Christmas Inn Love

by Collins, Kelly

“Morning.” He lowered his eyes to take in the big dog tethered by a leash wrapped around the old man’s gnarled hands. He wasn’t an expert on animals but thought this might be a golden retriever.

  Rob was about to let the fellow in, but he wasn’t familiar with the animal.

  “Can I help you?” He looked between the dog and the man.

  “I’m Dave Swanson, a friend of your mother’s. I’m sorry for your loss.” He bowed his head, but his gravelly voice split the air. “I wrote you about taking care of her dog.” He looked at the beast who danced beside him and let out a stern, “Sit.” The pup obediently sat and leaned against Dave’s leg. “She only had the fella for the last half a year before she passed, and I’ve had him ever since.” He ruffled the dog’s fur. “Lucky is a good pup.”

  “Glad to hear it, and you’re here why?” He had to admit the dog drew him in. He had a sweet face and appeared obedient.

  “You said you would take the dog once you were in town.” He looked beyond him to the interior of the house.

  “I did?” He had no recollection of speaking to the man.

  “Your secretary or somebody at your office said you’d be happy to take him since he belonged to your mom. She sent me all the information so I could find you.” He stepped back and looked at the house. “I got the right address. The construction was finished, so I thought I’d see if you were here. Lucky me.” He looked down at the dog. “Or lucky Lucky.”

  Rob laughed. If he hadn’t moved his operation to his new home, he would let his secretary go all over again. Something told him his lack of information was Pam’s retribution.

  There was something likable about the man and the dog, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell him no as much as he wanted to.

  “Won’t you come in, Mr. Swanson?” He stepped aside to give them room. “What’s the dog’s name again?”

  “Lucky,” said Dave. “And so far, he has been.”

  “So it seems.” Rob looked around his house. It wasn’t built for active animals with its wood floors and light carpet. “Unfortunately, my secretary did not pass on the message to me, and I’m not set up for a dog.”

  “He’s no problem. Short of a few temporary lapses of judgment, times where his puppy brain takes over, Lucky is well-trained. Keep him close,” he said. “He’s socialized and used to going into town. You can buy everything from dog food to chews at Pinetop Grocer. They don’t mind if he comes in the store. Everyone there knows him.” He looked at the leash in his hand. “If you drive to the new shopping center outside of town, that’s a different story. They’re not so animal friendly.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Swanson,” he said. “I guess we’ll figure it out.”

  “It’s Dave.”

  “My name is Rob.” He offered his hand to shake. “Is there something else? Can I offer you a drink?”

  Dave shuffled his feet and looked at the ground. “Your assistant said you would gladly reimburse me for caring for him.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and thrust it forward. “This is what I’ve paid to keep him happy since your mom’s passing.”

  “No problem.” Rob skimmed the numbers until he got to the bottom line, which was less than he paid for a nice dinner in the city.

  “I’m on a fixed income or I wouldn’t ask. I moved in next to your mom when my mother passed on a few years ago. The place needed a lot of work and I’ve put my last dime in nails and paint.”

  That explained his well-worn clothes. “You’re Roberta’s son?”

  “Yes, sir. Didn’t grow up here like you did, but I fell in love with Pinetop the first time I visited.”

  Rob had never been enamored with the town. A person would miss it if they blinked their eye at the right time.

  “Will a check do?”

  “Yeah, a check is fine.”

  He didn’t mind that his assistant had spoken on his behalf. Dave was kind to keep his mother’s dog. He walked over to his desk and pulled out his checkbook. His pen sailed across the paper and he ripped off the check, which included a sizable bonus.

  “There you go,” he said. “Thanks for taking care of him.”

  Dave handed him the leash and Lucky happily walked to his new owner.

  Rob wasn’t ready to be responsible for anyone or anything. He’d just come to terms with losing his mother out of the blue. She hadn’t been sick. According to everyone, Fiona McKenna had been healthy until that night she laid her head on the pillow and didn’t wake up. He always thought she’d outlive him because she was too ornery to die. Even now, her voice lived in his head, and it told him he better take care of her friend Dave.

