by Jeannie Watt
“Can I...uh...shop...first?”
Wanda gave her a serious look. “Before you ‘shop,’ I need to know some things about you so that we can match the pet to the owner. For instance, I’m not going to send you home with a retired bomb-sniffing dog.”
Alex leaned forward in her chair. “Do you have one of those?”
“Had.” Wanda pointed to a photo of a police-type dog that looked as if he was either smiling or about to eat someone. “His original owner passed away, so I helped place him.”
“Do you have any dogs that look like him?” Alex asked hopefully.
Wanda cocked her head. “No offense, but you look more like a poodle-mix person to me.”
“No offense taken,” Alex said. She picked up the paperwork and scanned the questions. There were a lot of them—three pages’ worth—so she picked up the pencil and went to work. She hoped after filling out this packet, which was longer than her college application, that there actually was a suitable dog for her. She answered questions about her ability to feed, house and exercise her pet, her attitude toward pets, her expectations and reasons for wanting a pet. She paused at the point where she was required to state that she had a suitable enclosure for the animal. She did. It needed to be repaired, since the back gate was hanging on one hinge, but how big of a job could that be? She ticked the box. Yes, she had a proper fence—or would have one shortly.
When she was done, she passed the application across the table to Wanda, who took a pencil from behind her ear and started scanning the answers, her pencil hovering over the paper. Dear heavens, was she about to be graded?
Wanda nodded thoughtfully as she worked her way to the second page. “So, you have owned a dog before.”
Alex almost said that she’d owned one that looked exactly like the bomb sniffer, but she’d never been a good liar, so instead she said, “Yes. A poodle mix. Teddy.” And what a great friend he had been, but he was not chase-off-intruder material, and that was what she was looking for.
“Never owned a cat?”
Alex shook her head. “My mother was allergic.” Her mother had sworn she was allergic to dogs, too, but she’d never been home enough to make contact with Teddy, so all had been well.
Wanda looked up at her, and Alex knew before the woman spoke that she was going to tell her that she looked like a cat person.
“I have nothing against cats. I simply want to start with a dog.”
“Well, I was thinking, with you living out on the Dunlop place, that you might want an outdoor cat or two to keep down the mice.”
Alex’s eyes widened. Yes. She would like that. “Do you have outdoor cats?”
“We trap regularly on the surrounding ranches, and people will bring adult cats in when they find them.”
Alex lifted her chin. “I will keep that in mind, but today I’d really like to meet some dogs.”
Wanda pushed back her chair. “Let’s do that.”
Alex also stood. “I passed?”
“You did. It was Teddy that tipped the scales.”
* * *
NICK SPENT THE morning reading articles on night terrors and discovered nothing new. No answers or strategies he hadn’t read before and nothing stating that he was doing a poor job being both mom and dad to his girls. But he still wondered.
The last time he’d spoken to his dad, who’d left the country five years ago to join his Australian bride’s veterinary practice, he’d asked about night terrors. To the best of his father’s recollection, neither Nick, nor his sisters, had had any issues with nightmares...which left Nick with lingering doubts as to his parenting abilities. He’d simply have to do his best to be there whenever his daughters needed him.
Despite the disruption the night before, both girls were up and dressed by six thirty. Kendra liked to choose her own clothing and would have chosen Bailey’s, too, but Nick knew what it was like to have a sister try to take over one’s life. Every night before bedtime, he put a couple of seasonally appropriate tops and bottoms in a pink mesh basket, which was Bailey’s “Choice Box.” Sometimes she chose to wear two or three tops, squeezing one on top of the other, and he was good with it, but Kendra had a very hard time allowing her little sister to break fashion rules.
“Let’s put Lizzie Belle in her pen before we go to town,” he said to Kendra as she came into the kitchen. The little goat had a bad habit of dancing on the roofs and hoods of vehicles—particularly Brady’s, Katie’s fiancé and Nick’s best friend. It was like she knew he was the only guy on the property who really cared about his paint job.
“I can do it.”
Nick gave a nod. If the little goat fought her, she knew where to find backup. But just in case, he said, “Call if she gets stubborn.”
“I will,” Kendra said solemnly, and out the door she went, ready to wrangle a goat.
“Daddy, help!”
“Coming.” Nick went into the girls’ bedroom and found Bailey trying desperately to put on a hooded sweatshirt that was twisted in the back. She never showed any aftereffects of her night terrors. He was the only one who suffered the following day—as it should be.
“Won’t fit,” she complained, struggling to get her arm all the way into the sleeve.
“Well, let’s just take this arm out, and give the shirt a little twist like this...” He straightened the sweatshirt and held it by one shoulder as Bailey slid her arm inside. “Just make sure it’s straight before you start.” He didn’t know if she knew how to do that but figured she’d catch on. He picked up a shirt out of the basket and showed her straight, then twisted, then straight again.
Bailey nodded as if she fully understood, then said, “Shoes.”
“Do not match.”
She beamed up at him, lifting first her foot with the purple sneaker, then her other foot with the blue sneaker.
