by Jen Peters
It wouldn’t be the first time she had a crush on a guy who didn’t return it. It was a fact of life that she’d had to deal with for fifteen of her twenty-six years, ever since freckle-faced Johnny Biggs laughed at her when she was eleven. She knew how to handle it—she’d mope for a few days and get back to normal, just like always.
Robin locked the front door behind the last customer and went for the cleaning supplies. She and her mom had the closing routine down to a system. While she stacked chairs on tables, she determined to fill those next few days with good things to do, not let herself get too down.
“All I’ve got left to do is vacuum,” she told her mother a few minutes later. “And I was thinking. Have you seen Mr. Brown lately? How’s he doing?”
“George?” Her mother frowned, scrubbing at the last bit of grease on a griddle. “Still grieving, of course—it takes time. Mattie was his life. But I think he’s adjusting a bit.”
“Shouldn’t it be a relief to not have all the cancer stuff to deal with anymore? She needed so much care at the end.” Robin wondered if she would have been strong enough to do everything Mr. Brown must have done.
Her mother looked at her. “You have to understand, honey, that his life was filled with caring for her. And now that his daughter’s gone back home, he’s not only alone, he’s completely at loose ends without much to fill his time.”
Robin pondered that while she vacuumed around table legs. How hard it would be to get on with life after loving someone for more than fifty years, but also how she wished she’d find someone who would love her like that someday. She shook off the thought. Not going to happen until some guy actually returned her crush. Even then, her track record of trusting people made it unlikely.
It wasn’t that she was unlovable, but other than her best friend Ree, she’d never given her allegiance to anyone who didn’t stomp on it later. First there was Raine, a supposed best friend who had betrayed her, then a handsome boyfriend she had known was out of her league, but come on, did he really have to set her up for ridicule in front of all his frat brothers? One more time being completely embarrassed in front of a crowd, one more time she should have held onto her heart.
She sighed as she put the vacuum away. Then there was Cliff. She could still feel the flutters from when she first saw him. He would have been easy to talk to when they went to the vet if she hadn’t felt so nervous. She didn’t know how much she could open up to him, but she’d like to at least go out with him.
Her shoulders slumped. He’d been pretty adamant with his grandmother that there was nothing between them, and then he hadn’t bothered to come in to the restaurant that evening. He probably didn’t even notice her as a girl, just someone who took care of dogs. He probably had a girlfriend somewhere and wouldn’t be available anyway.
So…what?
Robin hauled the garbage out the back door, dropping it into the can and slamming the lid. So she’d work hard, forget about love and marriage, and just be an auntie to Justin and Cat’s kids when they came along. Whatever. She had the dogs, after all, and they needed her. And she was hopeful that one of those dogs would have a home and a purpose soon—helping Mr. Brown through a tough time.
Between the dogs and the restaurant, her time was full. It really was. She needed to search out a few more families who might not realize they needed a dog—her mother was getting rather tired of having too many four-legged critters underfoot. She definitely did not have time for a guy.
Late the next morning, she knocked on Mr. Brown’s door with Soldier. The German shepherd mix stood obediently at her side, balancing just fine on his three legs and nuzzling her hand occasionally.
There was no answer, but she knew the old widower was home. She peeked through the curtains, then rang the bell again.
Finally, she heard shuffling footsteps. The door opened, and Mr. Brown’s big body loomed. He scowled at her.
“Robin, I told you I don’t want no dog.”
“I know, Mr. Brown. I was just out walking Soldier and I was thinking about you, so I thought I’d stop for a visit.”
“Hmmph, well.” He turned back to the living room, but didn’t close the front door.
Robin took that as an invitation and pulled the screen door open, Soldier on her heels.
She walked through to the living room. The flowered sofa was perfectly tidy, but the floor and side table next to a recliner showed where Mr. Brown spent his time. She looked at pictures scattered round the room. His wife in the garden, him with grandkids at the beach, an old Army picture of him, an even older wedding picture.
