Rescued

by L. P. Maxa

  She moved into his arms and met his lips with her own. Gentle at first, they touched and caressed and nibbled. Lonnie tasted of mint and oranges and him. She slid her arms around his firm waist, warm and beckoning to her exploring fingers. His arms were bands of steel as he wrapped them around her shoulders, plastering their bodies together.

  Slowly the intensity of the kiss increased, as their tongues touched and mingled in a sensuous duel. Her heart pounded in her throat and her nipples tightened against the rock-hard muscles of his chest. She savored the way he felt against her, reveled in the warmth and strength she felt in his arms.

  They clung to one another for long moments, touching and tasting and caressing. Her senses were more alive than they’d ever been in any other man’s arms. This was the way she should feel and never had until tonight.

  Talk about being knocked for a loop.

  Finally Lonnie raised his head. “Damn, girl, you pack a wallop.” His eyes were glazed and his breathing was ragged.

  “So do you.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “I wish I could kiss you all night. But I can’t. They’re waitin’.”

  He released her and took a step back. She was loath to let him go, her body thrilling to his touch and her heart longing for more. But she stepped back and stared into Lonnie’s eyes. His gaze was a little unfocused, a little dreamy as he looked back at her.

  He reached over and ran his hand down the side of her face. “I’ll see you in Bristol, darlin’.”

  And then he was gone.

  Brittany stared at the closing door and touched her lips with her index finger, fighting the sinking disappointment. He hadn’t told her he’d call or text. He hadn’t asked her out.

  Damn.

  Brittany picked up the end of the leash and led Cocoa to the door and they went outside. The little dog sniffed around before finding the right spot to take care of business. They returned to the room and Cocoa retired to the carrier.

  Brittany took a long hot shower, reliving the moments she’d been in Lonnie’s arms. Maybe he would call her from Nashville. Maybe he needed to check his calendar before making a date.

  She hoped she was right—he felt the spark between them.

  ###

  Brittany clipped on Cocoa’s leash and together they bounded down the stairs of Brittany’s Bristol apartment complex and headed for the wide-open grassy field where Cocoa did her business these days. It hadn’t taken the little dog any time at all to adjust to coming downstairs with Brittany, to taking care of things before they went for nice walks in the cool early mornings.

  Cuddling up next to Brittany on the sofa had taken a little more time, but in the two weeks since they’d come home, the little dog had made tremendous progress. She’d taken to her new crate like a duck to water, surrounding herself with squeaky toys, presents from Brittany, Chessie, and Bella.

  Cocoa was not a picky eater and had learned that wandering up to the dining table, looking hopeful and wagging her tail so fast it blurred, would usually garner her at least a bite or two of human food. And this morning she’d jumped up on the sofa and laid her head on Brittany’s thigh while she checked email on her iPad.

  Brittany was so delighted she immediately ditched her no-dog-on-the-furniture rule and patted her little canine buddy. If Cocoa did leave a little hair behind, that’s what hand vacuums were for.

  ###

  Brittany waited patiently while Cocoa found the right spot. Then they headed for The Pinnacle, the new shopping center that was a couple of blocks from her apartment, and spent an hour or so perusing the goods displayed in the windows of the various stores before heading back to the apartment. Maybe in a couple of weeks, she would be able to venture into the stores with Cocoa in her arms. The pooch wasn’t quite to the point that she would let Brittany hold her for any length of time, but that was coming. Cocoa was going to be a wonderful pet.

  And unless Lonnie laid claim to her, she was going to be Brittany’s wonderful pet. To Brittany’s immense relief, no one had posted anything online looking for the little dog, nor had anyone responded to the fliers Brittany had posted along the Parkway. It would break her heart to have to give the dog back to whoever had treated her so poorly.

  Brittany already loved her dearly.

  But she didn’t love Lonnie Jeffries one damned bit about now. In fact, she didn’t even like him.

  She made a face and tried to forget him. But every time she looked at his dog carrier sitting in the corner of her dining room, she would relive the steamy kiss they’d shared in her hotel room two weeks ago. She wished she’d had the good sense to back away that night instead of returning his kiss. Obviously, it hadn’t meant to him what it had to her since she hadn’t heard word one from him.

