Puppy Kisses

by Lucy Gilmore

  “I do too,” he protested. “Trust me. This is all part of a game she’s playing.”

  “Yeah. A game called life.” Zeke touched Adam’s shoulder. His hand lingered there, making Adam fear what came next.

  He was right to be scared.

  “You love her, don’t you?” Zeke asked.

  Instinct and months of practice almost had Adam voicing a flat denial. No, he didn’t love Dawn. No, he had never loved her. It had all been a fun, frenetic, fleeting relationship based on how nicely their bodies fit together. Period.

  “Yes,” he said instead.

  Zeke hefted a sigh. “I was afraid of that. You’ve loved her for quite a while, yeah?”

  He shrugged, causing Zeke’s hand to fall off his shoulder. The absence of it felt heavier than its presence. “Do you really need an answer to that?”

  “No, but I’d like to hear it.”

  There was nothing else he could say. Even if he had kept his mouth shut that day at the poker game, the way he’d been moping around the ranch for the past four weeks would have been a serious clue.

  Besides—he was tired of pretending. He was tired of holding everything inside.

  “Yes. I’ve loved her since almost the first moment we met.”

  Zeke’s response was automatic and underscored with a laugh. “Then you should know better than anyone that she’s not leaving until she’s damn good and ready. Dawn Vasquez does exactly what she wants to do when she wants to do it, and there isn’t a man, woman, or puppy on the planet who can stop her.” Zeke made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Hand me that ax, would you? We might as well make some headway on that woodpile while we talk.”

  Adam pulled the ax from the ground and handed it to him. “Are we talking?”

  He heard the thunk of a log being dropped to the splitting stump followed by a whoosh and a crack as Zeke’s aim landed dead-on. “I think we should. I’ve put this off long enough.”

  Adam would have liked to have ahold of the ax so he could be the one distracting himself with work, but he had to make do by calling Uncle over and settling onto the ground next to him. Although it seemed almost impossible, the puppy had doubled in size since the day Dawn had first brought him over. It was like sitting next to one of his cows.

  “You’re leaving the ranch, aren’t you?” Adam asked.

  The whiz of the ax stopped midblow. “What? How did you—?”

  “Call it an educated guess. Your heart hasn’t been in it for a long time.” He lay back in the grass, enjoying the tickle of the blades against his skin. Speaking of long times…he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this—lounging in the yard, talking to his brother about the things that mattered, the things that were in their hearts. “I wish you’d said something before I went through all the trouble of trying to oust Bea, but better late than never, I guess. Do you want me to buy you out?”

  Zeke sucked in a breath so fast it whistled through his teeth. “Can you buy me out?”

  “Not out of pocket, obviously, but I’m sure the bank will step in to help.”

  Zeke began talking a mile a minute. “I don’t want to put a financial strain on you and Phoebe, and we’ll have to find someone to replace me for the daily chores, but if you think it’s possible… Adam, do you really think it’s possible?”

  A few months ago, the answer to that question would have been an unequivocal no. There was too much work and too little predictability, too many things that could go wrong on a ranch of this size.

  But a few months ago, he hadn’t had the most amazing service dog by his side. He hadn’t witnessed one of Zeke’s races for himself. He hadn’t realized that to force someone you loved to live a life not of their own choosing was the worst thing you could do.

  “I mean, I don’t like it, but if it’s what you want, then we’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen.” He sat up, the fingers of his right hand toying with a weed. “I love this place like it’s my own child, but I can’t expect everyone to share my feelings. I’m not going to tie you down to it. I’m not going to tie anyone down to it.”

  “Uh-oh. We’re talking about Dawn again, aren’t we?”

  Adam yanked the weed from the dirt. “No. I don’t know. Maybe.” There was no use pretending about this anymore, either. He heaved a sigh and tossed the weed aside. “Yes.”