“She really was beautiful, wasn’t she?” Robin asked.
“Most beautiful girl in the world,” he said.
“How are you doing? Do you need anything?”
“Wish people would stop asking that question,” he grumbled. “I don’t need anything. Least not what anyone can give me.”
Robin didn’t know what to say. She patted Soldier and turned back to the pictures. “I’m sorry,” she finally murmured.
“Hmmph.” Silence, then abruptly, “You play checkers?”
Robin turned quickly. The old man was looking at the floor. “Sure, I could go for a game.”
He set up quickly on the dinette table and Robin took a seat across from him, tipping lightly back and forth on an uneven chair leg. Soldier hopped over and sat with his head on her knee.
They played, sometimes slowly, sometimes fast and furious. By the time Mr. Brown triple-jumped her and crowned his last single player, Soldier has somehow slid over to him. His long nose rested not on Mr. Brown’s knee, but on the table, his brown eyes watching the moves.
“You like that move, boy?” Mr. Brown said. “She hasn’t got a hope in Hades now.”
Soldier quirked his eyebrows at him, then looked back at the board.
Robin sighed. Mr. Brown was right, but she wouldn’t give up without a fight. She slid a marker to be crowned. “There!”
Mr. Brown worked his way back across the board while she desperately tried to get another king. By the time the widower won, he was patting Soldier between moves.
Robin shook her head. “I think he’s helping you, Mr. Brown. I’ve never been beaten so fast.”
“Just need more practice, girl,” he said. “So let’s get you some.”
They played two more games, and then Robin excused herself. Mr. Brown walked them to the door. “Nice dog,” he said, patting Soldier again. “But I know what you’re up to, and I don’t want him.”
Robin grinned. “Checkers tomorrow?”
Mr. Brown scowled. “Got a bunch of doctor’s tests tomorrow.”
“Okay, then, how about the next day?”
The scowl didn’t leave Mr. Brown’s face. “We’ll see.” And he shut the door behind them.
Robin stared at it for a minute, then tugged Soldier’s leash. “We’ll definitely play more checkers,” she told him cheerfully, “and you’ll keep convincing him.”
Chapter 4
The rain started in sprinkles, stopped, then started again and stayed steady. Cliff’s weather app said it would continue all day. Aunt Jess and Uncle Phil smiled at each other—the last cutting of alfalfa was safely in, and the dryland pastures needed the moisture. It also meant that he, Phil, and Jory would be moving cattle in the rain, but that didn’t matter so much. Zeus, didn’t seem to mind the wet. Buckshot, Jory’s horse, was a different story—he kept his ears pinned and tail twitching the whole time.
It was an easy pasture rotation for the three of them and two dogs, a definite change from the huge rangeland in Montana. Not near as many cattle and only a fraction of the acreage. The downside was needing to move irrigation pipe, but that was tomorrow’s task. Right now the morning work was done, and Cliff headed for a shower.
Halfway into town to visit his grandmother again, he saw a huddled animal on the side of the road. He pulled over, grabbed a short, frayed rope from behind the seat, and reached into his pocket. Nothing but a pie
ce of carrot that he hadn’t given Zeus. He hunkered down to approach the muddy mutt and offered it anyway. The bedraggled thing scarfed up the carrot like he was starving—which he probably was considering how much Cliff could feel his ribs.
“Sorry I don’t have anything else,” he murmured. The dog was friendly enough when Cliff reached out a hand to pet him. He couldn’t feel a collar beneath the mud and tangles. “Come on,” he said, looping the old rope around his neck. A grubby towel dried them both off a bit.
“What am I supposed to do with you?” The mutt looked at him with eager eyes, then licked his hand. “Okay, okay, I get it. Find you some food somewhere, right?”
Cliff pulled out his phone. Found a dog, need Robin’s address, he texted his aunt. Jess pinged right back, and Cliff was on his way.
