Rescue My Heart Read online

  Rescue My Heart

  Avery Ford

  Copyright © 2017 by Avery Ford

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For Ann Attwood - thank you for always being there for me. xo

  Contents

  Description

  1. Dmitri

  2. Arthur

  3. Arthur

  4. Dmitri

  5. Arthur

  6. Dmitri

  7. Arthur

  8. Dmitri

  9. Arthur

  10. Dmitri

  11. Arthur

  12. Dmitri

  13. Arthur

  14. Dmitri

  15. Arthur

  16. Dmitri

  17. Arthur

  18. Arthur

  19. Dmitri

  20. Arthur

  21. Dmitri

  22. Arthur

  23. Dmitri

  24. Arthur

  25. Dmitri

  26. Dmitri

  27. Arthur

  28. Dmitri

  29. Arthur

  30. Dmitri

  31. Dmitri

  32. Arthur

  33. Dmitri

  34. Arthur

  35. Dmitri

  36. Arthur

  Epilogue - Dmitri

  Afterword

  Also by Avery Ford

  Description

  Arthur Jessup is running out of steam. In his final year as an undergraduate, he’s been working himself ragged keeping up with the demands of work and school and the serious business of What Comes After Graduation.

  Dmitri O’Hannahan has never really had anyone to depend on. Up until a few months ago, he’s been the primary caretaker for his family, allowing his mother to spend her final months of life in comfort. Dmitri isn’t sure how to relate to humans - the Malinois dogs he raises are much easier to understand and relate to. He’s got trust issues a mile wide, and it doesn’t help that some young, starry eyed kid has decided to make him persona non grata at his only real social outlet - the Locust Hill Shelter.

  When Arthur comes into enough money to allow him to take a step back from his busy schedule, he decides to fill the void by volunteering at his local animal shelter. But finding out that the brooding, if deliciously handsome, Dmitri breeds and sells dogs rather than just adopting them leaves Arthur with a bad taste in his mouth that not even Dmitri’s illicit kisses can transform.

  1

  Dmitri

  The bitch, Annie, stood proudly at Dmitri’s side, head held level to the ground and her eyes set straight forward. Dmitri glanced her way from the corner of his eye, but otherwise kept his head stationary and his shoulders back and straight. Proper posture was important not just for her, but for him, too. She fed off his body language, and he would not have her relax just yet.

  Even outside of the ring, eyes were on them.

  It was their third appearance together at the indoor all-breed American Kennel Club rally in Tunbridge, Vermont, and an important appearance at that. Annie, Dmitri’s stunning AKC registered Belgian Malinois, was a serious contender for AKC champion. She wouldn’t be the first of Dmitri’s dogs to win the title, and he had extremely high hopes for her. She’d already won two majors — a score of three, four, or five points depending on how many dogs were in attendance — with five point scores, and if she could pull of another five point score today, the title would be hers.

  Appearances were everything.

  “All Belgian Malinois bitches bred by exhibitors are asked to report to the ring for gait assessment,” a calm voice said over the loudspeaker. Dmitri’s ears perked, and he stepped forward with his left foot. Annie, who’d been trained to follow at his side upon that prompt, stepped in time to his movements.

  They entered the ring and took their marked spot together.

  Other breeders, visiting from out of town, stood at attention upon their own marked spots, their bitches at their sides. Dmitri could see just one of them without turning his head — a pretty mahogany colored Belgian Malinois with impeccable breeding. She was well muscled and solid without being bulky. Annie had her beat, but she was an impressive creature regardless.

  If they didn’t score well on gait, he knew he could very well lose his chance at best in breed.

  Stay calm and collected. I’m going to do just fine. How many times have I done this before? I’ve got this in the bag.

  With a deep breath, Dmitri stood tall and proud. He was ready.

  “Exhibitors,” the voice over the intercom said. “The judges are now ready to make their assessments. Please direct your bitches into a gait.”

  Dmitri and Annie moved in unison. He led with his left foot, and she followed like a dream. Dmitri maintained the half-jog necessary to get Annie to the right speed, and they made their way around the ring on the heels of the mahogany bitch and her exhibitor. Annie was fluid muscle and elegant grace, never once falling out of line or stumbling clumsily. They were a perfect team.

  Dmitri took care of his dogs well.

  Five full rotations later, they came to a stop at their designated spot. Dmitri kept his head forward, and Annie responded in kind. The adrenaline helped him ignore the way his lungs burned for air. He wanted to breathe in deep and pant, but he didn’t dare break decorum.

  We can do this. I know we can.

  “Assessments for breed standards and temperament will begin shortly. Exhibitors, please hold your positions.”

  Dmitri’s excitement built. Annie was doing exceptionally well, and he was proud of her to a fault. From the corner of his eye, he remarked the judge enter the ring and start her individual assessment of the bitches brought for confirmation. It wasn’t long before she arrived before Dmitri and Annie. Beneath her tweed jacket with pronounced shoulder pads, the judge was a portly woman Dmitri recognized as Erin Berger. Her eye for detail was critical, and she often judged harshly.

