by Jennie Marts
The mason jar luminaries had been so popular that Jocelyn set up a preorder form and took orders for jars to be used at the concert, then taken home that night. She’d taken several pictures of them the night of the dance and had posted the gorgeous shots on social media. Mack spent hours in the smithy shop creating the candelabra hooks as he tried to keep up with the demand.
Jocelyn’s heart was focused on helping her grandmother, but her head kept reminding her of the looming promotion. She was waking up early and staying up late trying to cover the bases of both.
On Wednesday afternoon, she glanced up at the clock and figured it was time for a break. Her hands were cramped from typing, and her eyes burned from staring at a screen. She’d spent the morning and early afternoon working, creating content, and taking virtual meetings. She needed some fresh air and to stretch her legs.
She tugged on her sneakers and stuck her phone in her pocket. “I’m going to get outside, take a walk,” she told her grandmother and Loretta, who were playing cards at the kitchen table. “Anything I can get you all before I go?”
“No, we’re good,” Gram said. “Except maybe could you grab that tin of cookies and bring it over here?”
Jocelyn opened the tin and snuck a chocolate chip cookie before handing it to the women. Gram had her leg up on the chair next to her, and Jocelyn straightened the pillow under her foot. “Anything else?”
“Nope. Have fun on your walk.”
Jocelyn started toward the door.
“Except maybe could you could bring the coffee over and give us a little warmer?”
Jocelyn smiled as she brought over the pot and filled the women’s cups.
“Where are you headed?” Gram asked, after taking a sip of coffee.
“I don’t know. I just thought I’d take a stroll. Explore a bit.”
“I think I saw Mack heading to the barn. He said he was going to spend some time with the horses this afternoon,” Loretta told her. “Do me a favor—see if you can track him down for me and tell him I’m…” She paused and her eyes shifted to the side as if she were trying to think of something to ask. “Tell him I’m making meatloaf for supper.”
“You want me to ‘track down’ Mack just to give him an update on the dinner menu? That seems like quite the urgent message. I’ll make sure to find him right away.”
“Well, I, um, yeah.” Loretta kept her gaze on the cards in her hand. “It is rather important, because earlier I think I told him we were having chicken.”
“What are you now? The message police?” Gram asked. “Just find Mack and tell him about the meatloaf, would you?”
Jocelyn raised an eyebrow as she looked from Mack’s grandmother to her own. They thought they were sneaky, but she saw right through these two. “Yes. Fine. I’ll do it. Meatloaf—not chicken. Got it. I’ll guard this imperative message with my life.”
Her grandmother playfully swatted her leg as she walked by. “Go for your walk and quit being so sassy.”
“I’ll be back in a bit. Stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”
“No promises.”
She smiled as she shoved her arms into an old flannel shirt that was hanging by the door, then waved and made her escape. Wrapping the edges of the shirt around her, she walked down the porch steps and crossed her arms against the slight chill in the air. Springtime in the Rockies—one minute the sun could be shining and people would be walking around in tank tops, and the next minute, it would be cloudy and they’d be pulling on hoodies.
Jocelyn wandered her familiar route down the path to circle the pond. A turtle sunned itself on the edge of the bank, and she caught a glimpse of one of the muskrats darting through the water. She checked on the chickens, the sheep in the corral, and the new baby piglets in the sty before she finally made her way to the barn.
Time to deliver the critical message.
Truth be told, she didn’t really mind having an excuse to track down Mack—even if it was a lame and completely obvious excuse.
She poked her head in the barn and spotted him just inside. A large draft horse was tied to a supporting post, and Jocelyn could hear Mack softly humming to the mare as he dragged a brush over her coat. Not wanting to spook him or the horse, she called out to him as she entered the barn. “Hey there.”
“Hey,” he answered, stopping for a second to greet her, then turning back to the horse to continue his brushing. “What are you up to?”
“Just taking a walk, stretching my legs. I’ve been at the computer all morning and needed a break. And your grandmother asked me to find you. She had a message she wanted me to give you. It seemed pretty important.”
Mac paused and turned to face her. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“I think you’re going to want to find a paper and pencil so you can jot down some notes. It’s a big change in plans.”
His eyes lit with amusement as he grasped her sarcasm. “I’ll take my chances on remembering it. I’m pretty sharp.”
She took a deep exaggerated breath. “Okay, here it is. Loretta will be making meatloaf instead of chicken for dinner tonight.” She blew out a breath. “Whew.”
He shook his head. “Meatloaf, huh?” He patted his chest where a pocket might be. “Now where did I put that pen and paper? You’re right—that does seem important. Imagine what would’ve happened if I’d spent the whole day anticipating roast chicken and then got blindsided with a meatloaf?”
“Right?”
“I’m surprised she didn’t try to find me herself.”
“Oh no. It seemed pretty imperative that I be the one to find you and relay this critical info. She and Gram are pretty busy playing cards and drinking all that coffee.”
He shook his head, amusement teasing the corners of his mouth. “I think our two grannies are playing at something more than cards.”
“Ya think?”