  The jangle of dog tags was just as much of a surprise the second time around. Since there wasn’t an ax in his hand, he was able to open his arms and catch Gigi. She was just as exuberant and enthusiastic as before, which meant Adam had to be just as stern at subduing her. Things couldn’t keep going on like this. They couldn’t.

  “Gigi, love,” he said, giving her a gentle push back to the ground. “You can’t keep running over here. I appreciate your affections, I really do, but you aren’t mine. You never were.”

  “Uh, Adam?” Zeke asked.

  “I know. Dawn is probably standing right there. There’s no help for it. We’ve got to train this dog to understand where she belongs, or it’s going to keep being painful for all of us.”

  “But she’s not standing right there,” Zeke said. The swish of his legs trailed off, which explained why his voice sounded equally far away. “In fact, I don’t see her anywhere.”

  Adam sighed and hoisted himself to his feet. He hadn’t been anticipating a long walk between properties today, which meant he hadn’t brought Uncle’s harness with him, but it seemed he’d have to go retrieve it anyway. Under no circumstances could Gigi stay here.

  “Then I guess we’re going to take in the scenery,” he said, resigned. “How could she have possibly lost control of you in the fifteen minutes since she left? Uncle, where are you?”

  He snapped his fingers to bring the Great Dane to his side, but for the first time since that puppy had been introduced into his life, no large, wet nose pressed into his waiting hand.

  “Uncle?” he called. “Zeke—what is Uncle doing?”

  “Oh shit,” Zeke said by way of answer. “He took off. Fuck—he and Gigi both.”

  Adam whirled in the most obvious direction of their departure, his ears on alert for the sounds of Dawn’s footsteps and laughter. Neither came.

  “Uncle stopped at the rise to the southwest,” Zeke said. “He’s looking back at us like he wants us to follow. Adam, you don’t think Dawn and those shoes…?”

  Adam bit back a curse. “Yes, actually. I do think it, and it serves her right. I hope she fell into an entire field of poison oak. Come on. We’d better go pull her out.”

  Zeke took his arm and began walking with him in a generally southwestern direction. His speed was fast and anxious, making Adam wonder if his brother knew something he didn’t.

  “You know as well as I do that there isn’t any poison oak around here,” Zeke said, his voice tense. “We only said that to scare her—which, now that I think about it, was our first mistake. She isn’t afraid of anything. I accused her once of being afraid of you, and all she did was laugh and say she’d stab you with her EpiPen if she had to.”

  Adam halted, yanking Zeke to a stop with him. “Her EpiPen?”

  “Yeah. She’s super allergic to bees. They’re the only thing in the world that has a chance of slowing her down.”

  At those words, every part of Adam stopped—his breathing and his steps, the steady beat of his heart. So many times, he’d cursed the speed and joy with which Dawn moved, stood by in wonder as she did and said exactly what she wanted. From the start, it had been what drew him to her. There was so much life in her—so much love—that just being near her had been an experience worth having.

  Knowing there was something that could bring all that to a crashing halt ripped something from his soul.

  “Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me that?” he demanded, whirling on his brother. “There’s a hive the size of a watermelon along t
he riverbank at the edge of Bea’s property. I’ve told her a dozen times that we’d be happy to take it down for her, but—”

  “Fuck.” Zeke’s oath matched the rush of blood that was suddenly pounding through Adam’s veins. “There was no way Dawn had her EpiPen on her today. That dress barely had a skirt, let alone a pocket.”

  “Go to her house and get it.”

  “I will, but first—”

  “Go to her goddamned house and get the goddamn medical device she needs to stay alive.” Adam’s entire body flushed hot and then cold, his skin breaking out in goose bumps despite the heat of the day. If anything happened to that woman, if they didn’t get to her in time…

  “I’ll find her even if I have to crawl over every inch of that riverbank on my hands and knees,” Adam said, though he wasn’t sure which of them he was saying it to.

  “But—” Zeke began again.