  You know you want to advance us. You know you do.

  “Good morning, Mr. O’Hannahan,” she said politely.

  “Good morning, Judge Berger,” Dmitri said in return. “Annie is ready for your assessment.”

  “Very well.” Erin took note of Annie’s features from above. She twisted her head this way and that, stepped back and squinted, and scribbled things onto the clipboard she carried. When she was satisfied with her general overview, she crouched beside Annie and checked some of her more subtle traits — the firmness of her body, the life in her eyes, and the shape and state of her teeth.

  “Mmm,” Erin murmured to herself. Dmitri overheard every word. “Very pronounced square form. Tremendous depths. Very solid.”

  All positives. On the inside, Dmitri celebrated. On the outside, his face remained an emotionless mask.

  Erin lifted Annie’s tail, then examined her ears. She was testing for temperament, Dmitri knew. To his delight, Annie didn’t so much as twitch.

  “Wonderful.”

  Dmitri thought so, too.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less from a bitch of O’Hannahan stock.” Erin stood. She offered Dmitri a polite nod, then moved on to make her next assessment.

  Dmitri beamed on the inside.

  It was no surprise when Annie won best bitch, then, after a new round of assessments, best of breed.

  It was a surprise when Annie emerged from the herding classification as the clear winner, and an even larger surprise when, standing amongst the best of the best, she placed as best in show.

  Annie hadn’t only won the five points required to become champion — she’d slain her competition. />
  “Congratulations, Mr. O’Hannahan,” Erin Berger murmured as he stepped up to receive Annie’s title. “You breed remarkably fine dogs.”

  “Thank you, Judge Berger,” Dmitri replied.

  Another of his dogs had made it, yet despite the pride he felt, there was something hollow about the win, too. Dmitri did his best to push the feelings aside, but it ate at him through the closing ceremony and well into his drive back to the kennel he owned and operated.

  What was it?

  He parked outside the kennel and rolled his shoulders back, stiff from the drive. Rollins, Vermont, was an hour’s drive from Tunbridge. He’d taken the roads slowly even though he had Annie strapped into her dog seatbelt in the back. It had given him time to think.

  The strange, empty itch inside of Dmitri wasn’t new. He’d lived with it on and off his whole life, but tonight, while the radio played and the wind breezed by his cracked car window, it had hit him harder than before. It was a kind of dread, he realized — a low burning anxiety that distilled in his stomach and spread up through his chest — but without knowing its cause, he had no idea what to do about it.

  Dmitri unbuckled, then went to unclip Annie from the back. She waited for him patiently, her brown eyes looking up into his, her tongue lolling from the side of her mouth. He scratched her behind the ear, then invited her to jump down with a wave of his hand. She listened, circled his feet, then came to sit at his side.

  They entered the kennel together.

  Dmitri didn’t keep many dogs. The ones he raised, he raised with love and care. The money he made on selling award winning purebreds was nice, but his true passion was in seeing his dogs reach their full potential. Each of his Belgian Malinois was gifted in his or her own way, and he loved the relationship of trust he built with each of them.

  Before he’d flicked on the light, Dmitri came to a stop. The thoughts echoed in his head, suddenly illuminating exactly what the problem was.

  A relationship.

  He was lonely.

  Dmitri turned on the light and led Annie to the kennels. The four other Belgian Malinois he kept there all rose when they heard him enter, padding to the front of their enclosures to come greet him. Not one of them barked.

  “Hey guys,” Dmitri said. He regretted how empty he sounded, almost like he was about to tear up. “You ready for a run in the back?”

  Five tails — Annie’s included — wagged enthusiastically. Dmitri eased the door to each kennel open and let the dogs out, and he led them to the back door and out into the fenced off dog-run he’d built.

  All five of them took off running.

  Annie raced ahead and sprung into the air as Jagger nipped playfully at her tail. Poindexter raced in circles around the gate at top speed, ignoring the others. Voss and Lily snapped and growled playfully at each other, their energy palpable on the air. Dmitri took a seat on the bench by the door and watched as they ran and played.

  Raising animals brought him joy, and volunteering at the animal shelter gave him purpose, but no amount of puppy kisses or championship titles could compare to the feeling of a genuine, intimate human connection. He watched Poindexter race clumsy, carefree laps, oblivious to his brothers and sisters, and tightened his lips.

  For a long time now, Dmitri had run in his own solitary circles. He’d dodged companionship when it came his way. All his life, he’d been devoted to raising dogs and seeing them achieve their full potential.

  In doing so, he’d limited himself without even realizing it.

  With a sigh, Dmitri sank back against the wall and let the back of his head meet the siding. Before he had time to slump his shoulders, a wet nose found its way into his palm. He looked down to find Annie nuzzling him. The other dogs had come to check in on him, too. They must have sensed his emotions on the air.