  She should have known better. Passionate animal rescuer aside, Lonnie Jeffries was a hopeless flirt and nothing more. She’d been foolish in the extreme to read anything more into his kindness to Cocoa. Apparently, his ability to take anything seriously stopped with his four-legged rescues.

  Brittany dressed in khakis and an Acoustics polo, this one proudly proclaiming Bristol’s status as the “Original” Acoustics. Now that the Gatlinburg opening was out of the way, she was back at her usual position at the Bristol club.

  Cocoa was already asleep in her crate as Brittany shut the door and headed out to work. The late morning sun beat down on Bristol as she made the short drive to the club, which was a block off State Street on the Tennessee side of town.

  Bartenders Joe and Ross were getting things ready for thirsty customers, the wait-staff was doing last-minute checks of the tables, and the kitchen was gearing up to turn out the bar food the Saturday crowd would order. She breathed a sigh of relief and mentally put on her other hat as she got out her fiddle and snapped on a tuner. In forty-five minutes her family’s Barstows II band was leading off with the first set, and she was looking forward to a little time on the stage.

  Her sister and cousin trooped in with their instruments. “How’s Cocoa coming along?” Bridget asked.

  “Great. She jumped on the sofa and put her head in my lap this morning.”

  Danny laughed. “So you’ve tamed the rat, huh?” Danny liked big dogs, the bigger the better. His rescue mutt weighed in at almost ninety pounds.

  “Hey, I get tootsie rolls to clean up and you get yard logs. Big yard logs. Think about that,” she shot back.

  “So, have you heard from Cocoa’s knight in shining armor? The one who didn’t leave you grinning like a fool?” Bridget asked slyly. “Whoops. Forget I said anything,” she added quickly when Brittany shot her the finger. She turned to Danny. “Boy, he really must have done something to piss her off.”

  “Has he become he-who-will-not-be-spoken-of?” Danny gibed.

  “She’s going to have to speak of him this afternoon. Or at least speak to him. He’s coming to play,” Bridget informed her.

  Shit.

  Barstows II was finishing their second set when the family’s famous songwriter, Caitlyn, walked in the dining room, followed by Lonnie carrying his guitar. Brittany cursed the shiver that raced down her spine at the sight of his infectious grin.

  Freshly shaved with hair still damp from a recent shower, he was every bit as appealing as he had been in her fantasies. He flashed her his trademark smile as he climbed up on the stage beside her. “Ready to make some music with me, darlin’?” he asked softly as she handed her mic down to the soundman.

  “Not particularly. You should be okay with Danny’s mic. If it’s too tall, you can lower it a little. Caitlyn can use Bridget’s.” After ignoring her for two weeks, she wasn’t in a mood to be friendly.

  She turned to greet Caitlyn with a hug. “So are you test-driving more Jeffries’s tunes, or are these for somebody else?”

  “Preston said there’s a lot of interest from a few folks.” Caitlyn’s agent worked with some of the hottest acts in Nashville. “Lonnie’s doing me a favor.” She lowered her voice. “I don’t know
what’s going on with him this afternoon. He acted downright nervous all the way over here.”

  “Probably worried there won’t be enough pretty girls in the audience to flirt with,” Brittany muttered. She fought back a smirk when Lonnie’s ears turned red. “You want an intro from me, or you want to introduce yourselves?”

  Caitlyn’s lips twitched as she looked from Brittany to Lonnie. “I think we can manage.”

  “Awesome. Have a good set.”

  Brittany was off the stage and out of the dining room before Caitlyn had her mic adjusted.

  ###

  Ouch.

  Lonnie cringed as she swept from the room. She must be really mad if she wasn’t even going to stay and hear Caitlyn’s new songs.

  He should have called her. He should have manned up and called the girl whose kiss had shaken him to his toes.

  He’d been a chickenshit of the highest order, scared to damn death. He’d felt more turned on, connected, alive with Brittany Barstow in his arms than he’d ever felt in his life. She’d felt so warm, so good, so right. So perfect.

