But to pair him with a dog, she’d need to know something, wouldn’t she?
He didn’t want her pity and he was sick to death of condolences. Even if he wanted to try having a dog, the last thing he wanted was to reveal any more of his soft, painful underbelly.
He clicked through to the Web site on the card Gayle had given him. Haylee Hansen had her own section devoted to her work with dogs.
“The dogs at Companions with Purpose are trained to perform a variety of tasks, all tailored to the individual needs of the people with whom they are matched. For specialized service dog training, such as certified guide dogs for the visually impaired, or seizure or diabetic alert/response, we will refer you to the appropriate organization. While many of our dogs have gone on to provide such service, our dogs are trained to function primarily as a source of emotional comfort and social support.”
He had grudging admiration for the kind of work Haylee put into her animals, especially given that they were mostly rejects. The photo albums showed her running around courses, taking her dogs through jumps and obstacles, doing what appeared to be obedience trials.
Haylee put in the time, he could see that. During the first two weeks, new arrivals were screened for congenital defects and put through various temperament tests. They were dewormed, vaccinated, groomed, teeth attended to, the whole tune-up. Some dogs, those deemed unsuitable for her program, were rehomed at that point. The others continued with more training.
He looked at a close-up of Haylee with a shaggy dog of no breed that Aiden could recognize, her face pressed close to the slobbering, grinning canine. Her eyes sparkled. Her smile was full and genuine, her teeth white and straight. She looked strong and whole and . . . Purposeful.
Passion, that’s what he saw in her face.
He’d had passion too, once upon a time.
It was clear she loved her work. He’d loved his, too. Now he loved nothing, simply worked to get through the day, to pay the bills, to fill the empty hours and the long stretches of time he’d once never had enough of.
He could barely remember how it felt to hold Garret. His arms ached sometimes, especially at night. How a sweaty two-year-old could have taken up so much of their king-size bed, he still couldn’t fathom. But sometimes, for no reason, he caught a whiff of Garret’s skin and his warm onesies with that fresh-air dryer-sheet scent Michelle had used.
He’d resisted having Garret join them in bed, thinking it was setting a bad precedent. He had to learn to self-soothe, didn’t he? Michelle had said it was better for Garret’s development that he know he could count on them when nightmares woke him and he was most afraid.
Don’t worry, she always mocked him gently, insisting that their son would be sleeping in his own bed by the time he was a teen.
She’d been wrong about that, hadn’t she?
And what he’d give for another chance to feel that little body snuggled up beside him.
Michelle would have a new baby before the end of the year. A new baby, with her new husband. She’d be teaching someone else how to nurture a child.
Aiden hoped the new husband would be more receptive than he’d been.
He got up and gathered his things. He’d been sedentary for far too long. The breeze was brisk enough to blow the cobwebs of self-pity out of his brain. He needed some exercise.
And maybe he’d see the dog trainer lady again.
Young laughing voices wafted over the breeze from the beach, where the two boys were playing with an elaborate set of multicolored hoops.
The Frisbee landed near his feet again.
“Sorry, mister,” said the boy in the red shorts. “The wind caught it.”
Aiden tossed it to him again and he loped off, all knees and elbows.
Garret would have been six this summer.
It was all so long ago. Why couldn’t he let it go? Why was he so . . . stuck? What did he have to do to let go?
He walked down closer to the water, and looked toward the rocky outcroppings, where shimmering seawater collected at high tide and was warmed by the sun.
He thought of when he’d been bumped by Haylee’s big dogs, it had felt so good to have something so alive, so vibrantly physical, next to him. Since Michelle, Aiden didn’t get touched often, save his monthly haircuts or the occasional slap on the back from Duane at the information desk. Yes, he had contact with patients, but the context was different. He was the provider, they were the recipients. Any contact was prescriptive and definitely not mutual.
That big, wet dog had touched him and it had felt good.
He walked back to his beach chair and covered his tablet with the magazines, to protect it from the sun, then strode toward the boy in the red suit, who was watching carefully.
