Rescued by a Stranger

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Rescued by a Stranger Page 12

by Lizbeth Selvig


  “It must to this one. The way she was standing in that road the other day not moving, I could easily have hit her. And then to still be in that spot, alive, over twenty-four hours later? Shall we call you Angel?” Jill patted the dog’s damp sides.

  “Aww, don’t name her.” Chase groaned. “She must have owners.”

  “Somewhere, but I doubt they’re from town. If she was missing, there’d be signs and her people would have called the clinic.”

  “But you name her, you’ll wanna keep her. I know this about girls.”

  “Oh, is that right, smart guy? And where would I keep her? I told you my mother doesn’t allow dogs in the house.”

  “I’m just sayin’.”

  “Well, you keep talking. I’m going to find her some food. I’ll be right back.”

  Angel started barking the moment the door closed, and Jill heard Chase take up a calming baritone croon. Excitement shimmied through her at the rumble of his voice. The shivery memory of his hand around hers in the tub sent a little wave of guilt washing over her pleasure. She had all but ordered Chase to help her, and he didn’t deserve to be entangled in this covert operation. Elaina really would be angry if she found out.

  Jill searched the fridge for leftovers or sandwich makings. She came up with two pieces of meatloaf and three hard-boiled eggs, along with a cup of leftover peas. She carried the gleanings to the guesthouse, and Chase opened the door, laughing.

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t leave again. She spent the entire fifteen minutes you were gone whining and staring out the window.”

  “My goodness!” Jill set the food on the small table in the kitchenette—one of three perfectly decorated spaces in the tiny house. “You missed me, Angel? Did you miss me?”

  Angel smeared her face with kisses and shoved her head beneath Jill’s hand for petting. But as soon as she’d gotten a good dose of attention, she stopped begging and settled beside Chase on the couch, as if there’d been no problem at all, to watch Jill fill a bowl with the food. When she finally tucked into the makeshift supper, both humans were momentarily forgotten.

  “What a strange little thing.” Jill plopped beside Chase on the couch while Angel gobbled. “It’s almost like she’s doing things on purpose. Watching and plotting and executing.”

  “Okay, don’t anthropomorphize.”

  “Woo, Mr. Triumph, you got yourself a big vocabulary.”

  “I grew up around a lot of animals. Real men aren’t allowed to turn dogs into people. Chaz Preston Animal Behavior 101.”

  “Who’s Chaz?”

  “My daddy. Short for Charles. As is Chase for that matter.”

  “Seriously? You’re a Charlie?”

  “Goes back to Scotland. Firstborn Preston boys have been Charles with a clunker of a Scottish middle name for six generations.”

  “You have a bad middle name?” She wriggled closer to him, teasing. “Whisper it. I won’t tell.”

  “It’s not bad, just very old-fashioned. In me own case,” he adopted a passable brogue, “ye’ll be callin’ me Angus, lassie.”

  “Angus! I love it.” She giggled her approval, letting his semi-embarrassed smile warm her. “Charles Angus. It rolls around kinda nice on the tongue.”

  “Until kids at school find out and start calling you Where’s the Beef?”

  “You made that up!”

  “Why would I do that? It was hurtful and painful and it made me cry.” His eyes shone with humor.

  “It made you tough and sarcastic. Like the boy named Sue.”

  “That’s it.”

  “Whatever all it did to you, it also made you sort of nice. A lot of the time. So, thanks, Charles Angus.”

  “You’re welcome Jill … ?

  “Jillian Michelle. After my father, in fact. Julian Michael.”

  “Here’s to fathers.” Chase bumped knuckles with her. She didn’t make the caustic retort dying to come out.

  The weight of the day closed in around her like fog over moonlight. The call from Chase this morning, her unwarranted anger, the rock-pitching incident, and the Connery employee’s monumental anger. On top of everything, the memory of her lesson with Becky Barnes floated into the mix.

  “What?” Chase asked.

  “What what?”

  “You sighed, or groaned or something.”

  “Did I?” She yawned. “I was thinking about Becky. She makes me groan. What did I do to deserve her?”

