by Jen Peters
Cliff pulled Robin to the ring toss, and she held the goldfish while he won a stuffed bear. Then she dragged him over to the hula hoop contest, glee and anticipation bubbling inside of her.
Cliff blanched and she giggled. “Come on, you can let your hair down, too.”
“I-I can’t. I’ll take care of the goldfish.”
“Nuh-uh. The goldfish will be safe against the wall.” She took the small blue bear from his hands and set it out of the way with the goldfish. “You’re not afraid of a little hoop, are you?”
He groaned and murmured something. It might have been ‘the things you do for love,’ but she wasn’t quite sure.
They both took hoops, and Robin held hers around her waist confidently. Cliff stepped into his and raised it, glowering at her. “No grown man should be made to do this.”
Robin only grinned. “Come on, we’ll give you some practice tries. You have to swing your hips like this.” She demonstrated, keeping her hoop going round after round as easily as she’d done when she was twelve.
Cliff swung his hips and the hoop dropped. He picked it up and tried again. Drop. He grabbed it, flung it in a sideways arc and gyrated wildly.
Robin clapped her hands over her mouth, but her hoop dropped and laughter burst out anyway, along with the crowd that had gathered.
And Cliff kept going.
“Keep it up!” someone called.
“You got this!” came from another. Then the crowd began chanting: one, two three…
Sweaty, red-faced, and concentrating furiously, Cliff kept the rhythm and the hoop kept circling. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight…
He glanced at Robin. She grinned back and blew him a kiss. And the hoop dropped.
Cliff heaved a sigh, the crowd clapped and cheered, and Robin leaped to hug him. “You were incredible!”
“That’s me, Mr. Incredible. Until you distracted me, anyway.”
“So I’m distracting?” Robin rested her forehead against his.
“Very.” He planted a quick kiss on her lips and set her on the ground. “But how about some kind of dancing I’m used to, instead of the carnival stuff?”
Robin picked up the goldfish, tucked the bear into her pocket, and linked her arm in his. “Anything you say, Mr. Incredible.”
In the gym, the music was louder and the lights were dimmer. It wasn’t as dark as some of her school dances had been, but a nice change from the hyperactive atmosphere in the cafeteria carnival.
Cliff set the goldfish in a corner, and they joined the line dance as Achy Breaky Heart played. “Oldies, huh?” he half-shouted.
Robin just nodded, following the moves of those in front. This was one dance she could do, and she admired his moves as they danced. He could grapevine and shift his hips with the best of them, and she loved the stomp of his boot heels on the wood floor.
The song ended before she was ready. Out of breath, she let herself be pulled into Cliff’s arms. She loved it—the heady feeling of being wrapped in his strength, held close enough that his breath brushed her ear. But she stepped on the side of his foot almost immediately, and stumbled over her own five seconds later.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t danced much.”
“Relax,” he whispered. “Let me do the work.” He worked his way backwards, letting her have the easier forward steps, guiding her one way or the other with subtle pressure on her back.
She wasn’t sure how smooth she was, but she at least didn’t walk on him again until the next dance.
Three fast songs, two slow ones, and another line dance later, Robin felt like she was in a fairy tale. She was Cinderella, coming from a life of work and no boyfriends, and he was Prince Charming, choosing to dance with her from all the other lovelies at the ball. She really didn’t want to turn into a pumpkin at midnight, though. Maybe she was Beauty and he was the Beast? Except he wasn’t—he was the nicest guy she’d ever known.
Robin sighed, back in Cliff’s luscious arms while Sinatra crooned over the speakers. She lifted her head off his shoulder, and he turned to meet her eyes. His own twinkled and he leaned down to kiss her. Softy, gently, tenderly.
She could stay wrapped in Cliff’s strength forever. He was good and kind and honorable. Maybe, just maybe, he was someone she could trust wholly, someone to be both a fairy-tale love and a best friend who had her back.