“Show me what you’ve got, kiddo,” said Aiden.
The boy gave a whoop.
Chapter Nine
“The ranch has a clean rustic feel and everyone is so friendly. My highlight was eating meals on the deck overlooking the meadow, where a whitetail doe and fawn passed by every evening and morning. Loved it!”
—NatureLover645
“We’re going to give the Fiori family the full, Wfabulous Sanctuary Ranch experience,” Olivia told the team. “They’re going to love it. And then they’ll tell all their friends. It’ll be great for business.”
Jamie snorted. “Right.”
Abby and Quinn, the sisters Olivia had hired to help with the harvest, said nothing but their expressions indicated agreement.
Gideon laid a hand lightly on Jamie’s arm but said nothing, his face still and calm, reserving judgment.
Jamie blushed wildly. It was painful to watch.
“Okay, so they’re not our usual clientele,” she continued. “All the more reason to make sure they enjoy themselves.”
Haylee exhaled, then nodded. “It’ll be a challenge but we can do it.”
Olivia smiled her gratitude for the support.
A little investigation on Huck’s part confirmed her guess about the name changes. Olivia didn’t always take advantage of the eccentric ranch hand’s lesser known skills, but when background checks revealed inconsistencies, she chose peace of mind over her guests’ privacy. Anyone who didn’t like it didn’t have to stay.
The platinum-haired blue-eyed Angel Fiori had actually been born dishwater blonde Angela Marie Funk and she’d seen forty-nine birthdays come and go, not thirty-eight.
Angie was Daemon Fiori’s third wife and the longest to stick it out. He’d been Daniel Phillip at birth but when he and Angie met, they’d bonded over their mutual desire for personal renovation. Angie had no interest in being yet another Mrs. Daniel Phillip, and apparently he was superstitious enough to agree that their wedding was the perfect opportunity to change both their names. She was also the only wife to give him offspring. That, plus a good prenuptial agreement, seemed a recipe for eternal love. Danny and Angie might have remade themselves in their own images, but their children, unfortunately, had been bred and borne exactly as one might expect of the offspring of such creative parents.
“Xerxes and Athena?” Daphne looked down at the sheet of paper in her hands, then up at Olivia with amazement. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. The parents have stated that their primary goal and objective is family unity.”
Everyone who came to stay at the ranch gave a list of objectives before their arrival, which helped the staff create the itinerary best suited to meet those goals.
“They originally applied with their nanny,” Olivia continued. “Two nannies, actually. But I explained that if they wanted to become closer as a family, they needed to spend time as a family. No intermediaries.”
“God Almighty.” Daphne shook her head.
“I know,” said Olivia. “They also want to gain improved physical fitness, learn some practical skills in nutrition and meal planning. Oh, and knots.”
“Knots?” Jamie’s lip curled. “They know this is a dude ranch and not a rowing club,
right?”
“I’ll teach them knots,” Gideon said quietly.
Jamie slumped back in her seat and crossed her arms.
The meeting concluded, Olivia hustled out to the training ring, where Tyler was waiting for her. She had a new buckskin, Razor, that was giving her some attitude, not unlike the attitude Tyler himself had been giving her occasionally, now that he’d gotten comfortable at the ranch.
She quickly tacked up the horse, then tossed Tyler a helmet and helped him up. Putting the kid on this horse would teach him some valuable lessons. Nothing like bouncing around on a hard saddle to get a young man thinking about how best to save his gonads.
Razor was not all that keen on having a passenger and made no secret of it. To give Tyler credit, he held out longer than Olivia expected.
“Enough,” yelled Tyler, grabbing the horn with both hands. Razor laid his ears back at the sound and Olivia gave him a quick twitch with the long lead.
“Don’t yell, Tyler,” she said in a conversational tone, “or he’ll buck you off.”
Olivia had the horse moving at a nice, easy trot. He wasn’t going to buck and the kid wasn’t going to fall off, but even if he did, there was a good eight inches of fresh sawdust beneath the horse’s hooves. Tyler’d be fine.
