by Julie Benson
He filled the hay bins in the stalls, then gave each horse some grain and fresh water. Next he went in search of a saddle, surprised to find his old one in the tack room. He smiled, remembering how he’d saved for a year to buy it. He ran his hand over the suede seat and the basket-weave tooling, then lifted the saddle and carried it into the stall of a calm chestnut. His body went into autopilot, his hands efficiently accomplishing the task of saddling the horse.
He rubbed the horse’s neck. “Go easy on me. It’s been a while since I’ve done any riding.” Then hauled himself onto the animal. The old leather creaked under his weight. His heels tapped the horse’s flanks, and the animal responded. So far so good. He was in the saddle, not on his ass in the hay.
As he made his way across the ranch toward the cow pasture, Reed settled into a rhythm with the horse. The stiffness he’d woken up with from tossing and turning most of the night eased with his movements. Colt had told him to keep a close eye on the cows. For a small herd, Colt said, they caused a surprising amount of trouble. Most of which revolved around finding holes in the fencing and traveling to Sam Logan’s land.
The soft summer breeze teased his skin. The house disappeared from view, and he relaxed. Urging the horse into a gallop, he felt the tension drain from his body. He’d forgotten how freeing it felt to be on top of a magnificent animal riding hell-for-leather to nowhere in particular. Just running.
Recalling how often he and Avery had ventured into the national park to get away and just be together, he smiled. They’d ride and then stop near a mountain stream to talk and make out. There he’d been happy. At least until he returned home.
The herd came into view, thankfully still where they belonged. After a quick check of the fences Reed returned to the house, showered and then headed for Colt’s office, where he pulled up an email from his lawyer.
He had a problem. According to his attorney, there was some federal act that let communities set age restrictions as long as they met certain criteria, like 80 percent of the houses having someone over fifty-five in residence. As long as they maintained that, the neighborhood could keep kids from living there.
After firing back instructions for his lawyer to check into the community’s compliance, Reed glanced at his watch. Seven in the morning, and he hadn’t heard Jess stirring. If she didn’t get moving soon, they’d never make it out the door on time, and he’d start his day behind.
When he stepped into the hallway that led to the bedrooms, an alarm clock’s irritating beep greeted him. How could she sleep through that?
He knocked on her door. Nothing. He knocked harder. “Jess? Are you awake?”
High-pitched yips masquerading as barking came from behind the door, but nothing from his niece. Now what? He sure as hell wasn’t going in her room. Then, between the alarm beeps, he heard snoring. He pounded on the door. “Jessica! Shut off your blasted alarm, and get your butt out of bed!”
More yipping, followed by “All right!”
He glanced at his watch. “I’ll expect you downstairs for breakfast in twenty minutes. That will give you ten minutes to eat and brush your teeth, leaving five minutes to gather what you need for school before we head out.”
He heard her shuffling around the room before the door flew open and he faced a scowling Jess dressed in boxer shorts and an oversize T-shirt. “You worked out how much time I need to brush my teeth and gather my stuff?”
“What’s wrong with a schedule?”
“Nothing if you’re the TV Guide Channel.” She brushed her bangs out of her face. “Don’t get your shorts in a wad. I’ve got plenty of time. They won’t count me late on the first day.”
He hadn’t given a thought to the school counting her tardy. “We’ve got to leave by seven forty-five. I have an eight-thirty conference call.” Also, he refused to set up bad habits. Managing his staff had taught him it was easier to create good patterns than to break poor ones.
“That’s not my problem. I’ll be down when I’m good and ready.” She slammed the door in his face.
At seven-fifty he called his assistant to push back his conference call. He and Jess left at seven fifty-five.
When he returned to the house at eight-thirty, he opened the front door, stepped inside and slipped, nearly ending up on his backside.
Glancing down, he discovered puddles—and they weren’t pee—dotting the wooden floor. As he stared at the trail heading upstairs toward the bedrooms, he wondered if he’d shut his door.
“Thor, you better not have gone in my room, or you’ll be in trouble.” I’m threatening a dog. Three days with Jess and I’m going crazy.
He followed the trail right to his open bedroom door. Peering in, he discovered the damned dog sleeping on his pillow, away from the mess he’d created on the rest of the bed. “You’re out to get me, aren’t you?”
Not wanting to put off his conference call a second time, he made his way through the minefield to Colt’s office, shut the door behind him and decided to deal with it all later. He spent the next hour reassuring clients that his being in Colorado wouldn’t affect their business, while pretending his life hadn’t become an exercise in surviving teenage angst and cleaning up after a vindictive Chihuahua.
After ending his call, he found rubber gloves, paper towels and a bucket to tackle Thor’s messes. He’d muck out an entire barn before he’d pull this duty again. Any repeat incidents and he was calling in a hazmat team.
Next he retrieved Avery’s business card from his wallet and punched in her number. As he waited for her to answer, he stormed into Jess’s room.
Didn’t every girl with a Chihuahua have a carrier-purse thing? Clothes covered the floor, making it look like a patchwork quilt made by a color-blind quilter. He scanned the disaster zone. If she had something to put the dog in, he’d spend the better part of the day finding it.
