by Lucy Gilmore
Her body was always warm and crackling, and her breath always disturbed the air around him. All she had to do was walk into a room, and Adam forgot about anything and anyone else in it.
Which was why he slid his grip up to hers, his rough, heavily callused palm easily capturing her softer one. He needed to confirm that she was flesh and blood, that her hand, like everyone else’s, was only a hand.
There was no magic to Dawn Vasquez. There was just attraction. It was important that he remember the distinction.
“Feel this?” he asked, pulling Dawn’s hand down the puppy’s bony rib cage to the swell of her stomach. He waited until her fingers ran over the hard protrusions. Like him, she was extraordinarily gentle, unwilling to push too hard for fear of hurting the animal more than she had to. “There are a few of those lumps shifting around in here. If she was hungry enough, she might have eaten them to try and fill her stomach. I’m assuming you found her abandoned on the side of the highway somewhere?”
Dawn’s hand twitched but didn’t pull away. “Yes. Abandoned.”
“The rocks are probably blocking her digestive tract, which is why she’s not eating. Marcia will be able to tell us whether or not they’ll need to be surgically removed, but I prefer not to resort to such extreme measures on one of my animals unless I have to.”
“You mean, you’d prefer not to resort to such extreme measures on one of my animals unless you have to.”
“I think I’ll call her Methuselah,” he said with a bland disregard for Dawn’s protest. “Because of how wrinkly all the fur around her neck is.”
“You can’t name a puppy that! She’s only a few months old.”
He rose to his feet and eased the hunch in his shoulders with a shrug. The gesture was largely for show—a way of proving to Dawn that he felt nothing for either of the soft, pliant creatures currently seated on his couch—but it also had the benefit of easing an ache in his upper back. He’d spent most of the morning reinstalling that damned fence by the west field. He hadn’t been kidding about the rogue cow.
“I suppose I could name her Dawn, too, but that might be taking things too far, even for me. One woman and one cow is more than enough already.” He turned toward the sound of the front door. “Oh, Zeke, are you back? I hope you didn’t take up too much of Sheriff Jenkins’s time. Dawn and I were just discussing what we should name my new service puppy. I don’t think she approves of me calling her Methuselah.”
His brother chuckled. “I don’t know that I approve, either. We have enough Biblical names in this family already. You and Phoebe got off easy, but Ezekiel’s a hard thing to live up to.” Then Zeke hesitated and added, “Uh, Adam, about the puppy…”
“She couldn’t have come at a better time.” Adam nodded in Zeke’s direction. “As soon as the expansion plans go through, it’ll almost double the amount of land we need to cover in a day. A service dog will be a big help. Thank you for thinking of me—both of you. It means a lot.”
This last part was said with the sole intention of getting a reaction out of Dawn. It was beneath him, he knew, but he couldn’t resist. He’d obviously been used as a Get Out of Jail Free card—a way for Zeke and Dawn to avoid a speeding ticket—and nothing more. The least they could do was admit it.
“Well, the thing is…” Zeke began in a voice tinged at the edge with sheepishness. “See, we were… Um, it was just…”
“Yes?” Adam prodded. “Were you afraid I’d balk at the puppy’s condition? Is that it? Don’t worry. I’m not that hard-hearted.”
“Actually—”
“Actually, you can’t have her,” Dawn interrupted before Zeke could make another feeble attempt at explaining himself. “Even if I were willing to give her up, which I’m not, she’s nowhere near qualified enough to become a service puppy.”
“Well, well. Now who’s being hard-hearted?”
“Adam!” Dawn released a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Besides, I thought you said you prefer golden retrievers for this kind of work,” he said. When Dawn didn’t answer right away, he added helpfully, “Because of her concentration and intelligence. That’s what you told Sheriff Jenkins, wasn’t it? I’m sure I could call him back to confirm.”
The threat hung lightly in the air, flittering around them as Dawn weighed her options. As far as Adam could tell, there were only two. She could admit the truth—that she’d used him and his blindness to get out of a tight spot—or she could dig in her heels and brazen it out.
She chose the exact one he’d assumed she would.
With a dignity that could only belong to a woman as shameless as this one, she said, “Upon further consideration, I don’t think she’ll be a good fit for you. She’s not trained for life on a ranch.”
“Weird. You’d think a professional dog trainer would be able to work around that.”
Dawn ignored him. “And it’ll take months to get her up to her full health. It’s not fair to ask you to shoulder the burden of her care.”
“I’m happy to do it.”
“Adam, this isn’t what you think,” Zeke said, once more trying to insert himself into the argument.
Adam stopped him with one raised finger. As much as he appreciated his brother’s willingness to come clean, this wasn’t his fight. It was Dawn’s.
And mine. When it came to Dawn, the fight was his. It always had been.
“Well?” he prodded. “Is this or isn’t this my new service puppy? I believe I was promised one. I’d hate for Sheriff Jenkins to come by another day and find me toiling in the fields all alone. What would he think?”
Dawn’s struggle with herself was a silent one, but Adam could feel it just fine. Oh, how he felt it. It flooded the air around her, filled the corners of the living room, grew hot and heavy in his own blood.