He smiled. “Do they think we don’t see what they’re doing?”
She laughed and put a hand up to stroke the horse’s neck. “I don’t think they care. And I don’t think I necessarily mind either.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “Maybe I was glad to have an excuse to come out here to see you.”
His eyes sparked with mischief as he gently took her hand in his. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She pushed up on her toes and pressed her cheek to his. He wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her close, and she lost herself in the feel of him, shutting out the rest of the world.
A long low howl wrenched through the air, startling them and the horse.
The mare took a step back and let out a huff as Mack pulled away and put a calming hand on her back. “Whoa there, girl.” He turned to Savage, who must have just wandered into the barn, because Jocelyn hadn’t seen him before. The hound was sitting next to an empty stable in the far corner. “What are you howlin’ about, Savage? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of important business here?”
The dog let out another mournful howl and nosed the hay in front of him.
“All right, fine. I’m coming.” He put down the brush he was still holding and lifted his shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “Sorry. I’d better see what he’s found. It’s probably just a dead mouse, but he won’t stop howling ’til I check it out.”
“It’s fine.” She trailed behind him. “I’m curious too. He seems pretty upset.”
Mack shook his head. “I’d keep your expectations low. I’ve seen him get that upset over a feather caught in a tree.”
He crouched down. “All right, boy. What’d you find?” The dog trotted to him, and Mack rubbed his hand soothingly over the dog’s head, scratching at the folds of his neck. But whatever Savage had found was obviously more significant than getting a neck rub, because the dog ran back to the stable and snuffled his nose into the hay.
They approached the stable together and peered into the shadowy sp
ace.
Jocelyn gasped and pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes widening at what Savage had found in the straw.
Chapter Sixteen
Jocelyn crouched to the floor of the barn. “Oh no. Poor babies.” She reached her hand out to one of the two small scruffy dogs curled together in the hay. One was dark brown and the other more golden. “It’s okay, baby,” she told the lighter one, who was cautiously sniffing her hand.
Mack reached in and gently picked up the darker brown one. “Hey fella. It’s okay.” He cradled the animal to his neck, and the dog tipped his head and made a half-hearted attempt to lick his chin.
“I got you, sweetheart.” Jocelyn picked up the other one and cuddled it to her. “How did they get here?”
Mack shook his head. “Who knows? Neither of them is wearing a collar.”
“We need to get these two some water and find them some food.”
“Here. Hold this guy a second.” He passed her the dog and hurried back into the barn, where he grabbed a half-empty water bottle from the workbench. Hastening back to her, he crouched down and poured a little water into his cupped hand, then stretched it out to the dogs.
They both whined and wiggled in her arms to get closer to lap the fresh water from Mack’s hand. With his other hand, he gave Savage a neck scratch. The basset hound had lain down in the hay, his legs splayed out, as if he were exhausted from the enormous effort it took to lead them to the abandoned dogs. “Good boy, Savage.”
He gave the dogs a little more water then nodded toward the mare. “Let me put Delilah away, then we’ll take these guys up to my house and get them cleaned up and fed.” He led the mare back into her stable and put the lead rope and brush on the workbench. Then Jocelyn and the basset hound followed him back to his house.
It had been a long time since Jocelyn had been in the caretaker’s cottage, and back then it had been Hank and Loretta’s home. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but was pleasantly surprised when Mack let her in the front door.
Loretta’s quaint sofa and Hank’s old recliner were gone—probably taken to the apartment they’d moved to in the assisted living community. Also gone were the kitschy decorations and rows of knick knacks that used to cover most every available space.
The small cottage had undergone some renovations, like having the wall between the kitchen and the living room knocked out to turn it into an open concept living space. The large stone fireplace was still the focal point of the room, but the old beige shag carpeting had been replaced with hardwood flooring and a plush brown rug in the living area. An intricately forged iron chandelier hung above the counter, forming a peninsula between the two rooms.
This was definitely a man’s house, evidenced by the large overstuffed sofa and recliner, the sparse furnishings, and the lack of feminine touches like throw pillows or decorative floral arrangements.
A stack of books sat next to the recliner, and Jocelyn wished for the chance to paw through his reading material, curious what filled his mind when he was alone. Inside the door was a built-in set of oak shelves with a bench, where Jocelyn imagined Mack sat to remove his boots and shoes. A row of boots sat neatly lined up against the bench. Jackets and coats hung from black forged hooks on the wall above the bench.
She touched the side of the shelves. “Did you build these?”
“Yeah. I did a lot of the renovating when my grandparents moved out and I officially took over the house.” He gestured around the living area. “If you look, you can see a lot of the iron work is mine. I get an idea for something, and it’s pretty easy to build it in the shop.”
“You do great work.” She glanced around, noticing other touches that must have been his—the hinges on a sliding barn door that housed the pantry, and a heavy iron candelabra resting on the fireplace mantel.
What would happen to Mack’s beautiful cottage if they lost the ranch? Her grandmother could move into the same community where Hank and Loretta lived, but Mack would lose everything—not just his livelihood, but his home, too.
They couldn’t let that happen.
