by Tawna Fenske
Vanessa gives a mock salute and keeps flipping. I try to keep my eyes on the road, on the craggy hills of red basalt in the distance or the snow-capped mountains with carpets of grassy meadow laid out like carpets at their doorstep.
But I keep catching myself glancing at Vanessa, admiring the side of her face. Her dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a red chambray shirt knotted at the waist and a black tank top beneath. She looks damn good in red. All fire and passion and—
“So, Tia’s looking to expand distribution.” She looks up and catches me staring. “Even if she won’t join the show, it’s possible she’ll sell her products directly to us.”
“That’s not ideal.” At the risk of sounding like a control-freak, I continue. “We’re trying to stay self-contained, so having an on-site farm dedicated to our needs would be the best option.”
“Where does she distribute now?”
“Mostly farmers’ markets and organic grocery stores. I just need to convince her she stands to make a lot more money with us.”
“Money’s not everything.” She says it mildly, but there’s an undercurrent of tension in her voice.
“True. But it really would be a win-win for everyone. She keeps her land but becomes our exclusive supplier for fresh meats and produce.”
“Makes sense.” From the corner of my eye, I see her rest the pages across her knees. “Well, hopefully we can persuade her.”
We’re approaching the turnoff to Tia’s ranch, so I fix my eyes on the road. Vanessa looks up from her packet as we bump onto the gravel road. “Oh! What a great barn. It looks like something on a postcard.” She bites her lip, and I wonder if she’s thinking about the other postcard. The one with her picture on it. “How long has she had this place?”
“The ranch has been in her family for generations,” I say. “Tia’s been running it alone for a few years.”
“Nice.” She points out the window at the tidy rows of plants whizzing past. “That must be potatoes. Oh, and cabbage.”
“Beats me. But yeah, I know she grows that stuff.” We’re approaching Tia’s house, but I drive on past and head for the barn. “She wanted to meet us out here. Said she’s expecting a new intake.”
“Intake?”
“She rehabilitates dogs,” I explain as I park the truck. “Injured or sick or stray. I guess she’s some kind of dog whisperer.”
“Dogs.” Vanessa’s voice goes soft and wistful, and I remember what she said about wanting one.
“You’ve never had a dog?”
She shakes her head. “My sister and I used to beg for one, but our mom said no.”
I kill the engine and pocket the keys. “What about cats? Or hamsters or bunnies or—”
“Nope, nothing.” She gives a sad little shrug. “We had this fat orange goldfish once. I won it at a carnival, and Val and I got so excited. We named him Cheeto and built this whole fairyland castle for him in an aquarium.”
The furrow between her brows makes me almost afraid to ask. “What happened to Cheeto?”
She frowns and spins the ring on her pinky finger. “Our mom said the water smelled bad. She wanted us to flush him down the toilet, but I convinced her to let me give him to the neighbor.”
“Jesus.” Her mom sounds like a piece of work. “We didn’t have a ton of pets growing up, but we did have two cats. Oh, and Lana had a hamster.”
That sparks some light in her eyes. “Names?”
“Puma Thurman and Catrick Swayze for the cats.” I grin when she busts out laughing. “Lauren and Lana fought for weeks over those names.”
“And the hamster?”
“Neil Patrick Hamster,” I tell her. “That was Lana.”
“How come Lana and Lauren got to name all the pets?” she asked. “Mari’s between them in age, right?”
Leave it to Vanessa to zero in on this family quirk. “For some reason, Lauren and Lana have always been super-close. Mari—Mari’s just been—” I fumble for the right word but can’t come up with it.
“In the middle?” Vanessa fiddles with the end of her ponytail. “I’ve heard that’s sometimes the case with middle kids. I mean, I know there are six of you, but—”
“Yeah, Mari’s a classic middle kid.” I’m not sure I really thought about this before now. “Lauren’s the oldest girl, and Lana’s the youngest kid period. Gabe and Coop and I were always just kinda there, but it was Lauren and Lana who had this special bond.”
I’ve never considered if that bugged the shit out of Mari. My brothers and I, we pissed each other off in equal measure, but I never felt like any two of us were tighter than the other two.