  So tomorrow.

  Lonnie Jeffries didn’t do tomorrow. He was a one-night-stand kind of guy. One night, maybe two or three if the sex was spectacular, and that was it. After seeing the way Ike’s life had been ruined by love gone wrong, Lonnie wanted no part of tomorrows.

  Brittany Barstow was not a one-night-stand kind of woman. She was a tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that. She was a take-her-home-to-meet-your-family kind of lady. For some lucky bastard someday, she would be a stand-with-her-in-front-of-the-preacher kind of lady.

  She made him want to have those tomorrows with her. But he wasn’t sure he had it in him.

  They could start with a date.

  But first he had to make up for what he’d done. And he had just the in.

  Cocoa.

  They’d met and bonded over the dog.

  He would start there.

  He found Brittany at her father’s desk in the instrument room, clutching that damned clipboard. “When are you gonna join this century and do your scheduling on an iPad?” he teased.

  She barely glanced at him. “This works for me.”

  He plopped down in the chair in front of her. “So tell me about Cocoa. How’s she doin’? Has she warmed up any?”

  “She’s fine. Settling down nicely. Jumped on the sofa and put her head in my lap this morning.”

  “So when can I see her? Tonight after you get off?”

  Brittany continued to concentrate on the clipboard. “How would you get home to Kingsport?”

  “Darlin’, that’s what Uber’s for.”

  “Or you could drive back with Caitlyn and bring your own car back over later after you’d had your fill of a few pretty girls.”

  “Don’t need to do that. I’ll have all the pretty girls I need at your place.”

  She ignored him.

  ###

  At midnight he pulled into her complex’s parking lot. He wound around until he found her apartment number on the door, but her car wasn’t in the parking lot. He’d rehearsed his apology and still wasn’t sure what he intended to say would have the desired effect. He would do his best. He would speak from the heart and hope she understood.

  Brittany’s old Mazda pulled in beside him twenty minutes later. She hopped out and looked askance at his Jeep, parked beneath the security light. “Is it my imagination, or is that thing bright yellow?”

  “Oh, darlin, this is nothing. Ike’s is orange.”

  “Jesus, whatever happened to candy apple red? Come on up. But you can’t stay long. It’s late and I have to work tomorrow.”

  Lonnie followed her up the stairs to the second-story apartment. She unlocked the door. “Cocoa’s probably ready for a trip outside about now.” Brittany flipped on the light and made a beeline for the crate in front of the faux fireplace. “Hey, baby girl. I missed you today. Are you ready for a trip outside? Cocoa, what’s the matter, baby girl?”

  Brittany dropped to her knees in front of the crate. Lonnie peered over her shoulder and sucked in his breath. Cocoa was trying to sit up, but her movements were stiff and painful, and she cried out when she tried to put weight on her left front leg. She rolled back down onto the pad, whining as she looked at the two of them. “Cocoa?” he asked quietly.

  Brittany opened the door and hesitantly reached for Cocoa, who flinched and growled at her touch. She turned frightened eyes on Lonnie. “She’s in pain. Something’s wrong. Really wrong. What are we going to do?”

  ###

  Brittany sat on the uncomfortable chair in the all-night veterinary clinic and leaned her head against the wall. It was almost three in the morning and Cocoa hadn’t been seen yet. She glanced over at Lonnie. He was taking advantage of the wall and appeared to have dozed off. She’d tried to convince him to go on home and go to bed. But he was as determined as she was to find out what was wrong with Cocoa.

  The vet was in surgery, trying to save the life of a Labradoodle that had run out in front of a car. There was another clinic across town, but it hadn’t received good reviews and an unsmiling Lonnie insisted they would wait for the better doctor no matter how long it took. “After all, we’d insist on the best for ourselves, wouldn’t we? Cocoa deserves the best as well.”

  She looked down at the whimpering dog. Cocoa’s last few hours had not been fun. She’d cried and snapped at them as they transferred her to Lonnie’s carrier, and every bump in the road had triggered another round of whimpering. Brittany was baffled. Cocoa had been fine at noon when she left for work. What had happened to make Cocoa hurt so badly?