Chapter 16
Late the next morning, Robin clipped leashes on Jello and Rascal, the muddy mophead Cliff had brought after Jinx. She had just enough time to walk them before her shift at the restaurant. They weren’t so rambunctious that she couldn’t handle the two of them together, and Rascal’s short legs would let Jello and his waddle keep pace.
She wanted to soak up the September sunshine while she could—October would be beautiful but cooler. She led the dogs down the sunny side of the street, past a playground, and up toward the creek.
Cliff had been a good sport the night before—she couldn’t think of anyone else who would have accepted her hula hoop challenge. And oh, could he dance! He could even make a klutz like her seem smooth. The feel of his arms guiding her, the scent of him—a mixture of soap and aftershave and just a hint of horse—she could have danced all night.
A solid jerk on her arm brought her back to reality, where Rascal was pulling to cross the street to a cat. She shushed him, made him sit, and gave him a treat, all while placid Jello looked on. Jello really was a sweetheart, so despite his diet, she tore a treat in half to reward him for good behavior.
“Look, Mommy!” a small voice shouted. “Dogs!”
A mother with a stroller and a preschooler approached. “May we pet him?” the mother asked, looking at Rascal.
“Sure,” Robin said, making Rascal sit again.
The young girl knelt in front of him and brushed back his shaggy eyebrows. The mother parked the stroller and joined her.
“He’s soft,” the girl said.
“He had a bath a couple days ago,” Robin answered. “His name is Rascal, and this is Jello.”
Jello had inched over to the stroller, and the toddler inside reached out to pet him. The dog stood sideways and leaned, and the child giggled and patted him.
“Jello is a funny name,” the older girl said, deserting Rascal in favor of the golden retriever.
“Well, when he found us, he was even fatter than he is now, and when he walked, he jiggled like Jell-o.”
“He found you?” the mother said, still petting Rascal.
Robin nodded. “Dogs get dumped a lot around here. I find them or they find me, and after they get settled in, I try to find new homes for them.”
“Mommy! Last night you said we could get a dog!”
The mother pursed her lips. “I’m not sure I meant this instant, sweetheart.”
“But I love Jello!”
“Jello is nice, Olivia, but I was thinking a dog more like this one. Smaller.”
Robin spoke up. “Rascal was only brought to me a few days ago. I think he’s nice, but I really don’t know him yet. And Golden Retrievers like Jello are great family dogs—they’ll put up with just about anything, from dressing up to getting their fur tugged.”
The mother stood. “We’ll think about it, sweetie.” She turned to Robin. “Do you have any other dogs? And how can I contact you?”
They traded phone numbers, and the little family headed on to the park. Robin checked the time and pulled the dogs the other way.
“Time for us to go, you two. But cross your fingers, Jello—you might have a new home.”
* * *
Cliff spent Saturday recovering from hula-hooping and cleaning out two more stalls in the old hay barn. He’d put Emily’s horse in an extra stall in the main barn, but Cliff figured it wouldn’t be a bad thing to have another stall ready if other family friends wanted to come.
“It was wonderful,” Emily said, riding back in at dusk. “I really appreciate this, you know. It’s just not something I can do at a city stable.”
“I im
agine it’s a little hard to find trails to ride.” Cliff hauled the wheelbarrow out of the stall, leaving the bare dirt floor to air out.
She dismounted smoothly and stretched. “You got that right. I mostly followed the river today, but Carla’s going to ride with me tomorrow, and she said we might see bald eagles up near the ridge.”
“Good chance of it,” Cliff said. He’d like to take Robin up there sometime, but she’d need a little more experience riding first. There was some open space on the ridge where they could have a picnic, especially if they went while it was still decent weather.
Emily walked her horse to the main barn. Cliff put the equipment away and went to say goodnight to Zeus.
“Big day tomorrow, buddy. For me, not you.” He slipped the gelding a carrot and patted his neck. When Carla came out to ride, Aunt Jess usually had a ball with the two little boys. But Jess was still elbow-deep in canning, so Cliff was going to take over for some of it.
By two o’clock on Sunday, Cliff was exhausted. He’d given piggy-back rides, real horseback rides, helped the boys “brush” Zeus, and taken them to the playground in town.