“You’re definitely a classic oldest child.” Vanessa’s voice brings me back to the conversation. “I’d have guessed it even if I didn’t know.”
“How do you mean?”
“Control-freak.” She grins. “I have a big brother.”
“No kidding?” I don’t remember learning that in her background check.
“He’s quite a bit older. Almost ten years, so we weren’t super-tight growing up.”
“And let me guess,” I say. “You’re older than your twin?”
“Correct.” She grins and pops open her door. “Five minutes and twenty-three seconds, thank you very much. If Val had been just two minutes later, she’d have been born after midnight and we’d have had different birthdays.”
I come around the truck to join her, and we walk together along the dust-blanketed path to the barn. “Cooper and I have birthdays only three days apart, but there’s six years separating us.”
That used to feel weird when we were kids, but our mom always made sure we got separate cakes and parties with all our friends. That we were made to feel special.
A few months after Andrea and I got engaged, she threw a huge surprise birthday party for Coop and me. Cooper had a blast and landed in the tabloids for public drunkenness. I worked late and spoiled the whole thing, promising I’d be home in an hour, then two hours, then three.
Eventually, Andrea gave up on me. Not just the party, but all of it.
I can’t say I blame her.
We’ve reached the door of the barn now, so I shake myself out of that dark place and knock on the door with Vanessa behind me. I can hear rustling inside and the bleating of sheep or goats or whatever the hell makes that noise.
Then Tia Nelson swings into the doorway wiping her hands on her jeans. Her dark hair is braided off to the side, and she smiles warmly when she sees us. “Good timing, I was just finishing up feeding.”
Vanessa steps forward, eyes saucer-wide. “What are you feeding?”
Tia laughs and sticks her hand out, and Vanessa shakes it automatically. “Chickens, cows, goats, you name it. I’m Tia. Tia Nelson.”
“Vanessa Vincent. I’d love to see your animals.”
That earns an even bigger smile from Tia, who is damn serious about every living thing on this ranch. “Come on.” She turns, dark braid swinging. “Most everyone’s outside right now, but I’ll give you a barn tour first.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Vanessa and I follow, hustling to keep up with the quick stride of Tia’s dirt-caked boots. “I just finished feeding most of the livestock,” she calls over her shoulder. “Maybe you want to help with the dogs?”
“Yes, please.” Vanessa flashes me a celebratory fist pump, and I laugh in spite of myself. “I know we’re here to talk crop yield and livestock units, but this is all part of it, right?”
“Absolutely.” Tia nudges a door with her hip, leading us past a pen filled with the tiniest goats I’ve ever seen. “Those are Nigerian Dwarf goats,” she says. “Very friendly.”
Vanessa gasps. “They’re so cute.”
“They produce a huge volume of milk for their size.” Tia stoops to scratch a tan and white goat behind the ears. “We’re making cheese next week if you’d like to come watch.”
“I’d love that.” Vanessa’s bright cheer makes it obvious
she really means it.
“Great.” Tia beams. “I love showing off the farm to folks who really have an interest.”
“Oh, I do.” Vanessa leans in and rubs a little black and white goat between its nub antlers. “You have Saanen, LaMancha, and Toggenburgs as well, right?”
Tia doesn’t mask her surprise. “You’ve done your homework.”
“Always,” Vanessa says, and it’s all I can do not to high-five her. “Sounds like there’s been a high demand lately for the Saanens.”
“It’s the high milk yield with low butterfat content.” Tia turns and keeps walking, pausing to stroke the neck of a shaggy donkey. “The health food junkies can’t get enough of it.”
She leads us down another row of stalls. This section of the barn is quieter and smells different. Straw crunches underfoot, and a cow moos somewhere in the distance. “Roughneck is down here. We’ve been slowly introducing him to people so he’s ready for adoption. You can help feed him.”
“Roughneck?” Vanessa stops walking as Tia halts in front of a pen.
“He came in as a stray a few months ago,” Tia says. “He’d been on his own a couple years with this ratty old mesh collar embedded in his neck.”
Vanessa gasps. “What? How?”
