Puppy Kisses

by Lucy Gilmore

  No one can tame me, his stance seemed to say. No one can make me do anything I don’t want to. And woe to the woman who tries.

  “That’s right,” Dawn said, unable to look away. “When I want something, there’s nothing in this world or the next that will stop me. And that, Mrs. Benson, is a promise.”

  * * *

  “I call dibs on the shower,” Phoebe announced.

  “I guess that ruins my plans,” Dawn said. She leaped out of the driver’s side of the truck and watched as Phoebe trotted toward the ranch house without waiting to see if anyone planned on countering her claim. “I was going to try and lure you into something wet and steamy.”

  “You can lure all you want,” Adam replied. He also stepped out of the truck, though with slightly more caution. “But it would be useless to get in the habit of cleanliness on your first day. You have no idea what you’ve signed on for. By the time you’re done helping Bea Benson, you won’t know where your skin begins and the dirt ends.”

  Dawn laughed. Threatening words held no power over her when they were being uttered by a man who looked as cool and pristine as Adam. The only signs of exertion he showed were a pair of mud-splattered boots and a slightly rakish ruffle to his hair.

  She hadn’t fared nearly as well, obviously, but that hadn’t stopped him from putting his hands around her waist and hoisting her into the truck when they left, his hold much higher—and lingering for much longer—than necessary. Clearly, a layer of dirt wasn’t too much of a deterrent for this man.

  “I already know every inch of my own skin, thanks,” she replied. “And so do you, if we want to get literal about it.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Suit yourself.” She shrugged. “But I’m not the one who was trying to cop a feel while helping a poor, defenseless damsel into a truck. And while your sister was just a few feet away, too. Shame on you.”

  Adam slammed the truck door. “Well, one of us has to have some shame, and it’s sure as hell not going to be you. What are you even wearing? Is that supposed to be a shirt?”

  Dawn bit her lower lip to keep her laughter from escaping. The expression on Adam’s face was trying so hard to be outraged, but he mostly looked aroused. “It used to be one, at any rate. I’ll tack the dry cleaning bill onto my official Puppy Promise invoice.”

  “This sounds an awful lot like extortion. Can’t you wear normal, machine-washable clothes instead?”

  “I could, but what would be the fun in that?” She waited until Adam had walked around the truck and joined her before making her way up to the house. He knew these grounds well enough to walk without assistance or the cane he used in more public places, but she liked to be on hand anyway. “Where’d you leave the puppies, by the way? I’m a little worried about Gigi. Uncle is an absolute sweetheart when it comes to other dogs, but I’m not sure how socialized Gigi’s going to be yet.”

  “Methuselah is in the kitchen” came his quick reply. “And if that Great Dane of yours did anything to hurt her…”

  That made her laugh, too. One of the first things they did whenever they got a puppy in for training was make sure they got plenty of playtime with the other animals. For the past few weeks, Uncle had been the first face that all of the newcomers met. He was a giant, all right, but as gentle as they came. She’d walked into the kennel the other day to find him sitting patiently in the middle of the room with a Chihuahua dangling from each ear.

  She didn’t know if it was her laughter that spurred Adam on to the kitchen or if it was genuine concern for the puppies, but he picked up his pace to a near-trot. As he pulled open the kitchen door, he also opened his mouth to call out to them, but Dawn forestalled him with a hand on his forearm.

  “Don’t,” she warned. His muscle twitched under the press of her fingers, but he didn’t pull away. “I can see them from here. You’ll wake them up.”

  “They’re asleep?”

  “Sound asleep. Like a couple of babies. Gigi is all curled up next to Uncle’s belly, with her head tucked under his chin. It might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  He hesitated. “You’re not making that up?”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Adam,” she said softly. She’d do a lot of things to rile this man up, but lying about what she could see wasn’t one of them. “I told you Uncle is a keeper. He’s got really great instincts. He must have known what Gigi needed to feel okay.”