No way was he letting the little monster ride in Colt’s truck unconfined. Some things were sacred, and a man’s truck was in the top two. He headed for the kitchen to find a substitute carrier as Avery’s voice answering the phone floated over him.
“I need your help.”
Chapter Three
“Jess’s dog has the runs.” Reed walked into the kitchen. He glanced around the room. What could he use? “Can I bring him in?”
He flung open cabinet doors, searching. The plastic containers he found were too small, and Thor could get out without a lid. Then he spotted cloth grocery sacks hanging on the pantry door. He smiled and snatched one up.
“Thor’s sick? Bring him in. On Thursdays we don’t open until noon, but I’m going in early to do paperwork. I’ll meet you at the shelter in twenty minutes.”
Sack in hand, he thanked Avery, said he was on his way and returned to his bedroom. Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d keep the dog for a couple of days.
When Reed walked into the room, Thor eyed him suspiciously. Reed inched closer to the bed, trying to appear casual. The dog sat up and growled. Reed strolled to the dresser, opened a drawer and dug around inside.
I’m trying to carry off a sneak attack on a dog. I’m not going crazy. I’m there.
He stalked toward the dog, and Thor bolted under the bed.
Damn. No way was he getting on the floor to catch the mutt. Instead he returned to the kitchen. When he looked inside the fridge he found deli ham. He stormed back to the bedroom, tore off a chunk and dropped the treat on the floor beside the bed. Seconds later, a little brown head appeared and gobbled up the meat. Reed tossed down another piece, this one farther away. Two tries later, he snatched up the dog, dumped him in the cloth bag and looped the handles through each other so Thor couldn’t hop out, leaving enough of an opening for air to flow.
As he left the house, he realized fate seemed determined to throw him and Avery together. What were the powers that be trying to t
ell him? He shook his head. He didn’t care. All he wanted to know was how to get them to leave him alone.
* * *
AVERY STOPPED AT THE FRONT DESK to locate Thor’s file, and giggled thinking of Reed dealing with a Chihuahua with the runs. When she opened the door for him five minutes later, irritation darkened his handsome features.
“Where’s Thor?” Then she noticed the black cloth grocery bag dangling from his large hands. Hands that knew her body well. No. She couldn’t think about that. Focusing on the sack, she saw it move. She bit her lip, trying to hold in her laughter, but failed. “You put him in a grocery sack?”
“Woman, I’ve been pushed about as far as a man can be. You’re taking your life in your hands, laughing.” The minute he started speaking the dog growled. Reed glared at the bag. “And you better be nice to me after the bomb you dropped on my bed.”
“He didn’t.”
“He sure as hell did, and all over the wooden floors.”
The absolute horror on his face made her laugh harder. “I’m sorry. Really I am.” She giggled one last time thinking of his reaction when he’d found his bed. It was amazing the dog was alive.
“It’s funny to you because it wasn’t your bed.”
“Bring him in.” She stepped aside for him to enter, and Reed’s musky cologne tickled her senses. As he handed her the sack, she remembered how his scent clung to her clothes after they’d been necking, which led to images of the two of them together and a sudden spike in her heart rate.
Stop it. Trips down nostalgia lane led nowhere but back. She was all about moving forward with her life, and hoped she’d find someone who wanted the same things she did—a loving marriage and raising their children in the same town where she’d grown up. Something that Reed never would do.
“After I examine Thor, I’ll let you know what’s going on.” For a minute she stood there, the silence between them shouting volumes.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “This is awkward, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you expect me to say. I wasn’t the one who ended things between us.”
She’d told herself she’d gotten over him. But until she’d seen Reed in the barn the other day, she hadn’t realized how much anger she still carried. They’d made love the first and only time the July after graduation. She’d loved him so much, wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, and then the relationship was over.
“We’d talked about our future so much, and never once did you mention the fact that you didn’t want children. How could you have left out that important detail?” Giving voice to her anger and throwing the words in his face felt good. Closure. She finally had what she’d never known she craved.
“I don’t know what to say other than I was young. When I got to college, I started thinking about what us having a future meant in practical terms, and it hit me.”
“You gave me a promise ring, and then you never came back.”
“I couldn’t. Once I got away, I felt free. I didn’t want to lose that, but you’re right. I should’ve called you.”
But it had been worse than that. She’d left messages begging for him to talk to her. Ones that he’d never returned.
Let it go.
“I was an ass, and I’m sorry I hurt you.” He stepped toward her, then froze, as if he wasn’t sure of what to do next. “Can we start over with a clean slate? Be friends?”
Friends? The word shouldn’t have stung her pride, but it did.
Avery nodded. That would make things easier when they ran into each other, and in a town of less than ten thousand people, their paths would cross. “I’ll call you when I know what’s going on with Thor.”
Dismissing Reed, Avery reached into the sack, lifted Thor out and snuggled with him for a minute. She waited for the sound of the door opening and closing as Reed left, but after a moment she glanced over her shoulder, finding him still standing there. “Is there something else you need?”
A familiar look flashed in his cobalt eyes as his gaze locked with hers. Her heart fluttered. Was he thinking the same thing she was? How much they’d once thought they needed each other?