He admired the tidy one-level house as he pulled up. The front yard was welcoming with yellow and orange flowers and a rocking chair on the porch. Robin would probably be just as welcoming, and he steeled himself to withstand any bits of attraction he might feel. “I need to get a grip, don’t I, little fellow. Come on, time to meet someone to help you.” He ignored the mud—his clothes were covered already—and helped the dog down from the seat of the truck.
The doorbell sounded, but a cacophony of barking drowned out everything past the first note, just what he should have expected at Robin’s house. His stray let out a woof in return.
He heard Robin shush the dogs before she opened the door, her eyes widening to see him. “Here,” he motioned, “I brought you a new project.”
She grinned and knelt, greeting the dog with rubs and happy talk. Then she took his rope and glanced at Cliff’s face. She quickly looked back at the dog, but not before his heart turned a flip. Her smile was just as bright as he remembered, although he couldn’t tell if his memory of brown eyes was accurate—she didn’t look at him long enough.
He felt for his keys in his pocket, and then she looked at him again—yes, her eyes really were the color of milk chocolate—and invited him in.
He should have said no. Should have gotten back in his muddy truck with his muddy clothes. But somehow he found himself seated on a ragged towel to protect the plaid sofa, and surrounded by five dogs. Or was it seven?
Robin introduced the dogs surrounding him: a greyhound type called Chance, a boxy, muscular dog named Buster, and Jello, a chubby golden retriever. “And you know Augie,” she finished.
“What about him—how’s he doing?” Cliff pointed to the dog with the cast, who looked mournfully through the walls of a small, fenced pen.
“Jinx? He’s—”
“You named him Jinx?” Cliff interrupted.
Robin grinned. “Partly from our joke, and partly because he seemed jinxed the first few days. He tried to get out and a lamp tipped over on him, and then Buster grabbed his ear over his pen and wouldn’t let go.”
“Jinx.” Cliff looked at the dog. “It’s a good name.”
“I thought so. Choosing names is only one of my many talents, besides pouring coffee and remembering orders.”
Cliff had to turn away from the sparkle in her eyes. “So, he’s getting along with the cast?”
Robin nodded. “He puts his weight on it, but Dr. Jan doesn’t want him in the backyard yet. Right now it’s mostly just getting him used to being around people again. He’s bored though—can’t chase balls and can’t play with the other dogs.”
Cliff felt for the dog. Being cooped up was why he didn’t go live with his mother and aunt in Salem. He wouldn’t survive without working out in the open air, with miles of range to ride in. Or if not open range, then forestry roads or deer trails.
He looked at the dogs clustered around Robin. “They’re all rescues? What will you do with them all? Or are you just running a retirement home for unwanted pets?”
She smiled, stroking the muddy stray he had brought, not seeming to care if her clothes got filthy. “Oh no, they come and go. Once I get to know them, I’m pretty good at matching up dogs with someone in town who needs some extra love and companionship.”
His eyes widened. “You find individual homes for all these?”
She shrugged. “It’s just something I like to do. I can trust dogs, and they can trust me. And it’s not like I have a lot else to do.”
He grinned. “So you spend entire days petting dogs while you eat bon-bons and watch soap operas?”
“Oh yes,” she said airily, “it’s a life of luxury, complicated only by massive amounts of dog hair. But then, of course, I have a maid to handle that while I’m off pouring coffee.”
He stroked the dog closest to him and came away with a handful of loose fur. “And a groomer, too?”
“No groomer could ever keep up with these guys, so that falls on me.”
Her eyes sparkled, but his mind was suddenly blank. “So you work at your mom’s restaurant? Do you like it?”
She shrugged. “It’s okay for now, and Mom needs me.”
Cliff was puzzled. She had sort of withdrawn when the joking stopped. “So what would you like to do? Instead of waitressing, I mean.”
Robin busied herself rubbing Augie under the chin. “I did go to college. Got my degree in marketing, actually, but I’m just not cut out for it.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I can see you in marketing.” Then he laughed. “You ought to be running an animal shelter—you’re already doing it, really.”
