by Laura Moore
Caleb was unrepentant. “What can I say I’m a growing boy.”
“The only thing I can think of that’s growing is your head. That ego of yours is huge. Monstrous.”
His grin was wicked. “Cassie, there’s a whole lot more that’s growing when you’re around. Want me to show you?”
Well, she’d walked straight into that one, she thought ruefully. Men and their big-things-growing jokes. Tom and Alex used to laugh like hyenas, trying to outdo each other’s outrageous one-liners. Her blond head shaking in exasperation, Cassie turned her back on Caleb as she led him once more to the kitchen, the sound of his pleased chuckle floating in the air behind her.
17
T he days and weeks flew by, stunning Cassie one bright morning with the discovery that the trees, tipped with tightly closed brown nubs at her arrival, suddenly sported perfect, miniature, bright green leaves. Vivid yellow forsythia decorated the landscape, followed shortly by purple and white lilacs, their perfume scenting the air. Her first horse show with Orion was only eight days away.
Who would have guessed that life at Five Oaks could move as swiftly as a New York City minute?
But somehow between Jamie and Sophie’s school, Cassie’s work at Five Oaks, along with the extra time allotted to things such as caring for Hot Lips’s tendon, and squeezing in time for the twins’ riding lessons, the days seemed filled to bursting. And that was without factoring in the added excitement that went along with having Finnegan in their lives. It was stunning how one badly injured, seventy-five-pound boxer could become the center of a family’s life.
Three weeks had passed since Caleb had carried Finnegan into the kitchen and laid him gently down on the circular dog bed Mr. O’Mally had provided. Gone was the energetic, frisky dog she’d patted and stroked in Caleb’s reception area. What she saw now was literally a shadow of the former dog. Finnegan looked like he’d lost about ten pounds. His body was a bag of bones without the muscles that before had rippled under his shiny coat. Even his coat was different. In order to reinflate his lungs, Caleb had had to shave patches of fur along his rib cage as well as his hind leg where his hip was fractured. Poor Finnegan looked like the helpless victim of an electric clipper run amuck. The crowning touch was the unsightly white adhesive bandage stuck between his shoulder blades. Cassie had dreaded to ask what that was for.
The poor dog had looked so pathetic and sorry for himself that Cassie’d wanted to cry. Somehow although she knew how seriously he’d been injured, she hadn’t visualized just how badly damaged he would look. Fortunately the children hadn’t met Finnegan before. Otherwise, it would have been awfully hard to convince them that the dog would indeed recover and be anything like his former self again. Cassie had been careful to hide her own reaction to Finnegan, especially when Mr. O’Mally had entered the kitchen right on Caleb’s heels. If Finnegan’s sorry state disturbed her, she could just imagine what his owner was feeling. Caleb had taken charge immediately. “Here we go, Finnegan,” he began in an easy soothing tone. “This is where you’ll be staying for a while.” His leg muscles bunched together under the faded blue of his Levi’s as he slowly lowered the dog onto the padded bed.
Swiveling his dark head in the direction of Mr. O’Mally, he addressed the older man. “Mr. O’Mally, can you come here and just hold his collar while I bring Sophie and Jamie to meet him? I want to be sure he understands they won’t hurt him.”
Cassie and Thompson had stood quietly by the kitchen table as Caleb had turned to the kids. He motioned with his arm as he remained in a crouching position, next to the injured dog. “Jamie, why don’t you come first. That’s right, nice and slowly. If you run around Finnegan right now, he’s going to get scared. Wouldn’t want that, right? Okay, now let him sniff your hand. See that big, white bandage on the top of his shoulders . . . yeah, that one. That’s called a pain patch. There’s medicine in it so he won’t feel too bad, but it also makes him sleepy. That’s why he’s lying here so quietly. He’ll be like this for a few more days. Then we’ll take it off.”
“What if he’s still hurting?” Jamie asked, his eyes wide.
“Oh, I’ve got some other medicine in case he needs it, don’t you worry.”
Cassie remembered the collective sigh of relief that began to filled the kitchen when Finnegan’s pink tongue came out to lick her son’s small hand. Even in his pained and drugged state, the dog’s first instinct had been to please.