There’s a flash of fury in Tia’s eyes. “Someone put the collar on him as a pup and then abandoned him.”
“That’s awful.” Vanessa’s blinking hard, and my urge to comfort her is overwhelming. “People can be so cruel.”
“It was pretty infected by the time we got him.” Tia reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a dish that’s already filled with kibble. “I called in a favor with a vet who operated and got him fixed up.”
“Thank God.” Vanessa peers over the edge of the stall, and I step up beside her to look. A brown and black mutt—some kind of herding mix, I think—peers back at us with liquid brown eyes. The fur around his neck is missing in an odd, two-inch wide band, a bald patch that looks like a collar. He lifts one edge of his lip to show a tidy row of sharp teeth. He's not growling, and while I don’t know much about dogs, it looks more like a smile than a snarl.
“He’s not a biter, right?” I ask.
“Not unless you bite him first.” Tia unlatches the stall door. “He was pretty skittish the first couple weeks. Air-snapped anytime we got close enough to feed him or check his wounds, but he never made contact. He’s practically a teddy bear now.”
The teddy bear gives a tentative tail thump and eyes us warily. He looks from Tia to me and pauses, tail tucking slightly. Then his gaze shifts to Vanessa.
“Oh, now there’s a tail wag.” Tia laughs and surveys Vanessa. “He likes you.”
It’s true; the dog is on his feet, tail wagging fiercely as he approaches Vanessa. He comes forward and puts his paws up on the edge of the stall, sniffing the air around her.
Vanessa steps closer, holding out a hand. “Maybe I look like someone he used to know?”
“Could be. Here.” Tia hands her the food bowl. “He’s not a runner. Just ease in gently. No quick movements. Low and slow, that’s the key.”
For someone who’s never had a dog, Vanessa seems to know just what to do. She slips through the stall door, moving like her boots are dragging through honey. She’s murmuring words I can’t understand, but there’s something soothing about them.
“Hey, buddy.” She holds out her hand, and Roughneck sniffs it, then gives a gentle lick.
Vanessa laughs, and the dog jumps, then skitters back to lick her again. “It’s okay,” she soothes. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
The dog cocks his head, and I swear to God he understands her. Tail wagging again, he sets to work giving her arm a thorough tongue bath. Vanessa laughs and scratches behind his ear with her other hand.
“How did you rehab him?” Vanessa asks. “He’s so tame for a dog who ran wild for years.”
“Reading was a big part of it,” Tia says.
“Reading?” I stare at Tia, pretty sure I’ve heard wrong. “What, like books?”
“Yep.” Tia smiles. “I sat in his pen for hours, day after day, reading pages of whatever books I had on hand. Eventually, he got used to my voice. Then he got used to the idea that people weren’t evil and might not hurt him. Also, that we had food.”
Vanessa’s stroking the dog’s head, laughing when he licks her face. “So you’re a literary buff, eh boy?”
The smile on Tia’s face isn’t one I’ve seen before. Usually she’s glaring and crossing her arms over her chest, insisting there’s no way in hell she’ll partner with us. “You’re a natural,” Tia says to Vanessa. “You must be a dog person.”
“I always wanted to be.” Vanessa sets the bowl in the straw, then smooths her palm down the dog’s smooth back. “This guy is a sweetheart.”
Tia leans on the edge of the stall door. “He’s never been like this with anyone else.”
“I’m not surprised,” I tell her. There’s a gentle energy to Vanessa, a presence that leaves me feeling like I’ve known her forever. Roughneck’s no dummy. He must sense it, too.
“There you go,” Vanessa coos as the dog starts to eat. “That’s a good boy. Yummy stuff, huh?”
Roughneck wags his stump of a tail but doesn’t lift his snout from the bowl. I’m not even sure he’s chewing. He’s just inhaling the kibble, hoovering it up until the stainless-steel surface is bare. Licking the last few crumbs, he pops his head up and grins. I swear to God, that’s what it looks like.
“Good boy.” Vanessa sits down in the straw and uses both hands to scratch behind his ears.