She started to ask him if he had a contingency plan, but the dogs squirmed in her arms, and she realized they had more pressing matters to deal with.
Mack had already moved into the kitchen and was opening a can of wet dog food and scooping it onto two paper plates. “Let’s get them fed, then we can give them a flea and tick bath and get them cleaned up.”
“Good idea.” The dogs must have smelled the food because they were wiggling like crazy in her arms, and the brown one was whining and arching his back toward the plates Mack set on the floor. She put the wriggling pups on the floor and they dug into the food.
“I just gave them each a little to start,” Mack explained as he pulled items from the cupboard and beneath the sink and set them on the counter. “Let’s see how they handle this, then we can give them more.”
The dogs finished the food in seconds, licking every morsel from the plates. Mack picked them both up and nodded to the things he’d just set out. “Grab that stuff, would ya? We can give them a bath while we let that first bit of food settle.”
Jocelyn picked up a jar of peanut butter, a spatula, and a bottle of flea and tick shampoo and followed Mack into the bathroom. “I don’t get it. What’s the peanut butter for?”
“You’ll see,” he said. “It’s a trick I’ve learned with Savage. He used to hate baths, and now he loves them. And Bassets are known for their fragrant scent, so he needs washing up quite often.”
Savage had followed them into the bathroom to check on what was going on. Jocelyn had noticed the dog did at times smell a little pungent, but she’d thought it would be rude to mention it.
Mack turned on the warm water, then gingerly set the dogs in the tub. “Give me a scoop of that peanut butter, please.”
“Oh-kay,” she said, still confused. She scraped a portion of the peanut butter onto the spatula and passed it to him. She was even more confused when he spread a big chunk of it onto the side of the bathtub.
The method to his madness became clear a second later when both dogs started licking at it. “They’ll be so focused on that peanut butter, they won’t even care that we’re giving them a bath.”
“Ahh. Smart.”
“But we don’t have long, so roll up your sleeves and wash one of them, would ya?” He squirted a line of shampoo over each of their backs. “Just massage that shampoo into all her fur and really rub it in. Make sure you get her belly and her ears and in between the pads of her feet.”
Jocelyn knelt beside Mack and set to giving the beige dog a thorough washing. The shampoo lathered in her hands, but she was still gentle.
Savage moaned and cried and planted his feet on the edge of the tub. “That’s so cute how he wants to see these little dogs,” Jocelyn said.
Mack scoffed. “He doesn’t want to see the pups, he wants that peanut butter. That dog will eat anything at any time. I once dropped a twenty dollar bill out of my pocket, and Savage grabbed that thing and gulped it down before I even had a second to stop him.”
“A twenty? That dog has expensive tastes.”
“You’re funny.”
She grinned as she put her focus back on the dog, trying to ignore the heavy pressure of Savage leaning against her side as he continued to whine. The shower had a sprayer attachment, and Mack washed the shampoo from the coats of both dogs. As much as she was concentrating on the animals, Jocelyn was still hyper-aware of Mack’s solid shoulder pressed into hers and the warm pressure of his hand every time it brushed hers.
“I think we got it,” Mack said. “Can you grab one of those towels?” He nodded his head toward a gray towel hanging from the rack next to the tub.
Jocelyn reached for a towel and must have bent her body just enough to give Savage the break he’d been hoping for. He gave a loud bark as he scrambled over the side of the t
ub. Water splashed everywhere, dousing both Jocelyn and Mack as the dog’s body hit the water in a less than graceful belly flop. He fell in front of the sprayer, redirecting the water directly toward Jocelyn.
She shrieked as she leaned back, slapping the water with her hands. Mack shot forward, jerking the faucets to turn the spray off.
The two dogs leapt out of the way as Savage tackled the side of the tub, licking his huge pink tongue over what was left of the peanut butter.
“Dang dog,” Mack said, then turned to her. The concern on his face changed to amusement, and he pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” she said, lifting her sopping bangs from her face and flipping them back over her head. She’d taken the brunt of the water and was soaked to the skin. She pulled her wet shirt away from her body. “I think I’m going to need to borrow a shirt.”
Having licked the bathtub wall clean, Savage plunked his bottom down and the smaller dogs clambered over his larger body. They each stopped to shake the water from their coats, sending more droplets through the air.
Jocelyn sputtered and held her hands up to defend herself from the fresh onslaught of spray. “Oh, come on,” she said, then had to laugh at the hilarity of the situation.
Savage leaned his head toward her, offering her a sad-eyed apology. She scrubbed a hand over his wet head. “I know, boy. It’s hard to resist when it comes to peanut butter.”
An hour later, Mack and Jocelyn made their way back to Gram’s house. Jocelyn’s jeans were still damp, but she wore Mack’s dry Harmony Creek High Football t-shirt. Her arms were full of two sleeping puppies.
They stopped on the front porch as they heard a raised voice coming through the screen door.
“I just don’t know why all those cars think it’s okay to park in front of my house,” Mrs. Crandle’s annoyed voice stated. “And someone dropped their trash in my yard last week.”