“Can I pat him?” Jamie’s voice was hushed. Caleb was silent, letting Mr. O’Mally decide.
“I’m sure he’d like that. Why don’t you rub him behind his ear. That’s his favorite spot.”
Jamie’s small hand gently rubbed the fold behind Finnegan’s ear and the dog’s eyes began to close. Jamie lifted his own eyes to Caleb’s and Caleb gave him a smile, his head nodding in wordless approval. “Let’s have your sister meet him now.”
Sophie, squatting down on her short legs next to her brother, followed the same routine as her brother, but chose instead to stroke the silky fur on top of Finnegan’s head. Both children sat quietly, patting the dog until Caleb was satisfied that Finnegan didn’t feel threatened by their presence.
“Let’s let Finnegan rest now. He’s tired from all this excitement. Why don’t you two come out to the car and help me carry the rest of his stuff into the kitchen?”
When Caleb and the twins had left the kitchen, Mr. O’Mally looked up at Cassie and Thompson from his spot by Finnegan’s head. Slowly he rose to his feet. He inclined his silver head in their direction.
“I want to thank you ladies for helping Finnegan and me. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” His southern accent was softened further by the quiet sincerity of his tone.
“We’re glad to help, Mr. O’Mally ” Cassie reassured him. “We’ll take good care of him, but I do hope you’ll come by whenever and as often as you like. I know how attached you are to him.”
Mr. O’Mally gave them both a warm smile. Thompson had responded, a hint of breathlessness threading her voice, by inviting him to stay for lunch.
From that weekend on, Finnegan’s recuperation became the main preoccupation of their home life. Sophie and Jamie took on the role of surrogate mother and father to the dog, tending to him with a thoroughness that Cassie found exceptional.
Now with three weeks passed, Finnegan’s condition was vastly improved: he was walking with only a slight limp, willing to place more and more weight on the side of his injured hip with each passing day. A week earlier Caleb had removed Finnegan’s stitches. He was enormously pleased with the dog’s progress. The twins beamed with pride each time Caleb praised them for the fine job they were doing, tending to Finnegan.
What Cassie thought was the best sign, however, was Finnegan’s renewed good cheer. Although he wasn’t doing anything more taxing than getting up from his dog bed to drink from his water dish, or walking outside to relieve himself, he seemed thrilled to do so, wagging his bottom energetically whenever one of the twins entered the kitchen to see him. And Jamie and Sophie were acting like utter angels—at least, when they were in the vicinity of the kitchen!
An unforeseen benefit of Finnegan’s presence, was the virtual guarantee that Cassie and Thompson would enjoy the company of at least one man, if not two, at dinner each night.
Caleb had taken to dropping in after work to check on Finnegan’s progress and to take him out after the dog’s supper, wanting to shoulder some of the burden of caring for the injured dog as much as possible. More often than not, he wound up joining them for dinner, entertaining the kids with stories of his animal patients, discussing Hot Lips’s progress, or how Cassie’s training with Orion and the other horses was coming.
Certain evenings, Mr. O’Mally would stay for dinner too. Precisely when in the afternoon he arrived at the house, Cassie hadn’t a clue, and was too discreet to ask. More often than not, though, he was in the kitchen with Thompson and Finnegan when she came home from work. One thing, however, was be
coming crystal clear to Cassie: Mr. O’Mally’s devotion to his dog was just part of the reason for his prolonged visits to their house. The other reason could be deduced from the openly admiring glances that passed between him and Thompson.
Go figure, Cassie had thought to herself. If anyone’d asked her, Cassie would have declared Thompson constitutionally incapable of a girlish blush. But to her everlasting amazement she’d seen the grey-haired matron turn a pleasing shade of pink after a particularly warm compliment given by Mr. O’Mally over dinner one night. Caleb had caught it, too. And when his glance immediately sought Cassie’s across the dinner table, Caleb’s eyes were filled with an unholy glee.
