Quigley.

Danny and her mother worked their way to them. There were hugs all around. Shaye announced the trophy presentation. She requested the winners come forward. Quigley took first. Atlas, second. Princess Pom-Pom, third. Alyn gave Danny the trophy to hold. Her brother held it high.

“I'm cutting out,” Rylan finally said. “Any chance Atlas can get a playdate with Quigley once we return to Richmond?” he asked Alyn. “He lives with a golden and two dachs. A new friend might be nice.”

“Why not get together sooner?” asked Halo.

“Contest winners and their families will be returning home in three days,” Ry reminded him. “My schedule's maxed out at the moment. Local obligations. Once we get settled for the regular season, let's do it.”

“We'd like that,” Alyn agreed. “There's a park near our house.”

“Team meeting before practice tomorrow,” Rylan finalized with Halo. “Don't be late. Big hand on the twelve. Little hand on the eight.”

“Funny, dude.” He didn't smile.

“Do you often run late?” she asked him once Ry left.

“Not when something's important.” His gaze had narrowed. His jaw was granite. A muscle jumped in his cheek.

“What's wrong?” she quietly asked as they followed Danny and her mother to his Hummer.

“You're leaving?” came out tight.

“We have to go home sometime.”

“Danny and your mom, yes. You, no.”

“I need to return and set up shop.”

“I need you here.”

“We'll only be apart a couple of weeks.”

“Too damn long.”

“The best time for estate and storage sales is early spring,” she reasoned with him. “I don't want to lose out on great deals.”

“You already have a ton of furniture.”

“Not enough,” she affirmed. “The store is five times the size of my living room. I want to offer large and eclectic groupings.”

They walked half a block. His expression remained unrelenting. “Engaged couples spend time apart,” she appealed. “Women admire a faithful man.”