His tenderness and rationalizations nearly cracked the heart that Agnes liked to deny she had. She turned to Finnie, pleased to see her gaze had warmed a bit as she observed him.
“’Tis all right, lad,” Finnie said. “I have another pair at home.”
He looked up at her with shockingly intense eyes, a shadow of pain and surprise and maybe distrust in them, as if he, too, expected discipline. “I can repay you. I don’t know how, but—”
“I know how,” Agnes said. “You are officially part of our team. You and Tor and…” She smiled at Finnie. “The Dogmothers.”
“The Dogmothers?” His lips hitched in a half smile.
“Hi, Lucas!” The dynamic duo returned, Mira pulling Gala by the collar.
“Hey.” He scowled at her. “Don’t drag a dog like that.”
Instantly, she let go of the collar, and Gala scampered back to Agnes, who scooped up the little doxie and stroked her head lovingly. “Good girl, Gala. Sorry you had to take one for the team.”
“What team is she on?” Lucas asked Agnes. “’Cause that’s a cute dog.”
“Believe it or not, she’s on our team.” Agnes smiled at him.
“The Dogmothers?” he asked with a glint of humor in his eyes. “Cool. You want me to try and straighten those glasses?” He gave Gala’s head a quick rub and looked at Agnes one more time.
Agnes turned to Finnie, who fiddled with the frames, then slid them on so that they sat utterly lopsided on her sweet face. “I can see, so I guess it’s not so bad.”
When he took a few steps away with Tor, Agnes leaned close to Finnie. “And he can join us?”
She nodded. “Aye.”
“Now there’s the Finnie I know and love,” Agnes said.
“Well, he loves his dog, so how bad can he be?”
“Exactly.”
And if she could just persuade her best friend to see the good in Aldo Fiore later today, it would be an excellent Christmas Eve for everyone. Especially sweet Prudence, who would certainly thank Agnes for this little Christmas gift.
Chapter Three
By the time Pru finished answering the last of the questions, helping some people figure out the RACK IT UP app, and talking to Emma and Charlotte—and Mason and Dylan, the boyfriends who ranked higher on the food chain than Pru—it was getting a little late.
She hurried across the square where Gramma Finnie and Yiayia were still at the table, looking as if they were eager to go. Of course, Yiayia wanted to get to the Santa-stalking mission ASAP.
“Hey, guys, sorry that took so long,” Pru called as she got closer. “But we’ll make it to…” The word caught in her throat as Lucas Darling ambled closer, his ebony gaze pinned on her. “Vestal…” She couldn’t remember the rest.
She’d never actually made eye contact with this guy before, never really had the chance to look right into the darkest, most penetrating gaze she could remember. The effect was…dizzying.
“Do you need a RACK list?” she managed to ask. “The teams are set, but you could—”
“I’m on your team.”
She just stared at him, trying to swallow as the impossibility of what he’d just said settled on her chest. The one where her heart was suddenly beating double time. “Excuse me?”
“Unless Tor isn’t welcome.” He tugged the dog leash and made the greyhound prance a little closer. “Or I’m not.”
She blinked at him, then turned to the grannies, doing a double take at the crooked frames on Gramma Finnie’s face. “What happened to your glasses?”
“’Tis a minor setback,” she said brightly, trying to straighten the glasses, but succeeding only in making them sit even more cockeyed on her tiny face. “I can see fine.”
She shifted her gaze to Yiayia, who suddenly seemed wildly preoccupied with straightening the lists and refusing to make eye contact.
“It was my dog,” Lucas said, taking a step closer. “Tor snagged her glasses and ran.”
“Snagged…off her face?”
“Of course not,” Gramma Finnie assured her. “Tor’s a good dog. He’s just…impulsive.”
And Gramma was defending this?
“Tor.” Pru looked at the greyhound, who was, she had to admit, almost as stunning a creature as his owner. Big, shiny, and athletic, with gorgeous brown eyes. “Short for Tornado?” she guessed, fighting a smile as the dog tilted his head and practically begged to be loved.
“Toreador was his racing name,” Lucas said. “And seriously, um, Pru, I’m happy to fly solo.”
She gave in to that smile when he put um and Pru together and got Umproo, the nickname her father had called her since the evening they met in a vet office. And if she’d learned anything from Trace Bancroft, it was not to judge a book by its cover or a guy by his reputation.
And really, was this the worst thing to ever happen to her?
“No need to fly solo,” she said. “Although, brace yourself with these two…” She tipped her head toward the grannies. “You may never be the same after a day with them.”
“You don’t have to come with us,” Yiayia said quickly. “The two of you can just…” She made her fingers walk off. “Take off and randomly be…kind. We’ll be fine on our little mission to the mall. You’ll have much more fun alone.”
Alone? Oh. Realization dawned as she eyed one little granny and then the other. The matchmakers never took a day off, did they?
Apparently not.
“I’m going with you, and that is final.” God only knew what trouble they’d get into without her. And Pru didn’t want to think about what kind of trouble she’d get into with…the Darling boy.
“Oh, lassie, we’re grown women who can handle ourselves.”
“Stalking a mobster dressed as Santa?” she asked under her breath so Lucas couldn’t hear.
“He’s not a—”
Pru silenced Yiayia with the sweep of her hand. “I’m going with you, and you…” She turned to Lucas, who was studying her again, his square jaw set with a surprising amount of determination, and…were those some whiskers on his hollowed cheeks? Jeez. “You don’t have to do this,” she finished.
“I want to.”
Good God, was he serious? Maybe he didn’t fully understand.
“You want to get in the car—a Buick, mind you—with my great-grandmothers and two dogs and drive half an hour to the county’s monster mall—on Christmas Eve—where you will be expected to walk around and do nice things for perfect strangers and take pictures of it?” She spoke a little slowly because maybe he was nothing more than a gorgeous empty head with long, thick, finger-tempting black hair.
“Three dogs. ’Cause Tor goes where I go.” He smiled, showing off a set of dimples that put the eyes and hair and jaw to shame. “And I’m pretty sure this whole state is dog-friendly, including a mall.”
Seriously? All day with this…this hotness? How could she possibly RACK UP POINTS with a thousand butterflies suddenly airborne in her stomach and her knees threatening to buckle?