* * *
Sunset Bay Sanctuary, read the sign hanging above the gates at the entrance to the ranch. Aiden wondered under what circumstances the gates might be closed. Maybe they let the horses loose to wander the yard.
He slowed his car and opened the windows to take in the scenery and appreciate the architecture and landscaping. Someone had done this right.
On the left, set back against a backdrop of natural forest, sat a line of cabins, each with a tiny porch on the front. They were numbered one to eight and each door was painted a different color. Cute.
To the right was a large corral with a handful of horses who lifted their heads as he went by. Several large reddish-brown ones, a white one with gray spots, a couple of darker ones. They watched, motionless save their swishing tails.
As he went over the final rise, the main house came into view. A sprawling rancher with, he guessed, a vista to the west where they could watch the sun disappear into the Pacific.
Raw timbers of natural cedar, with windows from floor to ceiling and a wrap-around deck with terra-cotta pots filled with geraniums.
Who all lived here?
“Hello!” came a voice to his right. “Can I help you?”
Aiden slowed the car and leaned out the passenger-side window. He saw a friendly-looking, middle-aged man with a weather-worn face and smile-lines. He was dressed in faded jeans, cowboy boots, and a blue-and-red plaid shirt rolled up at the elbows. But instead of the expected Stetson, the man had a pale yellow knitted beanie on the top of his head. Tucked behind his ear, just below the rim of the beanie, was a cigarette and a dandelion.
The man set his hand on the door and peered in.
“I hope so,” said Aiden. “I’m Aiden McCall. Mac.”
“Dr. Mac,” said the man, shoving his hand through the window. “You’re a local hero already. Glad to meet you. I’m Huck Templeton, one of the wranglers here at Sanctuary Ranch.”
“Horse wrangler?” said Aiden, idiotically.
Huck smiled. “Horses. Humans. Hamburgers. Unruly barbed wire. Paparazzi. You’re not paparazzi, are you?”
“No, but I am human, so I guess I’m talking to the right man. I’m looking for Olivia Hansen. Or Haylee Hansen? I’ve got her card.”
Huck took the cigarette out from behind his ear and ran it under his nose, inhaling deeply. He had the aw-shucks, ma’am demeanor and open, smiling face of an actor in an old-fashioned spaghetti western, but Aiden had an uncomfortable suspicion that he wouldn’t think twice about punching out a man from here to kingdom come if circumstances warranted.
Apparently, circumstances didn’t warrant such a measure at this time because Huck sighed and tucked the cigarette back with the dandelion.
“Miserable habit, smoking,” he said. “Don’t ever start. You can park this pretty little import of yours next to the hedge—crows aren’t likely to bomb you there—and then I’ll show you the kennels. If Haylee’s there, she’ll talk to you, even if it’s just to make an appointment.”
Aiden parked where instructed and stepped out of his car, suddenly aware of how impractical the two-door vehicle was here in the country, where dusty pick-up trucks held bales of hay, burlap sacks bulging with seed or feed, equipment, or even livestock.
His trunk barely held a set of golf clubs.
“Something smells good,” he commented.
“That’s the garden,” said Huck, pointing over his shoulder at a pair of women in floppy hats and gum boots. “See those two? I think they plant according to the cycles of the moon, maybe they do dances and whatnot, I don’t know. But all that purple stuff blooming at the perimeter? Lavender. Smells like heaven, when the wind is just right. Lilacs, though, they’re done already. Lots of roses of every color. You think it smells nice now, you should be around at dawn or twilight.”
Huck cleared his throat. “Listen to me, going on about flowers. The potatoes and tomatoes they grow will make you weep, too. Ah, here we are.”
Around a small stand of trees and Aiden found himself standing in front of another building, older and plainer than the big house, but obviously a dwelling as well.
A large yard behind it was enclosed in six-foot-high chain link, with padlocked double gates, to prevent any accidental escapes.