Now, he gave a sigh of relief as he buckled two-year-old Joey into his car seat. The child didn’t even wake up. “Does he always sleep like this?” Cliff asked Elijah.
“I guess,” Elijah said. “Sometimes his head goes all the way sideways, and he looks like he’s gonna fall out of his car seat.”
“And what does your mom do then?”
Elijah shrugged as only five-year-olds could and buckled himself into his booster seat. “Just keeps driving. Sometimes he wakes up when we get home, and sometimes Mom puts him in his bed.”
Cliff looked back at the sleeping toddler, slumped into an uncomfortable ball. Babies had no bones.
“Time to get you back to your mommy,” he said, checking Elijah’s seat belt. The slides, swings and rocket fort had been fun for a bit, but he was a whole lot more familiar with horses and cattle than young children.
Both kids were asleep by the time he got back to the ranch. Uncle Phil came out to greet him, peering in the windows quietly.
“You do all right?”
“Sure,” Cliff said. “Just treated them like weanlings who don’t know anything, and we were great. Mostly. Are Carla and Emily back yet?”
Phil shook his head. “Maybe another hour or so. Emily said she has to get her horse back and settled in his stable before too late.” He looked again at the sleeping kids. “Let’s get them inside. Think we can do it without waking them?”
Cliff only grinned. He lifted Joey out, the boy’s head flopping on his shoulder like a heavy sack of grain. A warm, drooly sack of grain.
On the other side of the car, Uncle Phil crooned, “Okay, Elijah, just let Grandpa get this confounded buckle undone, and we’ll get you inside and you can finish your nap on the couch.”
But Elijah stirred and opened his eyes. “Grandpa!” He wiggled his head to help Grandpa get the harness off him, then raised his arms to be lifted up.
“I don’t think it’s going to be too quiet around here,” Cliff said, smiling. “I should have worn him out some more.”
Phil closed the door with his foot and turned. “Hallelujah, we’re saved.”
Cliff peered toward the mountains and finally made out two horses jogging along. Carla was back.
When Joey was settled in the port-a-crib, Cliff went out to greet his cousin and her friend. “Have a nice ride?”
Carla dismounted with a smooth swing of her leg. “I can’t tell you how much I needed that. Living in town starts to close in on me, and I just have to get out here. Were the boys okay?”
“Just fine,” Phil said, holding Elijah’s hand.
Cliff laughed. “Easy for you to say—you weren’t the one at the park with them!”
Carla slugged him lightly. “You were brave. You’re getting all the dad-prep you need right here.”
Dad-prep. He reeled, blindsided by the phrase. His nephews were fun to play with, and he was happy to help Carla out, but somehow he had never connected watching them with having his own someday.
He couldn’t picture it. Kids? How many? And who was their mother?
Robin’s soft face and shiny hair came into his mind, and he shook his head to clear it. No, way too soon for that. One date did not a relationship make, no matter how well they danced together or how entrancing her kisses were.
He’d quit counting their kisses—he snuck one whenever he got a chance. But it was amazing how deeply they had connected in just a few weeks. He’d never had this with any girlfriend before. Not that there had been a ton of them, but still… he felt something with Robin that he hadn’t even known existed.
Cliff still didn’t know where he was going with his life, but maybe that didn’t matter as much as he had thought it did. And somehow, he felt that his dad was looking down, approving, telling him he didn’t need to feel guilty for not grieving as much anymore.
By the time Cliff tuned into the conversation again, Emily was over-emoting about her weekend. “This was more incredible than I imagined! We saw a bunch of hawks and even a bald eagle! And a Woody Woodpecker! And up over the ridge—what a view! So much more peaceful than some other places I’ve ridden, and such a stress release! I can’t thank you enough!”
Phil nodded through her exclamations. “Glad you enjoyed it. Come back any time.”
“Oh, I will, I definitely will! You’ve got a great place here! And, oh—here, Carla, take him.” She handed her reins to Carla and dashed to her car. She came back in a moment and thrust some money at Phil. “I know you don’t charge for this, but it meant so much, and you really ought to take something.”