  “You guys go do your thing. We’re going to go to bed soon,” Dmitri told them.

  They did not go.

  Dmitri shook his head and scratched Annie behind the ear. She sat and thumped her tail for him, far more laid-back than she’d been at the rally.

  “I’m fine,” he promised. “I can take care of myself.”

  Poindexter circled around the group and hopped up on the bench beside Dmitri. He settled down, nose resting on his paws. Once he was in position, the other dogs backed off. It looked like they’d designated their babysitter.

  “I can’t believe I’m being consoled by dogs,” Dmitri murmured. The center of his palm was wet from where Annie’s nose had been. He rubbed it into Poindexter’s fur, and Poindexter rolled onto his stomach and thumped his tail in return. He liked the attention. “You can go, you know. You’re not responsible for keeping me company.”

  Poindexter didn’t budge. He folded his paws over his chest, totally at ease.

  Dmitri couldn’t help but laugh. It was short-lived, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

  Note to self: find someone to make you feel less lonely so your dogs don’t take pity on you.

  If he could raise championship dogs from puppies, he could find time to make himself happy, too. It couldn’t be all that hard.

  Right?

  2

  Arthur

  Arthur showed up for class still wearing his work uniform, and he didn’t realize it until Dr. Halifax shot him a questioning look and lifted an eyebrow. Arthur froze, then looked down at himself. The black polo shirt embroidered on the breast with the Pizza Hut logo gave him away.

  He folded his arms on the desk and sank his head down into them, too exhausted and embarrassed to do anything else. Why couldn’t it have been one of his electives he’d embarrassed himself in? Why did it have to be genetics, right smack dab in front of Dr. Halifax?

  Arthur wished more than ever that he could sink through the floor and disappear.

  It wasn’t that he liked Dr. Halifax. In fact, the thought of any kind of attraction between them made him shudder. Dr. Halifax was one of his father’s dearest friends, and over the years, Arthur had come to respect and love him much in the same way he would an uncle. Now that Arthur wasn’t on speaking terms with his parents, having Dr. Halifax around made him feel a little less lonely.

  Both Dr. Halifax and his wife were insanely wonderful people, and Arthur was so glad they hadn’t so much as batted an eye when he’d come out last year.

  As Dr. Halifax lectured about phenotypic traits, Arthur did his best to mask his embarrassment and tried to set mental measures in place to dodge embarrassment after class ended. Should he play it off like wearing a work uniform to class wasn’t a big deal? It was probably for the best. The majority of the students in his class came from upper class families, and he doubted they’d ever had to work a day in their life. Maybe they wouldn’t notice.

  He hoped that was the case.

  In the future, even if he was brain dead from lack of sleep, he made a note to stop in the bathroom before class to make sure he looked presentable. Everyone already thought he was the strange kid in the group, and he wanted to do everything in his power to keep himself from sticking out more than he already did.

  As Arthur laid with his head in his arms, his phone vibrated. It buzzed against his ass from his back pocket. He tugged it free and checked what was going on. His best friend, Quip, had sent him a text.

  You okay??

  Arthur turned his head and looked across the lecture hall. Quip sat on the far side of the room, his eyes facing forward, but his mouth tight with concern. His muddy blond hair was windswept, and he wore an oversized hoodie that hid an average, bordering on athletic body.

  Arthur replied.

  So tired. Gonna die. Worked opening until half an hour before lecture, raced across town for class, then I need to go back until closing.

  It wasn’t long before his phone lit up with another message from Quip.

  Pretty sure Dr. H is going to hand out some psets for us to work on. You should come over so we can work on them together and talk. If not, you’re gonna stay long enough after class t
o talk to me real quick.

  Arthur sucked in a breath.

  Okay.

  Quip wasn’t named Quip because he kept his opinions to himself. In high school, Quip had been the kindhearted class clown, and Arthur — the shy, awkward kid — had fallen into an easy friendship with him. It meant that most of the time, Arthur was spared from being gently made fun of. The trade-off was that Quip was often honest to a fault.

  Whatever was on Quip’s mind, Arthur had a feeling he wasn’t going to like hearing it.

  Psets — problem sets — were passed out. Dr. Halifax distributed them to the front row, and the packets made their way to the back of the room. Once they were distributed and the class started to dissolve into group work, Arthur collected his things and headed across the lecture hall to sit with Quip.

  As soon as he sat down, Quip pushed a stainless steel travel mug in his direction. “You look tired as fuck. Drink some coffee. I want you at least semi able to hear what I have to say.”

  “Whatever it is, is it important?” Arthur asked. “Do I have to hear it now?”

  “Yup.” Quip scribbled his name on the top of his pset and clicked the lead of his mechanical pencil down a few times. He tapped it gently against the packet to lock the lead in place. “So take a drink, shake off your jitters, and get ready.”