A New Leash on Love

by Debbie Burns

  “I did, didn’t I? I believe I was clearer headed then.” He finished scanning the barn and pointed to the hayloft that stretched over the back half. Before she knew it, he was scaling the built-in ladder leading to it. Then he disappeared over the top.

  It was quiet for a full minute before his voice trailed down from above. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t mean—” She stopped short. From the direction of the house, a door slammed and a dog barked.

  Craig appeared at the edge, searching out the loft window. “You aren’t going to like this, but the farmer seems to be headed this way. And a dog, but it looks pretty benign. If Sledge were here, he could take it easily if he needed to. Though after seeing that encounter with those ponies, maybe not. So do you want me to come down there and talk to him, or do you want to climb up here and wait it out?”

  Without processing it, she was scurrying up the ladder. She was breathless and shaking when she reached the top. Craig took her hand and pulled her over the ledge. She rolled over on the straw-littered wooden floor and bit her lip, tense.

  “Let’s move back farther in case he needs hay.” Craig led her around the towering stacks of bales.

  “I’m not meant for a life of crime. My whole body’s shaking,” she whispered.

  He pulled two bales down from one of the lower stacks, creating seats out of sight from the main loft. Down below, the goats bleated and the dog let out a single yip.

  She sank down and locked her shaky knees together. The farmer was inside. She heard him sniffling. Craig scooped up her hands and pressed his lips against one palm, then the other. “Look at the bright side,” he whispered. “It’ll be something amusing we can tell the baby one day.”

  Megan’s heart slammed against her rib cage. Craig had said one day and we and baby in the same sentence.

  For the full two hours of the tour, their focus had been on her life when she was a kid and a teenager. Their relationship and her pregnancy felt like a conversation being saved for another time, another day. And earlier, at breakfast, he asked her a few simple things like if she’d been feeling sick, how many weeks she was, and if she was sleeping okay. They’d talked about Sophie and how she was feeling after the party and brushed the surface of how Jillian was taking things. But nothing deeper. He was so exhausted that she didn’t think he had it in him.

  But now, this comment was different. It referred to staying power. Like there was no question as to whether or not they had it.

  He shifted on his bale and pulled her in to his chest. His arms wrapped around her, and his lips pressed into her hair. He whispered in her ear. “I could pick your smell out of a thousand other people. Blindfolded.”

  A playful reply about pond water and the hint of bleach that never seemed to leave her fingers was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it back. It was a defensive trick her mother had pointed out, the way she used humor to keep people at bay. Instead she brushed her lips against his.

  It was a soft, quiet kiss that carried on along with the bleating of the goats and clanking of metal down below. He placed the palm of one hand flat against her stomach. Over the baby. She was reminded of the small things she’d seen over the months between him and Sophie and Reese. Little things that added up to make him a phenomenal father.

  A rush swept over her. It was like standing at the top of Niagara Falls. If she let herself, if she took a leap and trusted, she could be swallowed up by all he could be to her. By all they could be together.

  If she trusted herself to do it.

  On the main floor of the barn there was an abrupt slam. Seconds later, the tractor revved to life, filling the barn with the sound of its loud engine.

  Craig dropped his embrace and wrapped one hand around hers. “I know this caused you a scare. I’m sorry.” She could barely hear him over the tractor. “Let’s give him a minute to get out of sight, and we’ll get out of here.”

  She shook her head and stood up, positioning herself directly in front of him as the tractor chugged out of the barn. “I think another ten minutes will be fine.”

  She was wearing a button-down shirt, half-open, and a cami. She slipped them off and tossed them onto the empty bale, but left her bra in place. She wanted his attention another moment. She had things she wanted to say. If she could gather the nerve.

  Instead of talking, she took an easier route. She kicked off her sandals and tugged down her jeans a bit less gracefully than she’d have liked, then climbed onto his lap. He was quiet, eyeing her but not moving.

  Doubt crept in. If it wasn’t for the growing bulge in his already tight pants, she’d probably duck and run. Finding herself drawn in by the proximity she’d been missing, she ran her lips over his neck and nipped at his chin.

  He pulled back abruptly and closed his hands over her temples. “Are you doing this because you think I want you to or because you want to? Because it was crazy of me to expect it. Here. Now. We absolutely don’t have to.”

  This was it. Time to call a spade a spade. Her throat went dry, and her fingers shook. Vulnerability didn’t have to be a weakness, her mom had said. It could be one step in a remarkable journey.

  She swallowed hard. “This is me letting you in. I love you. More than I knew was possible. And we’re going to have a baby while we still have so much to work out. And that scares the hell out of me. And I’m sure you too. But whatever happens in a world of tomorrows, none of that can make me love you any less today.” She pressed her lips together. She wanted him to interrupt, to say something. Anything. But he was staring at her with a look that was just a touch incredulous.

  “So,” she continued, “in answer to your question, yes. I just stripped out of my clothes because I want to, not because I feel I have to.”