  As if on cue, Gigi gave a sleepy yawn and began to stretch her limbs, whimpering softly when she strained too hard against one of the sores on her stomach. Adam showed every sign of wanting to leap to her aid, but Dawn held him back.

  “I was afraid something like this might happen,” she murmured, watching as Uncle licked liberally at Gigi’s face until she settled back down. The Great Dane must have heard them, because he cast Dawn a huge, gray-eyed look that seemed to say exactly what she was thinking: I guess I’m stuck now, aren’t I?

  “Something like what?” Adam asked.

  “They’re attached.”

  “Attached?”

  “Best buds. Inseparable. Soul mates.” Dawn heaved a sigh. “Gigi took one look at him and decided no one else would do for her. She’ll definitely be useless as a guide dog now. A female in love is the worst kind for getting anything done.”

  Adam squared his shoulders in a gesture of pure defiance. “Okay, now you really are making things up. Either that, or you brought Uncle here on purpose to thwart me.”

  That made her laugh. “Of course I brought him here to thwart you. Everything I’m doing is to thwart you. Didn’t I make that clear? I don’t chase down cows and tackle cranky old ladies for fun, you know. I’m only helping Bea with her garden so you give Uncle a real try—none of this two-day-trial nonsense.”

  “You have serious problems.”

  “What I have is a strong determination to get my puppy back,” she countered. “And I’ll stop at nothing to succeed.”

  “That’s funny, because I was thinking the same thing.”

  It was strange that the challenge he offered could make her heart pound like that—the same as his smile, the same as his kiss—but she’d long since stopped questioning the impulses that drove her.

  “Well, we’ll just have to see what happens, won’t we?” she said. “A lot can happen in six weeks.”

  * * *

  “No way.” Zeke clomped heavily into the kitchen at the end of the day, still in his work boots and most likely leaving a trail of dirt everywhere he went. The squeak of Adam’s bare feet on the linoleum floor indicated that their cleaning woman had come and gone while they were chasing down the cow, but that wouldn’t trouble his brother any. “You’re really going over to Bea’s house to help with her garden? On purpose? The walls aren’t really made of gingerbread, Dawn. Don’t follow the crumbs, or you’ll turn into a pillar of salt.”

  “That’s not how any of those stories go,” Adam said, but he wasn’t sure if anyone heard him over the clatter of the pots and pans. In addition to the pasta he was making for dinner, he apparently needed to add a pie into the mix. The Smithwoods must be in the homestretch of negotiations if the only temptation they were offering anymore was a cake or two. In addition to today’s attempt at a bribe, he’d already doubled his own offer for the Benson lands. There was only so much he could do.

  “What made you agree to it?” Zeke continued. The clomping had stopped, so Adam could only assume his brother had thrown himself onto one of the dining room chairs in the attached room. Dawn and Phoebe already sat in there shucking corn. “Are you being blackmailed or something?”

  “Nope. I just like being able to hold your brother over a barrel,” Dawn said. Her voice was cheerful and triumphant—the same way it had been since her victory over the cow. And over me. “Now he has to give poor Uncle a try. Isn’t that right, Gigi? Soon, you’ll be able to come home with me where
you belong.”

  “She’s not going anywhere,” Adam said. “I promised to give Uncle a chance in exchange for your sacrifice, not part ways with Methuselah forever.”

  Aware that he was the subject of conversation, the Great Dane puppy approached him from the right. He sidled close enough for Adam to feel his presence, but not so close he got in the way of Adam’s movements. Damn. The animal was really good at this—of knowing where he needed to be and when he needed to be there, of being present without being obtrusive. Dawn had obviously known what she was doing when she’d chosen him.

  “What a good boy you are, Uncle,” Dawn said as if to prove it. Her voice was much closer than the dining room table this time, causing Adam to fumble with the can of crushed tomatoes in his hand. “So docile and biddable and eager to please. Remind me—that’s how you like them, isn’t it?”

  He almost dropped the can of tomatoes this time, and right onto poor Uncle’s head, too. “Stay out from behind the kitchen counter, please,” he said by way of answer. “I need a clear workspace to keep track of what I’m doing.”