“Jess will be worried when I tell her about Thor. Can I bring her by after school?”
“Absolutely. Chances are it’s nothing serious, and he’ll probably be ready to go home by then.”
Reed nodded and then turned and walked out of the exam room. When she’d said they could start over, she’d thought doing so would make things easier. Then she’d asked him if he needed anything else, and now she wasn’t so sure. The look she’d glimpsed in his eyes moments earlier was the same one she’d seen years ago, right before he kissed her.
* * *
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, as Reed sat in the pickup lane at Jess’s school, his thoughts returned to Avery. He was thankful that they’d cleared the air. In a town the size of Estes Park, they’d run into each other. Now maybe things wouldn’t be as awkward.
Who was he kidding? Things would still be awkward. Everything he’d loved about Avery—her giving spirit, her quiet strength, her down-to-earth nature—was still there, but there was something more now. Something more refined. Her appeal had heightened over the years. She was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, and yet she seemed unaware of the fact.
The truck’s passenger door opened, a red backpack flew behind the seat. Jess slid in, the leather seat squeaking with her movements. He tossed out the obligatory “How was your day?” and she responded with the typical teenage response of “Fine.”
“I took Thor to the vet. He wasn’t feeling well. I came home to messes all over the house.”
Her eyes widened, and her lip quivered. “What’s wrong? Is he okay? What did Dr. McAlister say? Is he home?”
The more questions Jess asked, the higher her voice rose. He rushed to reassure her. “Avery—Dr. McAlister—said it probably wasn’t serious, but she was going to run some tests. I said we’d stop by after school to check on him.”
Minutes later, at the shelter, Avery walked into the exam room, Thor snuggled in her arms. Jess raced toward them.
“We gave this guy some fluids because he was a little dehydrated, but that’s nothing to worry about, Jess,” Avery commented in a soothing tone as she placed Thor on the metal table. “I ran some tests, but didn’t find anything.”
“Then why’d he get sick?”
Avery shrugged. “He might have eaten a plant or something outside that upset his system. Who knows. To help with the diarrhea I want you to give him some medicine once a day. The front desk will give you the dosage information when you check out.”
Reed bit his lip to keep from saying he’d told Jess she shouldn’t have given her dog the chicken last night, but he did toss a knowing glance in her direction.
“Let me show you both how to give Thor the medicine.” Avery reached into her scrub-top pocket and pulled out a plastic syringe filled with the pink liquid. When Reed remained nailed to his seat, both she and Jess turned to him. “I can see fine from here. I’m responsible for Jess. She’s responsible for the dog. That’s the chain of command.”
Jess shook her head and faced Avery. “He doesn’t like Thor.”
“The dog doesn’t like me,” Reed countered. As if to prove the point, Thor peered around Jess, glared at Reed and growled. “See.”
“That’s actually natural. Chihuahuas bond strongly with their owners and tend to distrust people they don’t know. Isn’t that right, Thor?”
Reed frowned. The danged mutt wagged his tail. But then, what male wouldn’t be hypnotized into submission receiving Avery’s full attention?
“Thor doesn’t understand why Colt is gone and you’re here,” Avery continued. “That adds to his uncertainty, but Jess can help him accept you.”
Acce
ptance? All he wanted was the dog to stay out of his way, and do his business outside. He could live with distant disdain.
Avery glanced between Reed and his niece. “Jess, would you go to the front desk and get some dog treats so we can work with Thor?”
When the door shut behind the teenager, Avery faced Reed, her hands on her hips. “Did it ever occur to you that Thor is upset with you because he senses the tension between you and Jess?”
“I love my niece.”
“Then prove it. You need to get to know her as a person. You need to show an interest in her life.”
Reed stiffened. “That’s going to take time. I just got here.”
“Remember she’s your niece, not one of your employees. And FYI, a good start would be making an effort to get along with her dog.”
Before he could answer, his cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered the call without so much as an Excuse me.
“What’s up, Ethan?”
Avery shoved her hands into her lab-coat pockets and took a deep breath. “Get off the phone. My time is valuable. I’ve got other animals waiting.”
Reed ended his call with a terse “I’ll call you back.”
The exam-room door swung open and Jess returned with the treats. The teenager glanced between the two adults. “Jeez, you two look like you’re about to take a swing at each other. What did I miss?”
Was that how they looked? Reed paled and stepped back.
“It’s nothing. Just a difference of opinion.” Avery cleared her throat. “Jess, if you want to help Thor accept your uncle, he should take over caring for him for a couple of days.”
“I don’t know.” Jess clutched her dog against her chest. “I want them to get along, but he’s my dog.”
“I understand. We can still do some things that will help.” She asked the teenager to sit in a chair by the door while she worked with Reed. “Both of you need to reinforce Thor’s good behavior with praise and treats, while you ignore the negative. Let me give you an example. Jess, if you’re holding Thor and he growls at your uncle, put him down and turn your back. If he doesn’t growl or act aggressively, Reed, you need to give him a treat and praise him in a high-pitched voice.” She demonstrated. “We call it a Minnie Mouse voice.”