  His answering kiss was desperate. He kept one hand in her hair and locked the other behind her back, drawing her against him. When he’d kissed her so long that she was breathless, he pulled away and brushed his lips over her forehead, cheek, and temple.

  His lips brushed against her ear when he spoke. “Megan Anderson, in that world of tomorrows, I’m going to make damn sure I don’t do anything to make you love me any less than you do today.”

  Chapter 27

  Five weeks, two days, and twenty-six extraordinary dates later, Craig parked his car in front of the shelter. He paused to admire the new sign that had gone up last week. It made him proud that his favorite graphic artist at his company had come up with the new logo and everyone at the shelter had loved it. The words High Grove Animal Shelter were in purple, and the profiles of a dog and cat were adjacent to them in green.

  The trim around the front windows had been painted purple to match, giving the brick building a splash of brightness and color. Purple and green pots filled with bright flowers welcomed visitors on either side of the entryway.

  Next up, the inside was going to get a facelift. The last of the revisions were underway. The plan called for the walls and ceilings to get fresh coats of paint. The dated counters and most of the office furniture would be replaced as well. The biggest changes would be in the kennels. Several runs were being expanded for the larger dogs, and the smaller ones were going to get ramps and raised beds. Automatic water bowls were being installed. And last but not least, the back half of the empty lot behind the building was being fenced into a private dog park with agility equipment that had Sophie bubbling over with excitement to see in use.

  He headed inside and found Megan was on the phone in her office. He knew right away that something was upsetting her. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was clenching her jaw between sentences.

  He forced down the urge to butt in and see if he could help. She was more than capable of fighting her own battles. He sank to the top of her desk as she disputed a cost increase with the shelter’s dog chow supplier. Trina hopped down from the top filing cabinet and crawled onto h
is lap, purring so loudly that he could feel the vibrations traveling from her three paws to his thighs. He scratched her chin and waited.

  After a few minutes of bargaining, Megan’s shoulders and jaw relaxed. She reached for a pen and scratched six hundred dollars off the invoice in front of her.

  When she hung up, she rose from her chair and met him halfway for a kiss. She didn’t look out the door first any longer. A few weeks ago, she’d told the staff they were dating.

  “What are you doing here?” She paused for another kiss. “I thought you had a busy day.”

  “Never too busy for some time with you. And congratulations on that successful bargaining.” He dropped his voice to a whisper, sweeping a lose strand of hair behind her ear. “Though I’m not sure the stress you’re under is good for the baby.”

  Megan’s pregnancy was still something she hadn’t revealed. She intended to give it another month, then tell everyone.

  She sank back to her chair, slid it directly in front of him, and closed her hands around his calves. “I’m working on it. Promise. So what’s up? Because I can tell something is.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and did his best to feign innocence. She could see right through him. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because if you were a cat like Trina, I’d put money down that you just ate a mouse.” She sat back and tapped him on the knee. “And you just left my house a few hours ago. You didn’t say anything about coming by today.”

  “I was in the area and thought I’d stop by.”

  “Um, nope, something’s up. I can tell. Did you land a big new client or something?”

  “No, not even close.” He laughed. “I’m just in a good mood.”

  She leaned forward to rest her arms atop his thighs after Trina hopped to the floor and headed out into the main room. “Nope. Something’s up. You’ve got guilty written all over you.”

  “I think your changing hormones are causing you to imagine things. It’s a fabulous summer day, and I’m dating an incredible woman. I’m happy. That’s all.”

  “Fine then, don’t tell me. Do you have time at least to take me to an early lunch? I’m starving.”

  He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I’d love to.”

  To Craig’s amusement, she flushed bright pink as Kelsey stuck her head around the frame of her door and found them seated so intimately. Kelsey returned it with a deep flush of her own. “Hey, guys. Wes’s on line one for you, Megan.” She ducked out before Megan thanked her.

  Megan reached over Craig to pick up the phone. Seeing that he was close to blowing it, he reached for his cell and scrolled through his email while she took the call. Her brows furrowed into tight peaks as she listened to Wes.

  “You aren’t kidding, are you?” She rolled her chair backward and sat up straight. “Whenever I take Bernie’s calls, you read me the riot act and warn me about insurance and whatnot. You tell me that bit about how people bring animals to us, not the other way around.”

  She was silent a few minutes as she listened. Begrudgingly, she consented and took down an address. When she hung up, she groaned.

  “What’s Wes got you up to?” Craig slipped his phone into his pocket, wishing he’d taken a drama class in college as he attempted to plaster on a look of mock concern.

  “Animal control, it seems. He wants me to go to someone’s house—some divorcing woman his son met online—and pick up her surrender. It’s here in Webster though, and I know the street. It’s just a few blocks from my place.”

  “Why doesn’t he do it himself?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, Wes hardly does anything himself anymore.” She stood up and tucked the address into her pocket. “Think I can have a rain check on lunch?”

  “Not a chance.” Craig stood up from the desk. “If you’re getting pulled into an Internet dating-ring dog-custody battle, I’m going to be there to back you up.”

  “Ha. Let me grab a crate. Who knows what shape the dog will be in. And I’ll drive. We can’t stink up your BMW.”