  It wasn’t much, but it was all he could say. Dawn was the least docile and biddable woman in existence, and she knew it. As for being eager to please, well…the less said on that subject, the better. He’d never known anyone to be so specific and demanding with her needs—or so well versed in all the various terms for human anatomy. Every interaction with her was an education.

  “Oh, I know you do.” Her voice bubbled over with laughter. “This isn’t my first rodeo. Gigi and I are just sitting on the island stools and watching you work, aren’t we, girl? The corn is behind you next to the fruit bowl, by the way. About eight o’clock.”

  He nodded a quick thanks and continued tossing contents into the saucepan. He was no gourmet chef, but he liked cooking. There was something soothing about the task of chopping and cutting and combining ingredients, an act of creation that, with the right practice, drew from every sense except sight. Most other artistic pursuits were beyond his reach—he was no Bach, alas—but this was one area where he could put a little of himself into his work. Probably the only area. There wasn’t a whole lot of room for creativity in the breeding and butchering of cows.

  Even naming them was dangerous work. Look what had happened with Dawn the cow. Naming her had given her power. Now she was just as much of a menace as the real thing.

  “What’s the deal with that Bea lady, anyway?” Dawn asked. “She doesn’t seem to think much of you guys.”

  “Oh, she doesn’t like us. She doesn’t like anyone.” Phoebe’s voice appeared next to Dawn’s. It was equally cheerful, though for less ominous reasons. “Is it okay if I put Gigi in my lap? I don’t want to hurt her.”

  “Her name is Methuselah, and yes, you can hold her. Marcia said positive human contact is a must.”

  “Oh, is that why you let her sleep at the foot of your bed last night?” Phoebe asked, laughing. “And here I thought it was because you were afraid to leave her alone.”

  Adam ignored her. It would have taken a much stronger man than him to force that whimpering bundle to sleep on the floor. She’d somehow decided that Adam was the only one who could protect her at night, and he was determined not to let her down. Contrary to the opinion of everyone in this room, he did occasionally yield to his softer side.

  “It was the least I could do,” he said loftily. “Puppies who lack affection can have all kinds of problems later on.”

  “Humans, too,” Dawn added mischievously. “We all need a little love sometimes, wouldn’t you say, Adam? Just look how miserable that poor lady today was. Does she live in that huge farmhouse all by herself?”

  The provocation was strong, but he managed to subdue the urge to retaliate in kind. The only way to beat Dawn at anything was simply not to play.

  “She’s lived there alone for as long as I can remember,” he replied. “She had a husband once upon a time, but he left the picture long before I took over the ranch.”

  As was almost always the case whenever he mentioned his rise in status at Dearborn Ranch, a somewhat subdued hush fell over the room. Adam had only been nineteen when their father died and put him in charge of this place. And of Zeke and Phoebe, who’d only been fifteen. It had been a lot to heap on any teenager’s shoulders, let alone one who faced a few extra hurdles in life. Within the space of a few months, he’d had to learn how to cook and make sure the twins got to school, helped with trigonometry homework and prom-date woes—and all of that on top of his regular workload.

  It had been hard on them emotionally, too. Their father had been old when they were born; older still as they moved through their teens, but that hadn’t made him any less of a presence in their lives. He’d never been a warm man—not really, not after their mom died having the twins—but when your whole life and livelihood was tied up in a place like this, it was impossible not to become dependent on those around you.

  The fact that they were all still working here was clear proof of that. For good or for bad, he and Phoebe and Zeke were bound. Roped together like a herd of cattle heaving and thronging as one.

  Adam cleared his throat—and, in the process, cleared the air. “All that land is a lot for anyone to maintain by themselves, let alone a woman of her age,” he said. “I assume that’s why she’s selling out.”

  “Selling out?” Dawn echoed.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s the hottest thing to happen around these parts since that two-headed deer was seen stalking the north woods.” Phoebe began fidgeting with the condiments on the counter, the clatter of the ketchup bottle and saltshaker ringing together. “Her acreage is some of the best in these parts. Water access, highly arable land… I won’t tell you how much Adam has offered her for it. It makes him turn red to think about it.”