  He looked at the older man in front of him. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

  “I drove.”

  “Let me walk you out.” He glanced at the dog who looked up at him like he hung the moon. “It looks like Lucky and I have some shopping to do.”

  He should have considered his mom had a pet. She’d gone through a few since he’d left town. They acted as substitute children who didn’t talk back.

  Rob hit the garage door opener on their way out and revealed his two-seater Jaguar. Both men stood blinking at the sports car as the dilemma became obvious. It wasn’t designed for animal transport.

  “On second thought”—Rob pulled out his phone—“I’ll see if the store will deliver.”

  Dave let go of a belly laugh. “Good luck with that,” he said as he climbed into his truck.

  Maybe I should pick up a truck while I’m in town.

  He led the dog back into the house and searched the internet for the telephone number of Pinetop Grocer. It took some doing, but he eventually persuaded the manager with the help of a hundred-dollar delivery fee to let a stock boy bring out an order. Until then, they’d wait.

  Seeing Lucky sit at the back door looking like he needed to go out compelled him to open the French doors. The problem was he had no fence. The dog tore out the back like he’d been shot from a pistol.

  Rob burst across the threshold after him, shouting his name as though it would get the desired result, and Lucky would return.

  He was frantic, hoping the dog would head back to the house. Rob didn’t know what he’d do if he ran into the thick brush beyond.

  A young man leaned against a beat-up Ford pickup parked in his drive. The kid took in the scene in front of him. Tall and lanky, his thick hair fell across his eyes. With a clap of his hands and a whistle, Lucky switched direction and headed straight to him.

  “Hey, boy. How are you doing?”

  Lucky’s entire back end wagged.

  Rob halted in his tracks, knowing a teenager and a dog had outsmarted him.

  “Pinetop Grocer?” asked Rob.

  “Yep. I set your order on the porch.”

  Rob checked the boy’s name tag. Jackson.

  The only other Jackson he knew in Pinetop was Jackson Westbrook, who’d once held him by his ankles over a garbage can full of grass clippings. He saw no resemblance between this Jackson and that one, except for the height. But when the kid lifted his head and swept the hair out of his eyes, the face was recognizable. Celia.

  “This is a random question, but is your mother Celia Roberts, by any chance?”

  “Yes,” Jackson replied casually.

  “You’re Jackson Westbrook?”

  The boy looked at him like he was from the moon.

  “No,” he replied in a pensive tone. “I’m Jackson Roberts.”

  The dog rubbed against Jackson’s hand as if begging for attention. The two of them appeared to hit it off.

  “I’m an old friend of your mother’s, and I recently moved back into town. You have your mother’s eyes.” Rob pulled out a hundred dollars from his wallet and offered it to him. “Thanks for making the delivery.”

  “Oh, no,” Jackson said. “Mr. Starr from the store said you paid by credit card.”

  “This is for you.” Rob saw immediately that Jackson had two things he needed. He drove a truck, and
he was good with the dog. The healthy tip might benefit him in the long run. “What do they pay you at the grocery store?”

  He stared at the Benjamin Franklin. “I make twelve an hour.” Jackson shoved his hands into his pockets like he didn’t trust himself to not grab the large bill.

  “I inherited this dog from my mother—” he began.

  “Lucky,” Jackson said. “I know. I knew your mother. Lucky was always at the store with her.”

  “I’ve been told.” Rob wasn’t allowed to have a pet as a child. Was it fate’s cruel joke to give him one now when he wasn’t prepared?

  “She brought him everywhere with her. Same as the last dog she had. That’s how I remember her. She always had a dog with her,” he said, fluffing Lucky’s thick fur.

  Rob had a good mind just to give the boy the dog.

  “I don’t suppose your mother would let you have him, would she? I mean since you’re so good with him and all.”