  Kelsey passed by as they stepped out of her office. “There are two crates up front still. They’re new. Someone donated them earlier.”

  “That was easy,” Craig said. He hadn’t thought about her heading into the kennels for a crate and how that would have given her the opportunity to realize what was missing back there. Who was missing. “Want the bigger one? I’ll toss it in back.”

  “Sure,” she said, swiping a leash off a hook before heading outside.

  “Nice day.” He popped the crate into the trunk and settled into the passenger seat. She flipped the ignition and offered him a smile that made him feel as if he’d made it home.

  After a few minutes, she turned down the street matching the address she’d been given. She frowned as she scoped the historic homes, stately yards, and tree-lined streets.

  He knew what she was thinking but asked anyway. “What’s the matter?”

  “You’ve walked this street with me before, remember? It has most of my favorite houses in Webster.” She pulled to a stop in front of the one matching the address Wes had given her and clicked her tongue. “This was one of my favorites. How sad. I guess someday I’ll stop assuming some people should be immune to such things as not being responsible for their pets.”

  “It’s a shame. Where’s the dog? Around back?”

  “No, Wes said it was inside but that no one’s home and there’d be a key under the mat.”

  Craig attempted his best I’m skeptical face and stepped to the curb. “Make sure you knock, at least. This whole thing is bizarre.”

  They headed up the stone path that led to the spacious colonial brick two-story.

  As Wes promised, the key was under the mat. Craig knew it would be since he’d put it there himself. After getting no response to knocking, Megan slipped the key in the lock. Craig busied himself looking in a window where a small gray spider had taken up residence on the brick rim.

  She swung open the door tentatively. “Wes was right. It’s empty.”

  He walked in behind her and watched her scan the room. The house was clean and barren but inviting. Light poured in through tall windows, highlighting rich hardwood floors and a stunning old mantel around the fireplace.

  There was no dog in sight. Craig had expected that too, since he’d shut him in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The one the old owners had used as a nursery and seemed the most fitting for the occasion.

  Megan frowned. “I wonder where it is.”

  As soon as she spoke, a baritone woof resounded from the top floor.

  He did his best to feign innocence a minute or two longer. “I’ve got money down on upstairs. How about you?”

  She headed for the wide staircase, and he followed. She stopped in her tracks when she spotted the rose petals strewn every few steps. “This is weird.” She turned to him as if in confirmation. “Don’t you—” Her lips parted, and suspicion lit her features. “This is you, isn’t it?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and fiddled with the dog treats hidden in them. “What is me?”

  He watched her reconsidering her thoughts. It was a big assumption, connecting him with this big, empty home and the petals strewn up the steps.

  “If for some reason you’re behind this, I’ll…”

  He felt the half smile breaking out despite his best attempt at restraint. “You’ll what?”

  Her jaw tightened, then relaxed. “You’re not funny. You’re hardly ever funny when you think you are.”

  “Right now, I’m feeling perfectly serious. What do you make of that?”

  “Craig. Please. Can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

  He pulled her in for a quick kiss and smoothed his thumb across her cheek. “Can’t you follow the trail?”

  Begrudgingly, she broke into a smile as another woof resounded
through the upper floor. “Okay, I can do that.”

  He took up the rear, following her up the stairs. He watched her hand trailing along the curved banister. The house fit her perfectly. He’d known it would.

  At the top, the trail of petals continued down the hall to a closed door where a whining dog waited.

  “Do I open it?”

  “If you’d like.”

  She swung it open, and Sledge bounded out, his purple-pink tongue lolling and tail wagging.

  “Sledge.” She spent a second or two taking everything in. Sledge bounding around her. Him not able to suppress a chuckle. The lone table in the center of an empty but picturesque nursery.

  The walls were a soft, creamy yellow. A thick chair rail and white bead board covered the lower half. At the back of the room, a bay window seat flanked by white curtains overlooked the backyard.

  When she didn’t move past the doorway, he guided her to the table in the center.

  Rather than looking at the jewelry box centered on top, he whistled softly to Sledge. The excited dog lurched to the side of the table as they’d practiced and sat at attention.

  Craig slid the ribbon off the table and into Sledge’s view. It was attached to a spring trap that would pop open the box when tugged hard enough. Perhaps this part was a bit overkill, but when he’d planned it out with Sophie, she’d insisted Sledge have an actual part rather than be an innocent bystander.

  As he’d done with Sophie dozens of times in practice, Sledge carefully mouthed the ribbon and backed up. On the second tug, the lid popped open. The box was secured to the table or it would have been yanked off, something they’d realized early on in practice.

  “Good boy.” Craig surrendered all his treats at once.

  Megan shook her head, wiping tears from her face. “I wouldn’t have believed any of this if you told me.” She reached out with shaky fingers to pick up the lone ring inside. It was pewter, imperfectly round, and had a blue agate stone welded into the center.

  “If you don’t want me to get the wrong impression, I think you need to say something.” She returned it to the box and pressed her hands against her temples.