  The veterinarian and her assistant came out fifteen minutes later. The vet spoke to the owners of the Labradoodle, who gave each other despairing looks and followed the redheaded assistant into the back. The vet, a competent-appearing black woman with a kind smile, introduced herself as Dr. Johnson. “I hated having to deliver the news to those folks.”

  “Not good?” Lonnie asked as he picked up Cocoa’s carrier.

  “No. They were fostering the dog for a seeing-eye organization. The dog will live but won’t recover sufficiently to work. Hopefully the organization can at least find him a home.”

  “That sucks,” Brittany said.

  “It does. So let’s take this pretty baby back and see what’s troubling her tonight.”

  They trooped into an exam room. As gently as they could, they got her out of the carrier. Cocoa cried with every touch as Dr. Johnson examined her. “I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on, but Marla and I need to get some X-rays before I make any kind of definitive diagnosis. It will take us a few minutes. There’s a soda machine in the break room if you’re thirsty.”

  Lonnie got them each a soda. Brittany collapsed into a chair at one of the tables and mentally rearranged her budget for the next couple of months. Veterinarians didn’t come cheap. She would have to call the car dealership tomorrow and tell the salesman she’d been working with that he would have to keep the snazzy little CX-5 she had her eye on, at least for the time being.

  She couldn’t imagine what she could do to come up with the money for surgery, if it was required.

  Marla came and got them a half-hour later. Cocoa was in one of the clinic crates, exhausted and trembling. Dr. Johnson wasn’t smiling and Brittany sagged inwardly. “What did you find out?” she asked through stiff lips.

  Dr. Johnson turned on the screen and brought up an image. Even Brittany’s untrained eye could see that the bones in Cocoa’s back were not as they should be. Instead of a healthy spine, Cocoa had major problems up and down her spinal column. “Damn,” she breathed. “No wonder she hurts. I’m surprised she hadn’t hurt before now.”

  “Did she do anything different yesterday?” Dr. Johnson asked.

  Brittany thought a minute. “She jumped up on the sofa.”

  “Not good. That’s probably when she did something to aggravate an already unfortunate situation. Something that sim
ple can do it.” Dr. Johnson looked at Brittany with narrowed eyes. “She has degenerative back disease, brought on by faulty breeding. I wish all you folks who want these designer dogs would be a little more careful of choosing your breeders.”

  “Ma’am, Brittany and I rescued Cocoa out from under a car. We have no idea who the breeder is,” Lonnie said quietly.

  “Oops. Sorry. I tend to get on my high horse sometimes. It’s just that with a bit more careful breeding this kind of thing wouldn’t happen. Ultimately it’s the animals that suffer.”

  “So what can you do? Surgery?” Brittany asked.

  Dr. Johnson glanced up at the X-ray. “There isn’t anything I can do surgically. If it were a single site problem, then maybe. But her entire spine’s involved. How long did you say you’ve had her?”

  “Two weeks. Not all that long,” Brittany admitted.

  “I’m going to be honest. Cocoa is going to have a bad back for the rest of her life. She’s going to need to start off with laser therapy treatments for a couple of weeks and then she’s going to need medication pretty much forever. We’re talking some money. And her activities are going to be somewhat restricted. She’s not going to be jumping on and off furniture like a healthier dog, and you’re not going to be taking her out for five-mile hikes and she’s not going to be chasing a frisbee in the park. Something to think about. Whether or not you want to make the commitment…”

  “I’m keeping her,” Brittany stated. “Bad back and all.”

  “And I’m picking up the tab. Now and for the rest of her life,” Lonnie said. He put a gentle finger to her lips when she started to argue. “Darlin’, I know your daddy pays you well. But, hey. I got this. May as well do something constructive with all those royalties.” He turned to Dr. Johnson. “I’ll leave a credit card number on file with your office.”

  Dr. Johnson smiled. “I wish all pet owners were like the two of you.” She looked again at Lonnie. “The Jeffries, right? Y’all are good.”