The dog gives a groan of pleasure and heaves himself into her lap. He must weigh eighty pounds, and Vanessa topples laughing onto her back as Roughneck licks her face.
Tia turns and looks at me. “Looks like maybe you two are going home with a dog.”
“What?” I glance at Vanessa, who’s too busy soaking up dog kisses to realize Tia assumes we’re a couple. “Oh, we’re not—”
“I love this guy!” Vanessa sits up, still laughing as she pulls bits of straw from her hair. “Is this what they mean by love at first sight?”
My breath snags in my throat as I stand there on the outside of the stall, watching Vanessa light up the whole barn. “Yeah,” I murmur. “Could be.”
Chapter 8
CONFESSIONAL 263.5
Vincent, Vanessa (CFO: Juniper Ridge)
I really didn’t. Want to be in show-biz, I mean. Doing Baby Spies was fun when I was a kid, but mostly because they gave me candy and let me play video games between takes. But having a career in Hollywood? [makes a face] No thanks. My mom wanted me to. Both of us, my sister and me, but…I don’t know, it seemed like she pushed me harder. We had this screaming match about it. I must have been sixteen, seventeen. She starts yelling about how I didn’t have any idea how to run my life. That the best thing I could do was find a man to keep me in line. I know, right? Crazy thing to say to your own daughter.
I don’t know, I guess I set out to prove her wrong.
Sometimes, I’m not sure I’ve done that.
“I adopted a dog.”
I blurt the words before my sister manages “hello.” That’s how excited I am to tell her.
“Oh my God, a dog? What kind? How old? Does it have a name yet? Tell me everything!”
See? This is why I called Val the instant I got Roughneck settled at my cabin.
My cabin. My dog. My life.
All of this sounds nuts, but I’m giddy it’s my new reality. “The lady who rescued him estimates he’s about four,” I tell her. “She thinks he’s maybe McNab and Bernese mountain dog.”
“I’ve never heard of either of those things. Hang on, let me Google.”
I hear her fingers tapping the keys of her laptop, and I picture her curled up on the sofa in her little Parisian sublet. It’s six in the morning there, but my sister has always been an early riser. The feeling of missing my twin nearly takes me out at the knees, and I breathe de
ep to keep from crying. Dean’s lucky to get to work with his siblings every day.
Thinking of Dean has the edges of my smile quirking up. On the way back from Sun Daisy Ranch, he let Roughneck ride right up front, perched between us on the bench seat of Dean’s truck. He drove us straight into town to grab supplies, shaking his head in disbelief as he followed me through the pet store.
“I can’t believe Tia’s really considering it,” he said as I loaded the cart with dog bowls and kibble. “For months she’s said there’s no way in hell she’d be part of the show.”
“She’s still a long way from signing on.” Truth be told, I don’t hold much hope she’ll partner with us. She’s got a good thing going and doesn’t need us one bit. I envy her in a way.
“Still, you made good progress. Better than I’ve been able to do.”
The surprise in his voice made me look up from the soft-bristled brush I’d been holding. Dean grabbed it, then scooped up the red plaid dog bed I’d put back because it was too expensive. “Let me get this stuff, okay?”
“What? No, you’re not buying my dog gear.”
“Please.” He slipped out his wallet and extracted one of those metallic black credit cards my mother always covets. “It’s the least I can do. Besides, we’ll definitely want your dog to be part of the show.”
I decided not to argue. Now, talking to my sister, I still can’t believe this is real. “He’s amazing.”
My sister laughs. “The dog or Dean?”
“Very funny.” Also, not wrong. “He really is the best dog.”
Sensing he’s the center of conversation, Roughneck perks his ears from his dog bed in the corner. Stub tail thumping, he picks up the purple stuffed tiger we bought him at the pet store. He chewed the tail to a two-inch nub about an hour ago, breaking it in just how he wanted it. Clutching the toy in his mouth, he rolls to his side and heaves a sigh.
“I’ll rub your belly in a minute,” I assure him.
“Thanks, I could use a good belly rub,” my sister quips. “Holy cow, these are big dogs.”
“Which ones?”
“The Bernese things. They look like bears.”