  “Please, Zeke.” Adam’s voice cracked. He didn’t bother trying to hide his desperation. Asking for help wasn’t something that came easy to him—and he doubted it ever would—but some things were more important than pride. “It’ll take me too long to get somewhere I can call for help. Her best chance is for you to bring the EpiPen to her. Run, Zeke. I know you know how.”

  Zeke didn’t waste any more time in arguing. With quick assent, he loped off in the direction of Bea’s farmhouse.

  It would have been a lot easier to search for Dawn if he had either Uncle or Gigi to provide him with some guidance, but Adam hadn’t spent thirty-three years on this land for nothing. If he remembered correctly, the hive was located in a grove of trees by the creek’s edge. He and the twins had spent hours there as kids, climbing the branches and daring each other to swing from one to the other. Adam had spent quite a few hours there as an adult, too, enjoying the breeze that lifted up off the surface of the water and scented the air.

  He hadn’t been kidding when he said he loved this place like his own child. He knew every leaf in every tree, every furrow in every field. It was in his soul and in his blood—a gift from Grandpa Dearborn, who had loved it just as much as he did.

  None of that mattered now. Leaves and trees grew everywhere. Cows could be relocated. Even the family farmhouse was just a pile of cement and wood and carpet that only mattered because of who lived there. If someone were to offer him the opportunity to give it all up for a promise that Dawn would be okay, he’d take that deal in an instant—signed, sealed, and never once regretted.

  Sorry, Grandpa.

  “Dawn!” he called, even though he had no idea if she’d be able to respond. His knowledge of anaphylaxis was slight, but he knew that time was the most important factor. “Dawn Vasquez, you pain in my ass and general plague upon the earth, where are you?”

  The only answer was a rustle of a breeze and the sound of a rock kicking off the toe of his boot. Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to slow his steps and follow the map of this land that had been laid out inside his mind for decades.

  “If you acted like a normal human being, none of this would have happened,” he continued. Yelling at her wasn’t at all how he wanted to do this, but his heart was thrumming too hard for anything else. “Of course there are bees around here. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. You’re in the goddamned wilderness, for crying out loud.”

  This time, he heard a low whimper in the distance. He latched on to that sound like it was a lifeline—a rope he could follow through a blizzard to make it home.

  “If you’re going to stay out here for the rest of your life, you’re investing in steel-toed boots and a backpack full of supplies,” he said. “Or one of those buttons you can push when you’re old and you fall down. I’ll buy it myself if I have to. Tie it around your neck. Wrap it around your finger and hold you close—”

  “What on earth is wrong with you?”

  Adam almost shouted his surprise at hearing Dawn’s voice from a few feet away. He subdued it just in time, which meant the sound came out more like a grunt.

  “Is it me you’re talking to, or your stupid cow? Because if she got loose again, it is not my fault. I secured her.”

  “Dawn.” It was all he could say—an exclamation and a sigh of relief, the weight of the world lifting off his shoulders. Oddly enough, the loss of that weight didn’t make him feel more stable on his feet. His knees were suddenly weak, his joints like liquid. It was as though every feeling he had was pouring out of him all at once. “Oh, thank fuck. You’re okay.”

  “Of course I’m okay. I mean, I’d be better if my silly dog would stop running off, but that’s your fault.”

  Adam had been so sure that disaster awaited him at the end of this journey—that he’d swoop in to find Dawn hurt, damaged, even dead—that he wasn’t sure what to do next. Overwhelming relief at finding her intact was there, obviously, but even stronger was the feeling that he was being given another chance. There were hundreds of ways this might have ended differently. Dawn could have been stung by a bee. She could have tripped on one of the rabbit holes that were Adam’s personal nemesis. She could have been attacked by coyotes or even decided that she’d had enough of country living and escaped this place as fast and as far as her feet would take her.

  But she was okay. She was alive. She was here.

  Despite everything, she was here.