Robin just shrugged again and reached to pat another dog, a German Shepherd with a missing hind leg. Something told him she was evading the question, using the dogs as a barricade. Well, that was all right—he had his own issues hidden behind a fence in his head. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he said finally, reaching a hand to her arm.
The touch sent another tingle up his own arm. This time it made him want to wrap her in his arms and protect her.
He needed to rein in his thoughts. She was safe, had a nice house, a good family, and a ton of pets. What could there be to protect her from?
She looked at him from under the thickest lashes he’d seen without makeup, then looked around at the animals. “I really could start a shelter.” She sounded like she’d never thought of it before.
Cliff petted the pudgy Golden, who looked like he’d climb into Cliff’s lap if he could get his feet off the ground. Chunky Buster flopped onto his belly in front of Robin. She rolled her eyes, but rubbed him until his whole body relaxed.
“They’ve got you well trained, don’t they?” he said.
Robin just smiled. She didn’t realize it yet, but Cliff suspected she would find her life’s work this way.
He wished there was something permanent in his life. He harbored a secret hope that maybe, just maybe, he could stay at the ranch and someday take over from his uncle. Phil and Jess had two daughters, but only one lived close. Carla was a divorced teacher who lived in town and still liked to ride occasionally, but wasn’t interested in ranching herself.
On the other hand, reality said that it wasn’t his own home or ranch, and never really would be. He was just marking time. Dad had been gone six months, but he was just as aimless as after the funeral.
Which was stupid. He was a grown man, he didn’t need his father telling him what to do all the time. But Dad had been his north star, giving Cliff a reference point for his life and the man he wanted to be. At twenty-eight, he’d thought he was well on his way. Now? Now he felt like an apprehensive teenager with a million decisions waiting.
In the meantime, he could at least go for a ride with this pretty girl who warmed his heart. Nothing long term, nothing romantic, just a ride, right?
Except he had thought he wanted to get off the ranch for a while, do something different. Now he was thinking that maybe she needed to get away for a bit.
He looked back at her, only to find her glancing at him.
“If you find any more strays, be sure to call me,” she said. “Or bring them by, although that would be hard if I’m on shift.”
<
br /> That sounded like a dismissal. Reluctantly, he stood and gently pushed the retriever away. Robin stood with him and walked him to the door.
“I’ll see you around, right?” he asked, suddenly hesitant.
She nodded. “Thanks for bringing the dog over. I’ll get him into a bath.”
No more words came to Cliff, so he lifted a hand in farewell and stepped down from the porch. Then he forced himself to turn and step right back up again. “Hey, want to go riding sometime?”
Robin blinked. “I’ve only been on a horse twice in my life. A long, long time ago.”
“That’s okay, I’ve got just the one for you.” Cliff jogged down the steps with a grin on his face. Friends, he reminded his heart. Just friends.
Chapter 5
Robin played a morning game of fetch with the outdoor dogs and laughed as Augie raced around, trying to grab the ball from dogs twice his size. Sometimes he made it—the others were big, but he was fast and agile. Augie settled with it between his paws until Cliff’s new rescue, still without a name, pawed it away and they were off again.
When they were all out of breath, they flopped under a tree for a petting session, and then Robin went inside to give some attention to Jinx. She took a big pillow and stepped over the play yard that kept him penned up.
His tail dropped and he barked as she settled on the pillow, but he took a tentative step, his cast thumping on the floor, and then sat a foot away from her for a moment. Nothing more than that, but that was a huge improvement over the last week. He must have been on his own for a long time, or else had never had owners he had warmed up to.
She wondered yet again why people would just discard their pets like trash. They might not be human, but they were sentient beings and family members just the same. If she could gather up all the unwanted animals in the world and find homes for them, she’d be happier than she could imagine.
Cliff’s comment flitted through her mind again, and this time she let it settle. To start a real animal shelter. Here, in McCormick’s Creek. Was it even possible?