  Jackson shook his head and laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  Sending him home with Lucky would be a mean joke to play on Celia. No doubt he owed her something for all those years she’d stood by and watched the torture.

  “In that case, I need some help. Do you think you or someone you know could come by and walk him until I get a fence put up? I’ll pay twenty-five bucks a walk.”

  Jackson blinked with disbelief. “That’s way too much to walk a dog.”

  Rob had no idea what the going rate was, but in his experience overpaying always brought out volunteers. “I figure you’d have to drive out here, so that’s gas and wear and tear on your truck. Then there’s your time. I was thinking every other day, either morning or afternoon would work, and I’ll cover the rest. It would be somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred a week?”

  “Are you rich, mister?”

  “I’m comfortable,” he answered. “Think it over and let me know.” He reached for Lucky’s collar. “Thanks for bringing him back. I would have never caught him myself.”

  Jackson left and Rob took Lucky into the house. They passed the stack of pet supplies on his porch. Lucky looked up at him and seemed to smile.

  “You’re a troublemaker. Now I have to find a contractor to put up a fence.” He put the dog in a guest room with a rawhide chew and left for the town hall and the permits department to find out what the rules were about erecting an enclosure for the dog. He also needed to get the ball rolling on developing the land.

  He was almost to town when his phone rang. He didn’t pay attention to the number or the name. He just answered.

  “Rob McKenna.”

  “Celia Roberts,” she replied.

  He didn’t think he’d hear from her again and couldn’t say it made him unhappy.

  “Ah, Mrs. Westbrook, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “It’s Roberts.” Her voice was laced with displeasure. “You offered my son twenty-five bucks to walk a dog?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I inherited my mother’s dog, and I’m not good with him. Your son apparently has the knack.”

  “My son already has a job.” Her voice rose to levels that could cause hearing impairment.

  “Okay.” Something about thinking of her as a mother touched him. “I thought I was offering him an opportunity since I need help with the dog. Your son seemed to make Lucky happy, and vice versa. I respect your decision. I won’t ask again.”

  “Wait—” she said. “He can do it as long as he keeps his grades up. If he wants to do it, I don’t care. What exactly do you expect from him for twenty-five dollars?”

  “I’m not asking for a kidney. Only to walk the furry beast a couple times a week. I’ll walk him as well, but there will be days I can’t. I’ll only need him until I get a fence.”

  “Where is your house?” she asked. “It’s not on my end of your property.”

  “No,” he said. “The approach is from the other side. I get amazing sun most of the day.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You built a Victorian knock-off.”

  Rob laughed softly. “I’m surprised there wasn’t talk around town about the new house being built.”

  “The town is focused on other things, Mr. McKenna.”

  “What would those be?”

  Something about her captivated him. He would have to remind her to stop calling him Mr. McKenna, but in truth, he liked the way it rolled off her tongue.

  “Just the usual small-town stuff.” Her tone was the type that came with an eye roll. “Nothing you’d be interested in. Since we’ll be in the middle of your urban sprawl soon, this year will have to count.”

  “Why is that?” His project wouldn’t hurt Pinetop. It would enhance the tiny town, bring infrastructure and innovation to a town that hadn’t matured since the early nineteen hundreds.

  “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Help me understand.”

  She let out a breath that sounded half sigh and half growl. “We have two huge events at the end of the year. I mean, we have them throughout the year, but these are dear to my heart. There’s the harvest festival and then we have our Christmas Parade. They’re a big deal.”

  “I vaguely remember those growing up. I never could figure it out—”

  “Couldn’t figure out what?”

  “Maybe you can tell me what the town harvests to celebrate?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t understand. I had this gut instinct it would be a mistake to share it with you, and I was right.” The words came out like a slap of a ruler to his knuckles.