  “I think it really is, what could she possibly have managed to get right so she deserves you. You kept a kid who wanted to be anywhere but on a horse, on a horse. You showed pure patience in the face of one major piss and vinegar act.”

  “ ‘Mule,’ I believe, was the word you used.” Jill cocked a sardonic eyebrow.

  Chase leaned sideways and nudged her with his shoulder. “Mules are okay. Don’t let anybody tell you differently. And it’s possible you’re just the mule to give Rebecca Barnes a swift kick in the behind.”

  Jill’s head buzzed with the affirmation. David told her all the time she was a good teacher, but David was, well, David. Proper British over-politeness in a good-looking, hardworking package.

  “I usually like teaching. This afternoon I came close to changing my mind.”

  “Aw, don’t give up yet, honey. Think about it, you might teach that girl to sit a horse someday. And heaven help her if she happened to learn a little respect along the way.”

  The compliment warmed her to her toes and astonished her with its positive breakdown of a job she’d always considered mostly goofing off. If she had to make money to pay some bills, what better way than sloughing off real work to boss around people who wanted to ride horses?

  “You’re a nice guy, Preston.”

  He wriggled as if trying to escape the compliment. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  “I have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn again tomorrow. Look.” She scooted forward on the couch. “I don’t need my truck while I’m working—at either job. If you’re willing to take me to the clinic in the morning and to the stable at around one-thirty, you can have The Creature for the day. Maybe you can track down the coil for the Triumph?”

  “I don’t want to take advantage of you that way.”

  “What advantage?”

  “You’re sure? I could head over to Dewey’s, then, and see what he’s found. Do you all have a library in town that would have a computer?”

  “We do, but you can take my laptop.”

  “Jill.” His fingers wrapped around her upper arm, and she lifted her eyes to his. “Don’t put yourself out for me. Your family has gone above and beyond.”

  “We’re small-town hicks, Chase. We don’t know any better.”

  For long, heavy seconds she couldn’t turn away, and she searched his face. The eyes she’d found deep and welcoming, from the moment she’d seen them through The Creature’s window, now held hers with familiarity. And yet, beneath the surface blue she saw a wall, as if he’d fortified all access points to his inner self.

  “I should go. I—we need to leave by six-twenty. Up to you. ”

  He stood. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

  Her eyes met the collar of his T-shirt six inches away. By tilting her head up she could trace every crease of his throat with her eyes and follow the planes of his jaw and chin to the ends of the dark, thick hair curling behind his ear. The air filled with possibility, and the small space between them crackled with static. A herd of something trying to be light and feathery but tramping around more like uncoordinated rhinos congregated in her stomach.

  “All right,” she said. Her throat squeezed tight with desire around the words.

  Despite the caution in his eyes she could sense his body tensing to match hers. Almost imperceptibly he lowered his head and she stupidly longed for a kiss, wished for what he’d said her sister hadn’t gotten.

  “You’re a lifesaver. You know that,” he said, and brushed a thumb pad over the top of her cheek, branding it
with an icy-hot touch. He straightened, the fantasy moment dissipated, and the heat from his touch turned into the heat of mortification. What was she thinking? She took a quick step backward.

  “It’s been a good couple of days for lifesavers.”

  She took a few steps toward the door, and Angel lifted her nose out of the water dish, concern in her eyes.

  “Don’t worry, girl,” Jill said. “I’ll be close by. You stay here with Chase and he’ll …”

  Angel emitted an almost inaudible whine. By the time Jill opened the door, the dog built to three loud, piercing woofs.

  “Hey, you’ve gotta help us out here.” Chase knelt beside Angel. “I don’t want her go either, but that isn’t how this works. And if you wake up the mistress of this place, your name is homeless again.”

  He didn’t want her to leave?

  She knelt beside him to kiss Angel on the nose. The dog wiggled between them, happy and quiet. “I have to go,” she said. “But I’ll see you in the morning. Promise.”

  Promises didn’t hold water, apparently. Once the door closed between them, the little dog howled. Jill scooted back in, and Angel’s tail wagged her entire body.

