The Man Behind the Pinstripes. Melissa Mcclone
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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.”
Something—interest or maybe it was mischief—flared in his eyes. “I’m honored.”
Nerves overwhelmed her. A guy like Caleb was nothing but trouble. He could be trying to cause trouble for her now. She took a deep breath. “Do you have other clothes with you? Getting the dog hair off your pants will be easier if you aren’t wearing them.”
“Easier, but not impossible.”
Becca pictured herself kneeling and rolling the lint brush over his pants. Her temperature shot up ten degrees. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can use the roller brush yourself.”
He grinned wryly. “My gym bag is in the car.”
An image of him in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt stretched across his muscular chest and arms rooted itself in her mind.
Wait a minute. Did he say gym bag? That meant he had time to work out, but no time to spend with Gertie.
Becca’s blood pressure rose, but she knew better than to allow it to spiral out of control. Judging him wasn’t right. People did that with her and usually got it wrong. Maybe his priorities had gotten mixed up. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.
“Go change,” she said. “I’ll put the dogs in the kennel and grab the lint brush out of guest cottage.”
“Using the guest cottage as your office?”
“I live there.”
His mouth dropped open. He closed it. “You live here at the estate?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The one word dripped with so much snobbery Becca felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on her head. He waited for her to answer.
A hundred and two different answers raced through her mind. She settled on one. “Because Gertie thought it would be for the best.”
“Best for you.”
“Yes.” But there was more to it than that. “Best for Gertie, too.”
Confusion filled his gaze. “My grandmother doesn’t lack anything.”
He sounded so certain, not the least bit defensive. A good sign, but still …
Becca shouldn’t have brought this up, but her affection for Gertie meant Becca couldn’t back down now. She wanted Caleb to stop blowing off his grandmother. “Gertie thought living here would make it easier for me to do my job without having to drive back and forth all the time. But I also think she wants me here because she’s lonely.”
“My grandmother lonely?”
The disbelief in his words irritated Becca. She’d realized this as soon as she got to know Gertie, yet her own grandson couldn’t see it. “Yes.”
“That’s impossible,” he said without hesitation. “Gertie Fairchild has more friends than anyone I know. She’s a social butterfly who turns down invitations—otherwise she’d never be home. She has the means to go out whenever she wants. She has an entire staff to take care of the house and the grounds. No way is she lonely.”
What Caleb said might have been true once, but no longer. “Gertie does have a staff, but we’re employees. She has lunch twice a week with friends. But she hasn’t attended any parties since I moved in. She prefers to spend time in her lab.”
“The lab is keeping her from her friends.”
“I believe your grandmother would rather spend time with her family, not friends.”
“You believe?” He grimaced. “My sister and I—”
“See her every Sunday for brunch at the club, I know. But since I arrived neither you nor your sister have stopped by. Not until you today.”
“As I said—”
“You’ve been busy,” Becca finished for him.
Caleb shot a sideways glance at the house. “All Grams has to do is call. I’ll do whatever she asks.”
“Gertie asked for your help with the dog care products.”
“That’s …”
“Different?”
A vein at his neck throbbed. “You’ve got a cush job living here at the estate. I’m sure my grandmother’s paying you a bundle to take care of a few dogs and prance them around the ring. What’s it to you anyway?”
He sounded defensive. She would, too. Realizing you’d screwed up was never easy. Boy, did she know that. “Gertie’s helped me a lot. I want her to be happy.”
“Trust me, she’s happy. But you have some nerve sponging off my grandmother, helping her with her wild dog-product scheme and then telling me how I should act with my family.”
Not defensive. Overconfident. Cocky. Clueless.
Caleb Fairchild was no different than the other people who saw her as dirt to be wiped off the bottom of their expensive