  “No, no,” he apologized. “I was teasing. It’s a valid question but I—”

  “Didn’t mean to make fun? Yes, you did. I heard it in your voice. You feel superior. You’ll shape up this area so it’s worth something to you and you alone. I won’t take back my approval of Jackson walking your dog as long as it makes him happy, but I’ll warn him not to look up to you. He’s vulnerable, and you’re the kind of man he’d admire. If you hurt him or let him down, you’ll answer to me.” And with that, Celia ended the call.

  Her words bothered him. It wasn’t what she said, as much as what she didn’t say. She gave him the distinct impression that Jackson had no father figure to speak of, which meant she was alone. Curiosity consumed him. What had happened to his onetime nemesis, Jackson Westbrook, Sr.? He called her right back. The old Rob might have asked her flat out, but something held him back.

  “Don’t hang up,” he blurted. “I apologize for hiring your son without your permission, and I’m sorry for casting a shadow on your holiday celebration.” He was quiet, expecting she’d say something, but she didn’t. “I hope we can talk about what my plans are. Would you like to come to my makeshift office and go over them? You and Jackson can both visit if you like. We’ll have dinner—”

  “Dinner at your office?” she asked.

  “It’s a home office.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Okay then. Let’s move on. I can count on Jackson tomorrow to walk the dog or is that a no too?”

  “I already said it was fine.”

  “Then we have nothing else to talk about. That’s a shame because I think I could enjoy talking to you.” He hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud, but it was too late.

  “Goodbye, Mr. McKenna.”

  He parked his car and walked into the town hall building. While there, he checked out the death index on a hunch. He entered the name Jackson Westbrook, and nothing popped up. That was good, he thought. Jackson Sr. hadn’t passed away, at least not locally.

  He searched for the answer to his question. What had happened between them? He pulled up the court records online which were open to the public and entered Jackson’s name. He got a hit. They’d divorced a decade ago. Rob opened the file. The grounds for the dissolution of marriage was abandonment. His heart twisted. The Jackson he knew was a guy who had everything in the world, including a beautiful family, and he’d chucked it away. That didn’t sit well with him. Who in their
right mind would toss Celia and Jackson Jr. aside?

  After he finished playing amateur sleuth, he picked up the forms and documents he needed and introduced himself to the various key players in the permits department. He always had the ability to charm a crowd. He believed in the old adage about catching more flies with honey than vinegar.

  Back in the car, he tossed the forms onto the passenger seat. His mind was not on business. After learning what he had, his head was full of thoughts about Celia, her son, and the drama he imagined they’d gone through. How bad had it been?

  Chapter Three

  Celia

  Celia ended her call with Rob. Her face was hot, and her heart beat so hard she could feel it outside her chest. When Jackson announced he’d be paid all that money to walk a dog, she felt like a leaf spinning in the wind.

  For so long, she had been in complete control. It was a thing she strived for, especially after her son was born and it was clear his father had major issues.

  She needed to maintain stability for herself and Jackson and having someone breeze into town and take an interest in him rocked her boat. Her son needed male role models, but she wasn’t certain Rob was the right man for that job. Then again, she wasn’t sure he wasn’t. Outside of the threat of taking her livelihood away, she had no qualms with the man.

  Trust wasn’t something she gave easily, but there was something about the sound of Rob’s voice that she liked. It was crazy because he frustrated her as much as fascinated her. The boy had turned into a man. A successful, sexy man.

  She shook those thoughts from her mind. His presence was no good for her. He had the ability to fracture an internal wall she had carefully constructed. It was a protective mechanism that let her be cheerful and interested on the outside but keep her vulnerability neatly in check.

  That deep rumbling voice of his shook her foundation to its core. If he stayed in Pinetop too long, things could get dangerous. She had to remind herself about her priorities and her loneliness wasn’t one of them.

  Her mental gratitude list rose in her mind and she counted her blessings. Her son was healthy and strong and everything a young man his age ought to be. The inn made all its bills for the month, so she could breathe easily enough to relax and campaign for more business. While late spring was her best season because people liked to come out to the Old West, she would pitch holiday retreats, nonetheless.