  “My fault?” he echoed, almost laughing. Of course it was his fault. He’d done nothing but push this woman away from the outset. In all that time, it had never occurred to him that Dawn couldn’t be pushed. He’d said it so many times—she did what she wanted, when she wanted it. She never let anyone dictate her actions. She was one hundred percent herself, and it was the most beautiful thing about her.

  And she’s still here.

  “Of course it is,” Dawn replied. “Gigi only runs over to your house because you had the audacity to make her fall in love with you. What else did you expect?”

  Adam’s throat felt tight with fear and longing, with the clamping sensation of a love he’d never be able to shake. He wanted to speak, but the words were stuck. “Dawn…” he managed.

  “And what is all this nonsense about tying things around my neck? What are you accusing me of doing now? From all I can tell, I’m standing on my own land. In fact, you’re the one who’s trespassing right now.” There was a pause and a shuffle of feet. “Actually, how did you get here? I don’t see Uncle anywhere.”

  “Dawn.”

  “I know. You don’t have to say it. I’ve ruined your life, and you’d like nothing more than to see the back of me. Don’t worry. I got the hint.” She laughed, a sharp edge rendering it brittle. “I mean, I didn’t take the hint, obviously, but I got it.”

  “Dawn.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Adam, so you might as well reconcile yourself to having me as a neighbor.” There was a challenge in her voice but also kindness. Warmth. Honesty. All those things that made Adam fall for her in the first place. She was giving him the truth with no varnish on it—and leaving it entirely up to him to decide what to do.

  Because that was what you did when you respected someone. That was what you did when you loved them.

  “I won’t force myself into your company, and I’ll do my best not to heave too many lovelorn sighs when you’re near, but I like it here. I like the scenery. I like the people. I like knowing my sisters are nearby but not so close that it gets in the way of their own lives.”

  “Dawn.”

  “Would you stop saying my name like it’s a bad word?” She grunted her irritation. “I get it, Adam—you don’t want me. It’s fine. It hurts, obviously, and I wish things had ended differently between us, but I’ve never been one to howl at fate. I know you don’t believe me, but I can learn to live in a world where we’re just neighbors. I can and I will and I am.”

  The vise in his throat unclamped, and he gave in to the powerful urge to reach fo
r her. She was standing much closer than he anticipated, that tiny dress and the hot flush of her skin practically rubbing up against him. Even though he’d aimed for her arms, he hit her waist. The fabric bunched under his touch, sliding up over her body in that oh-so-familiar way.

  “Yes, but I can’t,” he said, his fingers digging desperately into her sides. “I can’t and I won’t and I’m not.”

  “You can’t what?” she asked.

  There were so many ways to answer that question. He couldn’t live in a world where they were just neighbors. He couldn’t stop thinking about her—her laugh and her touch and the simple joy of having her near. He couldn’t imagine a lifetime spent without her in his arms.

  “Do you know why I came running over here?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Zeke thought you might have been stung by a bee. A bee. I was ready to burn this whole place to the ground, to give up everything I’ve ever owned, to cast aside every cow and every piece of hay, all to murder one fucking bee.”

  “That seems a little drastic. You love this ranch.”

  His grip on her tightened to the point of desperation. He had to be hurting her, but she didn’t make a whimper of complaint. He remembered what she’d told him once—that she’d always tell him when he stepped over the line—and dared to drop a kiss to her lips.

  For once, she wasn’t expecting it. Her lips were slightly parted, as though she’d been on the verge of speech, so he took shameless advantage. Knowing this might be the last time he ever felt her mouth opening under his, he took stock of every breath, every taste, every brush of her tongue against his.

  She tasted like honey, which seemed ironic considering the panic that had driven him out here, but he leaned into it—into her—his arms holding her as though he feared to let her go.

  “I love you, Dawn Vasquez,” he murmured against her mouth. “More than this ranch. More than life itself.”

  “Oh.”