Phil pushed her hand away. “No can do. Can’t set a price on hospitality for a friend.”
“But—” she sputtered. “I’d have to pay a fortune at a guest ranch and you—”
Phil stepped back. “We’re no hoity-toity dude ranch, just a working outfit with an old barn to offer. Glad you had a good time, though.”
Phil took Elijah inside. Emily’s smile disappeared and her shoulders sank. She took her horse’s reins and walked him dejectedly to the horse trailer.
Carla just shrugged. “You know Dad.”
Cliff nodded, proud to be part of a family that took care of other people. Once when four of Dad’s ranch hands came down with the measles at the same time, Uncle Phil had left a sick mare and foal in Jory’s care and came to Wyoming just to help Dad with branding. Dad had definitely needed his help, but the foal at home ended up dying. Phil had just said, “Family comes first.”
Carla went off to unsaddle Cassie, and Cliff headed for the tractor—there was still work to be done. He couldn’t help thinking about family, though. Someday he’d have a family like this. Someday he’d be the type of man his dad and Uncle Phil were. At twenty-eight, he liked to think he was well on his way, but sometimes it was hard to tell.
Chapter 17
Sunday evening got even better for Robin when Cliff showed up at her door, cowboy hat in one hand and wildflowers in the other. “I’ve got a few hours to relax, if you promise there are no hula hoops around,” he said with a quirk of a smile.
Her insides went warm and smooshy at the sight of him. “No hula hoops, just plenty of dog hair. And the flowers are lovely.” Once she had them settled in a jar with water, she tugged Cliff over to the couch.
“I’ve been working on my animal shelter presentation,” she said, adjusting her laptop so he could see it easily. The solid warmth of his thigh against hers did make it hard to concentrate.
Cliff leaned in for a kiss, and she gave up the computer for a few luscious minutes. The taste of his mouth, the bit of stubble along his jaw, the feel of his hands in her hair…
He pulled away slowly, then gave her one more soft touch of his lips. “So what have you got here?”
Robin wanted more of his kisses and reached her fingers up to trace along his hairline. Then she drew back—it was proba
bly good to not spend the whole time kissing when things could easily lead further than either of them was ready for.
“I’m about halfway done,” she said as her mind made a slow shift. She brought the computer back to life and proudly scrolled through her Power Point images.
Scrawny dogs, injured dogs, Jinx in a cast, all labeled with short phrases telling a bit of their story. Other slides told how many dogs she had rescued, gave the county estimates for the number of strays, and showed pictures of adopted dogs with their new families. “I still need some statistics from the other shelters—how full they are, whether they euthanize or not, how far they are from here.”
Cliff whistled. “You’re really good with this. So how come you don’t do this as a job?”
Robin snorted. “Yeah, right. Standing up in front of groups isn’t one of my strong points.”
“But—”
She shook her head. She wasn’t ready to relive the bad times again. It was so much easier to focus on what was in front of her. “I’m almost ready to call the town council and get on the agenda for the next meeting. I think I need some people to speak for me, though. You know, say how much we need a shelter and stuff.”
“I’d speak for you, except…”
“Except you just moved here, I know.”
“Yeah, but Uncle Phil would be great, wouldn’t he?”
Robin nodded. “And the Frasiers, who adopted a husky cross this summer. All of my dog families, really. I guess I’ve got a lot of phone calls to make.” Robin closed her laptop and stood up. “That’s enough of that, for now anyway. Let’s go sit outside.”
She grabbed a couple sodas from the fridge and led Cliff out to the porch swing on the back deck. Her mother’s flowered cushions were plump and inviting, and the evening was cool enough that Cliff was sure to put his arm back around her shoulders.
They popped their sodas with a fizz and nestled together. The warmth from Cliff’s body was just enough to keep Robin comfortable, and she inhaled deeply. He wasn’t sweaty, but still carried a scent of horses, hay, and leather, with maybe a bit of oil. He must have been on the tractor today. Whatever it was, it was uniquely Cliff and she couldn’t get enough of it.