“Of course she’s yours,” she finally said. Her voice was tight with suppressed emotion, but no less musical because of it. “But our service puppies don’t come cheap. You’ll be expected to pay the full price for her.”
“Of course,” he replied. “I’m delighted to welcome Methuselah into the fold.”
“And you’ll have to cover all her veterinary bills, too. Even if that means surgery to get those rocks out of her stomach.”
He nodded, finding it incredibly easy to be magnanimous now that he was winning. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Of course, all your fees will include the six-week training period, too,” Dawn said. She appeared to be making a recovery, her voice gaining strength as well as that familiar tinge of mischief, as if she’d caught on to his game and was preparing to give him hell right back. “Possibly longer, given her current state. Lucky for you, I recently finished up a case with another client, so I’m wholly at your disposal.”
A nervous qualm turned the hot, heavy blood in his veins to something more dangerous…something that felt an awful lot like lava. “You are?”
“Naturally. I wouldn’t hand over a case as important as this to one of my sisters. It’ll be great. Just you and me and the puppy, working together for eight hours every day.”
“Eight hours?” Adam found himself echoing. The lava hardened. “Every day?”
“It’s the Puppy Promise way. You know, I wonder if it wouldn’t be better for me to live here for the duration of the training. Since I’m already such good friends with the family, I’m sure you guys wouldn’t mind, and you have the extra space. It’s an awfully long drive from Spokane.”
Adam felt it was time to put his foot down on this little game. Both feet, in fact, with all the force he could carry in his steel-toed work boots.
“You wouldn’t,” he said.
Her laughter came out in a warm, liquid burst. “I would, actually, but you’re in luck. It just so happens that both my sisters have moved out, a
nd I can’t leave the rest of our puppies alone in the kennel at night. But don’t worry—I’ll be here bright and early every morning. It’ll be fun.”
He should have put a stop to this charade at once. Dawn could keep both her victory and her dog. Nothing good would come of giving her free rein over his house. She’d already won over Zeke, and Phoebe practically ate out of the palm of her hand. There was no telling what would happen if she was given full access to Adam, too.
Actually, there was. That was the whole problem. It would be the same thing that always happened whenever he and Dawn shared a room for more than ten minutes at a time.
There would be fighting. There would be flirting.
There would be fucking.
Adam had no way of knowing if that last one pushed him over the edge, or if the decision had been made for him the moment Dawn stepped through the door. Either way, his voice was resigned as he accepted the challenge being offered.
“Perfect,” he lied. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”
* * *
“She’s a sweet little thing, isn’t she?” Marcia’s soft, clipped voice was followed by the snap of her medical bag being closed. She’d come out to the ranch as soon as they’d called, her examination swift but sure. “Every time I press somewhere it hurts, she just licks me to try to get me to stop. It’s breaking my heart.”
“But she’ll be okay, right?” Dawn asked anxiously. “She doesn’t need surgery or anything? Just a little extra love and care, and she’ll be as good as new?”
Adam was more grateful than he could say that Dawn put into words the exact thing he was feeling. He didn’t want to speak for fear that it would dislodge the puppy. The entire exam had taken place on his lap because Methuselah wouldn’t leave it. Five seconds away from any of the people currently in this living room, and she started shaking and whimpering as though it caused her physical pain.
Adam could relate. It was hard to give up a warm lap once it had finally been offered.
“Love, antibiotics, a strict feeding schedule, and a few weeks of good Dearborn Ranch air, and she’ll be back on her feet.” Adam could practically hear the smile in Marcia’s voice. She always had a smile in her voice. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d had to call her in the middle of the night to tend to a sick cow, but she rarely lost one. That was probably what made her so cheerful.
Well, either that or the fact that she was a happily married mother of three with the respect and admiration of just about everyone who knew her. It was a toss-up.
“She’s lucky you found her when you did, though,” Marcia said. “She wouldn’t have lasted much more than a day or two like this. Where did you say you came across her?”
“I didn’t” came Dawn’s easy reply. “But it wasn’t too far from here.”
“Strange. It’s not often you find a puppy like this one abandoned on the side of the road.” There were a few more rustling sounds as Marcia packed up her gear and prepared to head out. It was growing late, and Adam was sure she had several more house calls to make before her day was through. Life out here wasn’t easy on any of them. “If she’s purebred—and from the looks of it, she is—that’s over a thousand bucks someone left behind. She may have been lost. Do you want me to put out some feelers to find her owners?”
“No!” Both Adam and Dawn spoke at the same time and with the same passionate reaction. The volume caused Methuselah to give a nervous jump, but Adam put his hand on top of her head to calm her. She seemed to like that—burrowing somewhere warm, contentedly assuming that Adam was there to provide protection.
In a more moderate tone so as not to cause the puppy to jump again, he added, “You said yourself that these sores have been developing for quite some time. I’m not so sure that whoever lost her deserves her back.”
“Suit yourself,” Marcia said, still cheery. “If it were my puppy who’d gone missing, I’d be frantic to find some news of her. You would, too, Adam, even though you’re much better than I am at maintaining emotional distance.”