  “This is nuts,” Jill said. “Normally I’d let her bark it out, but my mother would be here quicker than the FBI.”

  “Maybe if I was the one to leave? And bunk on a couch?”

  He tested his theory by grabbing a pillow and heading for the door. As soon as he disappeared, Angel’s sharp, continuous barking brought him back.

  “Oh great. What did I get myself into?” Jill groaned. “Two adults held hostage by a mangy dog.”

  Their eyes held for a long minute, but no brilliant solutions came to her. She only found it easier and easier to ignore the problem and simply stare at the lovely man she’d dragged—along with his motorcycle and a slightly psycho stray dog—into this mess.

  “Okay,” she said at last. “I’ll sit here until she falls asleep, then I’ll sneak out.”

  “You really haven’t ever had a dog, have you?” he teased. “They wake up if a bread crumb changes position.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to be quieter than a bread crumb.”

  She curled into a corner of the sofa. Chase took the other end, and Angel, still damp from her bath, hopped happily between them. She didn’t beg for petting or cuddling, she simply laid her head on Jill’s feet, wedged her tail end against Chase’s outer thigh, and sighed.

  “Oh. My. Gosh.” It was as if the dog had some weird plan.

  “You’re going to end up keeping her.”

  “A needy thing like this? She requires a family full of children and other dogs.”

  He grunted.

  Jill rested against the arm of the couch and took in the modern, earth-toned decor. She’d have gone for the more clichéd north woods cabin look, but Elaina was not into pine trees and moose. Georgia O’Keeffe and Laura Ashley were her muses. The effect wasn’t particularly masculine, but at least frilly fabrics had been kept to a minimum.

  “You must be awful tired,” Chase said. “You haven’t stopped moving all day. Want something to drink? There’s a water pitcher in the refrigerator, or I saw hot cocoa mix and some tea.”

  “Are you going to have something?”

  “I’m not a tea man, but I’ll heat some water for the cocoa if you like.”

  “Perfect.”

  He eased from the couch, and Jill closed her eyes. Angel shifted and Jill stroked her head rhythmically. Nothing hurt. Nothing pressed on her body or her mind. Chase didn’t ask her what she’d done today, what she was doing tomorrow or next week or next fall. He shuffled pots in the kitchen, and it sounded safe and comfortable.

  SHE OPENED HER eyes to a dim room. Warmth from a thick quilt cocooned her. Quiet snoring from the end of the sofa filled the room, and she cocked her head to see Angel curled like a little husky at her feet. Chase was nowhere to be seen. Struggling to her seat, she winced slightly at the stiffness in her shoulder and squinted at a mug on the coffee table in the middle of the floor. That’s when she heard it again. The voice that had awoken her.

  “No.” Chase spoke softly, urgently, a note of despair in his voice. “She can’t be gone. You’re the … Brody … have to save her.” His voice trailed off into unintelligible syllables.

  Jill stood, curious but confused. Who was he talking to? Someone in his sleep? What time was it? She pressed the glow button on her watch and read 2:15 a.m.

  “This isn’t our place anymore.” Chase mumbled again. “Didn’t want. My fault. Brody … failed.”

  He was curled into a loose ball on his side, fully clothed, on top of the bed quilt. Nothing moved, he didn’t thrash like a victim of nightmares supposedly did, and the only indication he was dreaming was a slight tic around his closed eyes. A deep frown.

  Carefully she touched his shoulder. “Chase?”

  “Huh?” Like a trap snapping shut, his hand shot out and clamped around her wrist. She screeched. “What the—” he began, and bolted upright. “Jill? What’s wrong?”

  “Oh Lord, I was about to ask you the same thing. You scared the crap out of me.” She looked down at her wrist and he followed her eyes. When he realized how tightly he held her, his fingers sprang open.

  “Sorry! Sorry.” He released a huge sigh and raked his hand through his hair. “You can’t sneak up on a guy from the hood.”

  “The hood?”