“Very nice. Don’t let your sister talk you out of it.”
She held up her arms, and he lifted her to his hip. “Ready to go to Grandma’s?”
Bailey gave an emphatic nod, then hugged him. Nick’s heart swelled. He would swim oceans and fight tigers for his girls. There were so many things he would do for them, and so many ways he could get it wrong.
Kendra did a perfect job of penning Lizzie Belle, and after both girls were strapped into their car and booster seats, they were on their way—their inordinately long way, thanks to a neighbor who refused to be neighborly.
What if one of his girls had an emergency?
No question about it, he would drive through the Dunlop ranch, neighborly demands be damned...or he would have if the gate wasn’t locked.
Nick slowed to a stop at the turnoff he’d driven through a couple of days before. Sure enough, there was a bicycle cable wrapped around the post with a big lock attached.
Well, that was fast work.
“Do you see something, Daddy?”
He glanced back to see Kendra searching the brush for an animal. “I thought I did, honey, but I was wrong.” He put the truck in gear and moved on, the truck lurching as it went through a rut he hadn’t spotted in time.
“You guys okay back there?”
Bailey laughed. “Bump.”
“That’s right. A bump.” And there were a lot more bumps and a bona fide quagmire ahead—thank you, New Neighbor, for adding an hour of travel time and a lot of mud and jolts to his trip to town.
Let it go. It’s her property. Her right to lock the gate.
Except that it should have been his property—had been his property right up until the eleventh hour, when she’d skated in and somehow talked the seller into taking her not-that-much-larger bid.
Yeah. It was probably going to take him a while to let that go.
* * *
“EXCUSE ME?” ALEX STARED at the woman on the opposite side of the tall counter at the building-supply store—the on
ly store in Gavin in which she could buy the supplies she needed to fix the gate so that she did indeed have an enclosed yard for her soon-to-be adopted dog—a big, lovable golden retriever mix named Gus. It was also the store in which she’d hoped to get the name of a contractor to work on her roof and help repair the dangerously rotten porch steps.
“I said my guys are all booked for the next six months. I can put you on the list.”
“Are there any independent contractors who might be available?”
The lady gave a sharp nod. “Nick Callahan.” The words came out sounding like a punch line, which in essence it was.
“I see.” She held the strap of her purse a little tighter. How much could she accomplish with YouTube videos? The gatepost hinge, but not the roof. The rotted steps...maybe. If this woman would allow her to buy the wood to fix them. And how was she supposed to get boards home? She’d turned in her rental trailer days ago. “Nick didn’t happen to stop by and talk to you about me, did he?” As in, did he have her blackballed?
The woman made a mock shocked face. “Nick isn’t that kind of guy.” She leaned on the counter. “Why? Is there some reason he would have talked about you?”
Oh, yeah. This lady knew what had happened between her and Nick. She would bet money on it. So, what now?
“I’ll pay extra if you can move me up on the list.”
The lady laughed. And it was not a pleasant laugh. “Kind of like how you bought that ranch out from under Nick?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m never going to hit the top of the list, even if I wait. Am I?”
The woman gave an eloquent shrug. “There are some excellent contractors in Dillon and the surrounding areas. Of course, you’ll have to pay extra for travel.” She gave Alex a look that clearly said, “Touché.”
Fine. She turned to leave, startled to feel tears of frustration and anger stinging the corners of her eyes. She was not normally a crier, but she didn’t normally live life on edge after moving across the country. Lots of stress building with no release.
Well, she wasn’t going to release in front of this woman. She was going to get out of there as fast as she could without looking like she was running. She turned and marched toward the door.
“Do you want your hinge?” Which Alex had set on the counter before asking about hiring a contractor.
“No,” Alex called as she reached the knob. “I’ll buy one online.”
“Yeah? How will the delivery truck get it to you with your locked gate? They don’t deliver to post office boxes, you know.”
Alex clenched her teeth together and pushed out the door. She’d moved here to live anonymously, to avoid having persons unknown be able to easily find her, and instead she was the object of gossip, rumor and speculation.
She and Nick Callahan were going to have a talk. She had no idea how to get to his ranch, but she did have his business card folded into fourths and stuck underneath a wobbly table leg in the kitchen. She’d drive home, get his number and then give him a piece of mind.
Or...she could pull in to the grocery store parking lot and have it out with him there, because if she was not mistaken, that was the man himself, climbing out of the truck parked right next to a cart-return area.
Alex swung into the lot without signaling and pulled up next to his truck. He looked up as she lurched to a stop and rolled down the window in one movement, a startled look on his handsome face.
“Hi,” she said coolly. “Remember me?”
CHAPTER FOUR
ALEX RYAN CLIMBED out of her car and stalked toward Nick with murder in her eyes. Apparently he had something to answer for, which was odd, because wasn’t he the one getting screwed over in this deal? Wasn’t he the one who quite literally had to traverse ten miles of bad road to get home?
She came to a stop a few feet away and pointed a finger at him. “You had me blackballed at the lumber store.”
“Cooper’s Building Supply?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t.”