He couldn’t disagree with that. Harboring sentimental feelings toward ranch animals was a hazardous approach to life in a place like this. You couldn’t go around getting attached to every cow who lowed her way into your heart, or there wouldn’t be anything left of it by the end of the first season. You could respect the animals. You could appreciate the animals. But there was no falling in love.
That was the first—and only—rule.
“I’ll be by again in the morning to check on her progress, but don’t hesitate to give me a call if you have any concerns,” Marcia said. “Dawn, it was lovely to meet you.”
“Likewise. I’ll see you out.”
Adam would have protested that—Dawn acting like the lady of the manor, escorting a veterinarian who’d been running around this place since she was a kid—but there was no way he could get up without moving Methuselah.
He realized his mistake the moment Dawn returned to the living room. The hot, heaving body on his lap had him pinned to the couch, unable to flee in any direction. Zeke had long since left to go for a run, and Phoebe never seemed to be around when he needed her.
In other words, he was trapped.
“Sheriff Jenkins wasn’t kidding about Marcia, was he?” Dawn asked, perfectly casual. “I can tell why she’s considered the best in twelve counties.”
Adam ignored her. Maybe if he refused to rise to her bait, she’d take the hint and leave.
Nice try, Adam. When has that ever worked before?
As if to prove it, Dawn’s weight sagged the arm of the couch next to him. Her hand brushed his as she reached down to scratch the puppy behind the ear.
“I can also tell that you’d like nothing more than for me to take myself off and leave you alone,” she said. Coming from any other woman, those words might be intended to make him feel guilty. Coming from this woman, they were almost certainly a declaration of war. “But I’m feeling awfully exhausted from my long day of puppy rescue. Mind if I curl up next to you and take a nap?”
“Don’t you have a house of your own?”
“Yes, but it’s sad and empty and I don’t want to go back to it alone.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Because you two look so adorable, all snuggled up together and trying to get rid of me.” Dawn paused, the laughter still in her voice. “She’s the same color as your pants, by the way. A kind of warm, beigy tan with dark-golden ears. She’ll eventually grow into those neck wrinkles, but right now she looks like she needs to be ironed.”
Adam grunted a noncommittal reply. He’d never admit it to this woman, but the easy way she described the puppy to him was both helpful and thoughtful. A lot of people made a huge production out of painting the world around him, sounding more like art students let loose in a museum for the first time than actual human beings. The play of the light over the leaves… The sun-dappled mountains rising in the distance… Poetry was all well and good for some people, but all Adam needed were the basic facts, thanks.
There’s a tree five feet to your right.
The dog is tan.
Dawn Vasquez is quite possibly the most gorgeous and dangerous woman to ever grace God’s green earth.
Facts he could work with. Facts he understood. A bout with meningitis in early childhood had left him without much in the way of sight, but he had plenty of common sense. And common sense, that old bastard, was more than happy to make up for whatever else his life might be lacking.
“Oh, relax,” she said. “I’m not going to force myself into your arms. I can see that they’re full right now.”
“I am relaxed,” he protested.
“No, you’re not. You’re tense and all worked up and look like you can’t decide whether you want to throw me out of your house or into your bed.”
He had the answer to that r
eady to go. “It’s definitely the first one.”
She knew it for the lie it was. With a light, musical laugh, she leaned down and dropped a kiss on Methuselah’s head. Adam held himself still, hoping that by being immobile he could also somehow become invisible, but it was no use. Dawn pressed another of those soft, easy kisses on his cheek as she passed it by.
“You were my hero today, you know,” she said. “Saving me from that big, bad sheriff. Taking this poor, defenseless puppy under your wing without a single question.”
“Then why do I get the feeling you’re about to make me regret it?” he countered.
“Because I am.” All the playfulness dropped from her voice, her pretense at seduction gone in a flash. She was exceptionally good at that—turning herself off and on, and turning him off and on with it. “You can’t keep her, Adam. She’s not a service dog. Even if she were in the peak of health, which she’s not, being a guide dog takes a lot of work. Especially on a ranch this size.”
It was no use asking him to explain why that simple statement—offered in true Dawn Vasquez style without any bullshit—caused such a strong reaction inside Adam’s chest, but it did.
“You brought her here,” he said, his hand curled possessively over the top of Methuselah’s head. The puppy seemed to sense that she was the topic of conversation, but she was too exhausted to do anything more than heave a small sigh. “You put her under my protection. You made me lie to an officer of the law.”
“Technically, I didn’t make you do anything…”
His laugh was sharp and short. “You never do, Dawn. That’s the thing I can’t understand. No matter how determined I am not to fall for whatever it is you’re trying to sell, I always end up holding the check.”
“Fine. I’ll go.” He felt the weight of her rising from the couch arm. She took all the heat and comfort of her body with her. “I’ll take the puppy home, where my sisters and I can look out for her. I won’t answer the phone when you call. I’ll tell Zeke that I’m allergic to cows or something, so he has to come to me in Spokane if he wants to hang out. Would that make you happy?”