  “Memphis. Where I lived, it wasn’t cool to startle someone.”

  “I’m really sorry, too. You were … mumbling in your sleep. I was making sure you’re okay.”

  He rubbed his eyes. “Was I saying anything interesting?”

  “You were trying to save someone.”

  He went still. She stroked the side of his arm. “Is everything okay?”

  “Fine.” He relaxed again. “I, ah, lost a friend recently. I think that must have been the dream.”

  “I’m so sorry. Is that why you left Memphis?”

  “One of the reasons.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  The spark she was growing to love in his eyes returned. “No. You know how it is—your memory playing games in your sleep. I stopped needing to analyze dreams a long time ago.”

  “Okay.”

  His glib explanation didn’t match the words she’d heard him calling out from his sleep, but she wasn’t about to play Freud with his nightmares. She shouldn’t be here.

  The bed creaked as Chase swung his feet off the mattress and stood. Softly he kissed the top of her head, causing her pulse to stutter. “Thanks, though.”

  “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

  “Why are you apologizing? You were tired. I was tired. The dog stayed quiet. We’re all good. Cost nothing but a cup of hot chocolate, and that’s reheatable.”

  “I, should, uh, try to go back to the house.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t know if the dog will like it.”

  He shrugged. They tiptoed to the living room. Angel, just visible in the light spilling through the windows from the moon, cocked one doggy eyebrow but remained silent. When Jill reached the door, she hesitated.

  “Everything’s really all right?” She ventured the question again.

  “It really is.”

  “Good.”

  The house, the world seemed ethereal in the dim light. She had to work hard to keep from kissing his cheek the way he’d done to her crown—it didn’t seem that inappropriate. But it was. “I had a very nice night,” she said instead. “Sleep tight for the rest of it. If the dog goes crazy, call my cell. I’ll come back.”

  “Here’s hoping she does,” he whispered, and flashed Elvis at her.

  She snorted and opened the door. Angel didn’t make a peep.

  Chapter Eleven

  JILL ENTERED SOUTHWATER Vet Clinic the next morning with Angel padding obediently beside her on a makeshift collar and leash.

  The clinic, housed in a beautiful log and fieldstone building, oc
cupied several acres half a mile from Main Street. Over thirty years, Dr. Ben Thomlinson had built his dream facility with three other veterinarians, exceptional skill, tireless dedication, and a savvy eye for the future. He’d trained that eye on Jill when she’d first wandered into the clinic as an all-knees-and-elbows eleven-year-old, treating her childlike fascination for animals with tolerant amusement.

  He’d given her odd jobs that she’d performed eagerly for no more pay than petting the dogs, cats, and horses. Over the years, as her home life had disintegrated, Southwater had become a haven. Odd jobs had turned to real responsibility, Ben’s tolerance to affection, and his affection to respect and love.

  Because of her special affinity for horses, it hadn’t taken long for him to christen her the practice’s horse whisperer, and he planted the idea of vet school early on, although she hadn’t taken to it immediately. As a teen, she’d focused purely on her riding. But he, her mother, and old-fashioned logic had worn her down. Riding horses for a living carried very few chances for success. A stellar recommendation from Ben Thomlinson, one of the top equine vets in the state, however, had helped her gain admission to vet school. And that would take her to the future.

  Jill remembered clearly Ben leaning over his perpetually cluttered desk two years earlier and handing her a check that had more than covered her first year’s books and supplies. “Go,” he’d said. “Learn what’s new. Then come back and teach me.”

  As it turned out, she loved vet school. Until the moment David had mentioned his father’s unexpected move to the United States from England. At the possibility of riding with Colin, Jill hadn’t blinked at the thought she might leave the university.

  Nobody quit vet school.

  Did she really want to quit? Did she have to quit?

  What she did know for certain was that she didn’t want to tell Ben quitting had even crossed her mind. He’d been cheerleader, confidant, and surrogate father. She’d sooner poke her eye out than hurt him. Now, every time she entered the clinic, she dreaded her first meeting of the day with her mentor, certain it would be the moment he read the future in her face.

 

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