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“Oh, pifflesnatch.” Mary pulled a bottle of white wineoutofthefridgeandwaveditinVan’sdirection. “Want some before I make the omelet?”
He nodded.
“The corkscrew’s in that drawer.” She pointed with a tilt of her head as she reached into a cupboard for a pair of wineglasses.
He got up. Lancelot, who had been curled contentedlyacrossVan’sfootandaroundhisleg,whimpered at the interruption of his peace and serenity. He harrumphed his way over to his other love.
She greeted him nose to nose, staring into his eyes,asthoughtellinghimofthelengthandbreadth of her love. Lancelot’s irritation dissolved into happy bonelessness, tail sighing from side to side in slow adoration.
What ridiculous things to think. Dogs don’t fall in love. They wouldn’t demand canine conjugal visits for the rest of Lancelot’s life. Van wouldn’t have to see Mary while he pandered to his dog’s libido.
Lancelot stopped his looking of love and burrowedunderGuinevere’sfurryforelegtocurlagainst her massive chest. She whuffled her welcome and curved her leg around him.
On second thought, maybe these dogs had tumbled him into even bigger trouble than he had thought.
“Awww, look at them,” Mary cooed. “What the world needs now is lots more love like theirs.”
“What the world needs now is lots more people leaving each other alone, hanging a lot fewer albatrosses around other people’s necks.” Sheesh, that sounded even grumpier than he felt. He didn’t do frustration well.
Van poured the wine and placed hers on the counter, well out of knocking-over distance.
“Let’s ignore that for the moment,” Mary said. “Let’s talk about you bringing Lancelot over to exercise his visiting rights with Guinevere and with the pups.”
Van froze. He downed his glass of wine in a gulp. Lancelot picked that moment to raise his head and gaze at Van. He looked — soulful and imploring.
Ridiculous. A dog can’t look soulful and imploring. A dog was just a dog.
Van poured himself another glass of wine. He stopped short of the rim. Barely. Now he’d have to deliver a few bottles of wine to this woman too.
“Nothingtosayinthatconversation?”Maryasked. “Let’s go on to your lousy outlook on love. You see albatrosses when you’re looking at people in love? Even four-legged people in love? You can’t mean that.”
It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to tell him he had to let people in. You had to give to get. Aunt Cynthia, for one, was at him about it all the time. Look at the way his father had lived, she’d say. And died. All alone. Well, as far as Van could tell, his father had lived and died exactly the way he wanted to. Francis Van Deventer the Fourth hadn’t needed his sister. He hadn’t needed his son. He hadn’t needed anybody, and neither did his son.
“Sure I mean it. My aunt has been depending on me one way or another since my father died, since I was ten years old. Why wouldn’t I want to get her safely married off if I could?”
“But Cyn — You really want to get rid of her like you’re getting rid of Van Deventer Ventures?”
“Hold on right there. I’m doing right by the people there.”
“Okay. Yeah. They’ll do awfully well out of the deal you’ve made. Financially.”
Mary busied herself tearing lettuce into pieces. Tiny little pieces. Then she attacked a bunch of fresh herbs.
What did she have to be miffed about? At least she wasn’twieldingacleaver.Hedidn’thavetogetclose enough to her to take it away from her for safety’s sake.
“There’s just your aunt you still have to worry about?”
“Yeah, there’s still that. I mean her. I mean — ”
“You do have trouble distinguishing between people and things.”
“Heyyyy.”
“Still, I suppose you do always end up doing the right thing for people.”
What was he supposed to say to that? He guessed he sometimes did finally do what some people called the “right thing,” but it was usually the easiest way to get people out of his hair. If he didn’t help them stand on their own two feet, they’d keep needing him to prop them up. He’d had it with being needed. Nothing noble about trying to make sure he wasn’t.
Just like there was nothing noble about his growing carnal interest in the elf before him. But was it safe? That was the real question. Could he get a good, strong relationship going with her body while persuading her to keep her emotional tentacles to herself?