She gave him a puh-leeze look as her green gaze burned into him. “I’ll drive to Missoula to get what I need. And you can enjoy the fact that you’re putting me out, but remember this—petty revenge is bad for the soul.”
“I’ll remember that when I take the ten-mile detour to my ranch.” He folded his arms over his chest and looked down at her. Steam was practically coming out of her ears. “And if I engaged in vengeful behavior, it’d be a lot more creative than having someone blackballed at Cooper’s.” His voice was little more than a growl, but it must have carried, because he heard the wheels of a grocery cart come to an abrupt halt behind him, then start moving again.
“People are looking,” Alex said in a hissing whisper.
“Of course they’re looking. Wouldn’t you?” He glanced over to see Mary Watkins and her three kids staring at them as they loaded their SUV with groceries. And the cart that had stopped so abruptly behind him was being pushed by Lester Granger, who would totally enjoy spreading this tale at the co-op coffee klatch. Nick smiled tightly and raised a hand at his neighbors.
Nothing to see here, folks.
Mary waved back.
When Nick shifted his attention back to Alex, she let out a breath that seemed to come from her toes. “I need to go.”
The expression she’d worn when he’d come to her ranch that first day was back. Half cautious, half defiant. Fully self-protective. What was this woman running from? Was she a criminal? An abused wife on the run? His gaze strayed to her ring finger, which was bare and showed no signs of a ring having been recently removed. Okay, probably not married, but one didn’t need to be married to be abused, and she was as jumpy as he would expect an abuse victim to be. She’d asked him not to judge until he knew her circumstances. Fair enough. Of course, it’d be nice if she explained her circumstances, but he didn’t see that happening anytime soon.
“I’ll talk to Emmie at the building-supply store.”
“I...” She swallowed, obviously not expecting the gesture. “Thank you.” It was as if politeness was so deeply engrained in her that now that her anger had faded, she couldn’t simply get in the car and slam the door like she so obviously wanted to.
“You’re welcome,” he replied. She was there, living on the property he’d wanted, and avoiding her wasn’t going to change the situation. “What did you need at the building supply?”
“A hinge. I’m fostering a dog. I have to have a secure enclosure.”
Fostering, not adopting. As in, she wasn’t committing to anything permanent. That could work out in his favor if he didn’t totally alienate the woman.
“Want me to fix it for you? I’m a contrac—”
“No.” The word burst out of her mouth, and then she glanced around again as if to judge how much attention she’d garnered with this outburst. None, since Mary had driven away, and Lester was now in his truck. She and he were the only people in the parking lot. “All I want from you is the freedom to shop wherever I want.”
“I didn’t blackball you. Emmie asked how things were going and I told her. That’s how things work in towns this size. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. It’s something you learn to live with.” He gave a casual shrug. “Or you leave.”
Her eyebrows lifted in an incredulous expression. “Are you telling me to get out of town?”
“I’m telling you that if you came here to disappear, it isn’t going to work.”
It took her a second to find her voice. “Why did you say that?”
He’d hit a nerve, which told him she actually was running or hiding from something. “Because it’s pretty obvious that you want to disappear. Why else lock yourself behind gates?”
“Privacy.”
“How is that different from disappearing?”
“None of your business.” She yanked the
car door open, and, without thinking, Nick put a hand on the frame to keep her from closing it again. He wanted answers, but he wasn’t yet certain of the questions. When her startled gaze flashed up, he instantly dropped his hand. He hadn’t meant to alarm her, but he had.
“I don’t know what your deal is,” he said quietly, “but I’m not the enemy.”
“I know.” From the way her gaze flickered after she spoke, he had a feeling that she’d surprised herself with the muttered confession.
She got into the car and reached for the door handle.
“If you need your gate fixed, I can do it.”
“No.”
And that was it. No.
She pulled the car door shut and started the engine. Nick stepped back, shoving his fingers into his back pockets. Fine. She could fix her own gate.
He strode toward his truck as she pulled out of the space she’d swung into moments earlier. This woman was driving him nuts.
* * *
MISTAKE.
She’d just made a big one.
What had she been thinking, stopping to yell at Nick Callahan? And she had yelled at him. She, who rarely raised her voice; she, who worked her way around situations instead of plowing through them.
She, who was allergic to confrontation, had just confronted.
And even though she had made a mistake in doing that, a small part of her was proud of herself for addressing the matter.
Although...apparently, her accusation wasn’t true. If she was to believe him, and deep inside she did, he’d told the lumber-store woman about the situation because she’d asked, but he hadn’t demanded that she be blackballed. That had been the woman’s independent response to the situation.
Apparently, in Gavin, Montana, they took care of their own.
Alex loosened her fingers on the steering wheel, forced herself to take a deep cleansing breath and view the situation logically. Her original plan of living invisibly wasn’t working. As near as she could tell, the more invisible one tried to be in this area, the more one stood out. She was already known as the woman who wanted to keep to herself, lock out the world, and what better way to get tongues wagging and the locals guessing as to why she wanted to lock out the world?