  Predictably, Adam felt his color rise. There was no denying that he’d already gone much higher than he’d ever planned, but what other choice did he have? Bea Benson drove a hard bargain.

  “It would allow us to add an extra hundred head of cattle to our operation,” he said in a level tone. “Which, by the way, is a thing all three of us agreed to. This is as much your ranch as it is mine.”

  “You guys are expanding?” Dawn asked. “Weird. Zeke never said anything.”

  “That’s because Zeke doesn’t think it’ll actually go through,” his brother said. Like the other two, he’d pulled close to the kitchen counter to join the conversation. “If you ask me, Bea’s just toying with Adam. Adam and the Smithwoods both. She’ll never actually sell. She only wants to see how far he’ll bend over.”

  “And how far will he bend?” Dawn asked. “For purely scientific reasons.”

  The heat that had risen to the surface of his skin didn’t abate any, but Adam busied himself with straining the pasta. The steam was as good an excuse for the flush as any. “I offered a little above market value, that’s all. Not that it mattered. She didn’t bite. It would have been worth the extra money to see the Smithwoods squirm.”

  “Why do we want the Smithwoods to squirm?”

  Zeke laughed. The sound was followed by the pop of a cork and the gurgle of wine being poured out. Apparently, they were turning this into a whole thing—food and drink and family camaraderie. Adam’s heart gave an odd sort of thunk at how good it felt, how ordinary. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d done this on a day that wasn’t a holiday or a funeral.

  “We’ve been at war with their family for years,” Zeke said. “Didn’t you know? They’re our mortal enemies.”

  Dawn paused long enough to swallow. “We have a mortal enemy? And no one told me?”

  No one bothered to correct Dawn’s pronoun usage. It didn’t seem to matter that she was just a friend of Zeke’s, a dog trainer they’d hired to work on-site for the next six weeks. Now that Adam thought about it, he didn’t recall any of them inviting her to stay for dinner, either. Yet
for her to leave now would have ruined the evening for all three of them.

  “Okay. Spill.” Dawn rapped her knuckles on the island top. “What’s the matter with them?”

  “Oh, not much,” Zeke replied. “It’s only that they’re stuck up and greedy and would love nothing more than to see our entire family in ruins. We’ve been at war with them for generations. It’s a modern-day medieval feud.”

  “People don’t have feuds in our day and age,” Phoebe protested. “They just get annoyed with each other on the internet.”

  “Tell that to the Smithwoods,” Zeke countered.

  Since Dawn wasn’t likely to get any sense out of either Phoebe or Zeke, Adam cleared his throat and did his best to summarize over fifty years of antagonism. “Their ranch is located on the other side of the Benson property,” he explained. “It’s the only direction either of us can expand, and whoever buys her land will control the best natural water resource in this area. Naturally, we’re both very eager to get our hands on it. And even more naturally, Bea Benson knows it. She’s been toying around with us both for years.”

  “Oh.” Dawn sounded disappointed. “It’s a land dispute.”

  “It’s a lot more than that,” Zeke retorted. “Tell her the best part, Adam.”

  “I don’t see what difference it makes.”

  “The Smithwoods used to own the land our ranch is located on,” Zeke said. From the dramatic way he spoke, you’d think he was sharing a deep, dark family secret. Which, Adam supposed, wasn’t too far from the truth. “But our grandfather won the deed from Peter Smithwood in a poker game.”

  “Okay, I like where this is headed.”

  Zeke lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “A poker game in which it’s reputed that Grandpa Dearborn cheated.”

  “Okay, now I really like where this is headed. I always knew there was something a little dirty about you guys.”

  Adam coughed heavily. The less time Dawn spent discussing the dirty ways of the Dearborn generations—past and present—the better. “We spend way too much time thinking about that stupid family as it is,” he said. “I’m sure we can come up with something else to talk about for one evening, can’t we?”