“That’s where she does her training,” said Huck. “Back there are the indoor kennels, for when she does boarding. But Haylee doesn’t take a lot of boarders and between you and me, when she does, they almost always stay with her. Sleep at the foot of the bed, too, I bet. She’s such a softie.”
“She is, is she?” murmured Aiden. “Good to know.”
* * *
Olivia looked up as a tall figure approached the ring.
“Dr. Mac,” she said, slowing the horse.
“Good afternoon. And you’re Olivia Hansen.”
“That’s right. You must be here to see Sage and the baby.”
“I’m here to do a home placement assessment as a Child Protective Services proxy, yes.”
Olivia burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it.
“Did you memorize that?”
“Maybe. Yeah.” He flushed and nodded toward Huck, who was walking toward the garden. “What’s with the yellow cap? I thought wranglers wore Stetsons.”
“He knits,” said Olivia. “It’s the only pattern he knows. He’s got a ton of them. I think they’re cute.”
“Do you have time to walk me through the process? You undoubtedly know more about it than I do.”
“Undoubtedly.”
She helped Tyler dismount, and gave him the lead rope. “Think you can handle getting him untacked and groomed, Tyler?”
Tyler glowered. “I’ve done it a million times already, Honch.”
The buckskin tossed his head just then, clipping the kid on the corner of his jaw.
“Ow, that hurt,” muttered Tyler. “Goddamn maniac.”
“Language,” said Olivia. “Hold him tight. He’ll take any advantage he can. You’re the boss here, Tyler. He’s looking to you for leadership.”
“Right.”
She watched Tyler walk away. He was limping on his left foot. His boots were new. She’d have to check him for blisters.
“Impressive,” said Dr. Mac.
“Horse or kid?”
“You,” he said with a laugh, “managing the horse and the kid. Must be a challenging job.”
“Labor of love,” she said. “Labor, mostly. But you’d understand that, in your line of work. Some days are good, others are just the ones you get through, on the way to the good ones.”
“You know,” he said, “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard life summed up quite that succinctly.”
“I’ll give you the tour. You can
decide for yourself if this is a healthy environment. Though I’ll tell you right now, I’ve only agreed to provide temporary care. Sage lied to me about a lot of things and we demand honesty here. However, there are extenuating circumstances and I’m inclined to have her back on this. If you find anything amiss in your evaluation, I trust you’ll inform me first.”
Aiden held out a sheet of paper. “They gave me a checklist.”
“Excellent,” said Olivia. “Overworked officials don’t get out here a lot. I think they’re so grateful that I take the more challenging kids, they don’t want to do anything to upset that apple cart.”
“They should be grateful,” said the doctor. “Not everyone can work with troubled teens.”
“We’re called Sanctuary Ranch for a reason, Dr. Mac,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean we don’t have rules. You hear me, Tyler?”
He was lurking in the breezeway, probably hoping she’d let him go find supper.
“Hell-Raiser bit me on the arm. I might need stitches.”
“His name’s Razor. Are you bleeding?”
A long pause. “Not really.”
“Did you feed him?”
Another pause. “Yeah.”
“Grain and hay?”
A huge, heavy sigh. Then without answering, he turned and slouched back to the stalls.
“You deserved that bite, Tyler. Come on, Dr. McCall,” she said to Aiden. “I’ll show you around.”
“When we’re done,” he added, “I was hoping to talk to Haylee about a dog. If she’s around.”
Olivia turned to him, her eyebrows raised. “I’m sure we can make that happen,” she said with a smile.
* * *
A huge, beefy bark from the far end of the fenced-in yard made Aiden’s heart leap into his throat. An enormous beast was running toward them, his jowls flapping in the wind, revealing sharp white teeth and a blood-red tongue.
“Whoa!” said Aiden, taking a step back, despite the fact that there was industrial-strength fencing between them.
“That,” said Olivia, “is Haylee’s latest rescue. She assures us he’s harmless.”
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