Later that same evening, after Mr. O’Mally had left, and Thompson was upstairs kissing the children goodnight, Cassie returned to the kitchen to finish up the remaining dishes. The sound of the water and the clanking of the steel pans drowned the noise of Caleb’s approach until he stood inches away his warm, male scent tantalizing. She pretended to ignore him, to ignore the pull of attraction she felt. From the corner of her eye, she saw him angle his head to whisper in her ear.
“Guess it’s not just a young man’s heart that turns to thoughts of love.” As his warm breath drifted over her cheek he let out a soft laugh. “Bessie and Mr. O’Mally. Who’d have thought it?”
“Thompson’s an extremely attractive woman,” Cassie replied loyally. The space separating their bodies seemed charged, atoms of desire zinging back and forth.
“You betcha. Matter of fact, I don’t see how you can bear to be in the same room as her. Jealousy must eat you up. . . . Oof!” he grunted as Cassie jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “No, really. I think Bessie’s a real looker. If I were a couple decades older I’d be tempted to give O’Mally a run for his money. I’d eat my way into dotage.”
“You don’t have to eat your way, you’re already there.” She shook her head as if in despair over such idiocy.
Caleb grinned as Cassie’s hair swished back and forth across his mouth. He breathed the light, flowery scent of her shampoo, and treated his lips to the soft, smooth flesh as he nuzzled his way down the slender column of her throat. “Must be why I’m such a fool for you,” he breathed.
She swallowed convulsively against the press of his lips, his words causing her heart to flip-flop. “Caleb,” she began, then cleared her throat, trying for a less breathless voice. More firmly, “Thompson’ll be back any second.”
Damn. He stepped back, increasing the space between them so the air could cool his fevered body. Seconds passed as he tried to gather his wits and remember what the hell they’d been talking about. Oh, yeah. Reluctantly, he returned to the topic of Thompson’s object of affection.
“So . . . you think I should have a talk with O’Mally keep him on the straight and narrow?”
Cassie pressed her lips tightly together, fighting a smile at the idea Caleb and the perfectly respectable Mr. O’Mally sitting down for a heart-to-heart talk.
“I hardly think that will be necessary. Thompson’s more than capable of dealing with anything that comes to hand.”
“It might not be her hand Mr. O’Mally’s after Slim.” Caleb trailed his own hand along her forearm until it reached Cassie’s, resting on the edge of the sink, damp and pink with soap bubbles still clinging.
“’Course, hands are a great place to start. I love your hands on me, Slim . . . but I burn when your mouth touches me. These days, all I can think of is what it’d be like if I could have all of you. Touching me.” He paused letting the heady words sink, to be absorbed like a rich, exotic perfume. “If Mr. O’Mally is feeling even a tenth of what I feel when I’m around you, we’ve got the makings of a real volatile situation.”
Unnerved at how effortlessly Caleb could arouse her with just the stroke of a finger and a dash of his erotically charged words, Cassie tried to steer the conversation to safer ground, replying dampeningly. “Yes, well, poor Mr. O’Mally would probably have a heart attack if you started one of your sex spiels. You could give Mephistopheles himself ideas when you’re on a roll.”
“You think so?” Caleb’s voice sounded far too pleased.
“That wasn’t a compliment, so don’t look so happy.” Cassie thrust down the lever of the faucet, turning off the rush of hot water. “Excuse me,” she said, giving an unladylike shove against his too near form.
“You know Slim, that’s what I like best about you,” he said, stepping back just enough to allow her to brush past him as she reached for the dishtowel. “Your incredible work ethic. Never an idle moment. My angel-eyed Puritan.”
“Lutheran, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Old German stock. We were Müller first. Changed to Miller sometime in the nineteenth century. But you’re probably right. Lutherans didn’t go in for frivolity too much, either. Which explains why your shameless efforts at seduction are completely wasted on me.”
“That so?” Caleb grinned widely.
“You betcha.” Her tone mimicked his as she shoved a dishtowel at him. “And because I can’t stand sluggards, you can do the drying.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, the dishwasher humming quietly in the background, Caleb drying and Cassie storing the pots and pans back in the cabinets. When the last pot was back in its proper place, Caleb spoke.
“By the way I called my friend at U. Penn, Tod Harper again this afternoon. Told him Hot Lips would probably be ready to head up to the facilities at U. Penn in a week or so. Thought you might want to come along, check it out. I was planning on driving there and then coming back the next day. How about it?”
Cassie’s mind raced. Oh, God. Alone with Caleb? Without the protective buffer of Thompson and the twins constantly running interference? Was she brave enough? Was she ready to take the plunge? “Well, I’ll have to see,” she hedged, already formulating plausible excuses. “Orion’s first show’s coming up next week. I’ll be pretty busy, ironing out all the glitches, getting ready for the following weekend’s show. Then there’s the kids. Everything’s still so new . . .”
“I see.” He began to laugh.
“What?” She rolled her eyes as his laughter continued. “What are you laughing at? Will you stop? You look like a hyena.”
“Come on, admit it. You’re scared I’m going to jump your bones.”
“God that’s funny! What a sense of humor.”
“If that’s not what’s worrying you, then what’s the problem? We can leave midday, so you’ll have time to ride Orion in the morning. The following day can be his day off. I’m sure Thompson can handle the twins for one night. She is experienced, after all. I forget, how many grandchildren did she say she has?”
No way was she going to be a pushover. So what if using Thompson was a pathetically flimsy excuse? “I still have to talk it over with her ” she repeated stubbornly. “It’s only fair. I’ll let you know after the horse show.” That’s what I should be concentrating on now anyway she reminded herself sternly.
“Sure thing, Slim.”
“Raff and Tony will be riding in the van. I haven’t decided whether or not to stick Tony in the back with Orion to keep an eye on him. It’s only an hour-and-a-half drive to the show. I don’t know if it’s worth the risk of being pulled over by a state trooper. What do you think?”
“Either way sounds fine. You know how he trailers better than I do.”
It was two days before Cassie’s first show with Orion. Hank had called her into his office to iron out the final details. Cassie had found him and Caleb checking the entry form together. Cassie’d already memorized the events she was entered in. Not too big a deal, considering they were only bringing Orion to this first show. Later on, they’d be taking the gelding, Limelight, putting him in some jumper classes as well as the four-year-olds Cassie was riding. That’s when things would get a little dicier—Cassie hopping from one mount to the next, then trotting over to a different competition
ring for the younger horses. She couldn’t wait. It was just too bad that Hot Lips might have to sit out the summer season. She’d been looking forward to trying her out at a couple of shows. But if her tendon wasn’t a hundred percent, there was no way she was going to risk reinjuring her mare.
She sat back in the chair opposite Hank’s desk and stretched her legs in front of her, surreptitiously tapping her field boots against each other, trying to dislodge the caked-on mud that covered them. It had poured buckets the past few days and the ground around the barns was boglike. Luckily, the sky had cleared this morning. If it stayed dry the footing at the show wouldn’t be too treacherous. Cassie was keeping her fingers crossed. She wanted her first outing with Orion to go as smoothly as possible. Even though she felt confident she and Hank had prepped Orion for these first shows, the stallion was still young and relatively inexperienced. Cassie didn’t want to have to contend with lousy footing on top of everything else.
A large clump of dried mud fell onto the brown-speckled floor. Wow that was a big one, she thought, somewhat impressed that she’d managed to dislodge it intact. Cassie looked up to find Caleb watching her. She blushed, feeling like a naughty schoolboy caught in the midst of a prank.
“Here, Slim. Try this.” He handed her the wastepaper basket standing next to Hank’s desk. Wordlessly she took the black metal canister from him and bent down to retrieve the clump of dirt. It landed with a hollow thud.
Curious about the source of the sound, Hank glanced up. Her expression bland, Cassie surreptitiously tucked her feet underneath the wooden chair.
“Don’t bother about picking me up, Hank, I’ll take my Jeep. Thompson and the kids may or may not come, depending on the weather.”
“Mind if I hitch a ride?”
Cassie glanced at Caleb, surprised. “You’re coming, too?”
“I’m not about to miss Orion’s first show. Mark’s covering for me on the weekends during the season. I told him he could take off two weeks extra in the winter.”