Once Upon a Rescue Page 2

  “I know. Not your fault. I’ll figure something out,” Brooke repeated. If she said it a third time, it would come true, right?

  “Good luck. Bye, Hayden.”

  He lifted a hand in a wave.

  As Shelli scooted out the door, Brooke grabbed a bottle of aspirin from her desk drawer and dumped three into her palm. Hayden—well-used to food delivery—hauled both bags of food into the storage room. “I’ve got a couple more in the truck.”

  “More? Really?”

  He flashed a grin that almost made her forget about the headache. “Somebody might have noticed you were running way low on food last time he was here and gotten careless with a box cutter when opening the last shipment.”

  Big, sweet, softie of a man. “You are my hero.”

  “I aim to please.” He was out the door again in another blast of cold.

  She needed it. Over the past several months, as he’d made his regular deliveries and taken the time to volunteer with the animals, Brooke had been tempted more than once to break her ban on men. Hayden Garrow was handsome, sweet, and loved dogs as much as she did. Maybe she’d have lifted her moratorium if he’d actually asked her out. But he hadn’t said a word, just continued to be the human equivalent of a Labrador retriever—loyal and friendly.

  The door opened again and Hayden reappeared with two more bags. “I’m gonna go ahead and tell you that your little compact car isn’t gonna work on these icy roads. Can I give you a lift home after you get the dogs settled?”

  Swallowing back the aspirin with the last of a Coke, she offered Hayden a wan smile. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m waiting on one more person to come pick up some dogs, and I’m still wracking my brain trying to come up with who else owes me a favor that I can blackmail into taking some.” Her gaze sharpened on him. “Can I talk you into taking one or two of them to foster until the storm passes?”

  “What about the rest of them? It’s sure as hell too cold for them to stay in the outside kennels.”

  She liked that he jumped to the same conclusion she had. All too few people were thinking about homeless animals during weather like this. “I don’t know.” It was galling to admit. She was responsible for these animals and their welfare. She was supposed to know what to do. “The cats will be okay. Their play pen is inside. With a heater and some food and water out, they’ll do fine for a day or two. But I can’t very well shoehorn the dogs in there, for obvious reasons.”

  The power chose that moment to flicker and die.

  “Really?” Brooke asked the Universe.

  A cell phone screen let off a faint glow as Hayden switched it to flashlight mode. “Got a bigger flashlight?”

  “Yes, dammit.” She hunted it up and flipped it on. The brighter beam cast crazy shadows on the cinderblock walls, giving his face odd angles.

  “So what’s Plan B?”

  Sinking back against the desk, Brooke exhaled a defeated sigh. “It’s more like Plan J at this point, and I have no idea. I’m tapped out. With the power out, I can’t even leave the cats inside. It’s going to be too cold.”

  “I’ve got a propane generator in the truck, along with a couple of thirty gallon tanks. At half load, it should be enough to heat this core building until the city gets the actual power back on.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Brooke exhaled a sigh of relief. “Wait, why do you have a generator in your truck?”

  “Just in case. I knew the weather was gonna get bad and that we’d sell out of them at the farm supply.”

  “But don’t you need that at your own house?”

  “Maybe not. And even if the power goes out, there’s a fireplace. I can make do. You need it more here.”

  Generous to a fault. “Do you think of everything?”

  “Just about. Do you have crates for the remaining dogs?”

  “Everybody but Tiny Tim.” She nodded at her mastiff, who was gnawing on a Kong in the corner.

  Hayden went brows up. “Tiny Tim? Really?”

  She shrugged. “Well, when I got him as a puppy, he was tiny and had a gimpy leg. The vet figured he’d be stunted because of it but…well, you see him.” She scrubbed a hand between Tiny Tim’s ears, as much to soothe herself as the dog.

  “He’s yours?”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be here, so I picked him up on my way here. I didn’t plan for us both to be stuck here overnight.”

  His eyes narrowed in thought. “Okay, let me get the generator hooked up, and you start gathering up gear for the dogs. I’ve got a better idea what we can do with them.”

  As he slipped back into the storm, Brooke wondered if the fountain had sent her a miracle after all.

  Why in blue blazes had he ever thought he could pull this off? Gritting his teeth, Hayden edged forward on the too slick road, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror to check out the horse trailer in back. He’d learned to drive with this same horse trailer years ago—his dad hadn’t let him actually take his driving test until he could back it properly. But there hadn’t been any snow or ice involved then. Keeping the thing on the road under these conditions was a whole other ballgame.

  The roads were, as his grandfather was apt to say, slick as snot. Getting out like this probably wasn’t his smartest move ever. But he couldn’t think of a better way to transport that many animals from the shelter at once. They had one shot at this before the roads became absolutely impassable. There wasn’t time for a second trip. And, okay, maybe there was a little part of him that was hoping Brooke would get stuck with him for the night. He was banking on her not being willing to leave her charges. If that meant they finally got some uninterrupted time to get to know each other better, who was he to complain? And if she wanted to express her appreciation for his saving the day with maybe a kiss for the hero…he wouldn’t stop her. But that plan would only work if he could get to the rescue and back.

  Up ahead of him, the rear end of a Suburban began to slowly slide toward the shoulder, the front taking a corresponding spin into the other lane.

  “No no no no no.” With a phantom image of his grandmother in the backseat, Hayden gently tapped the brake, slowing his approach to the Chevy.

  An oncoming truck braked and did its own spin, narrowly avoiding a collision with the Suburban. Both vehicles managed to straighten up, continuing on their ways. He let out a slow hiss of breath. He could do this. As long as he kept his eyes on the road, his hands on the wheel, he could do this.

  His wipers beat a frantic tattoo, swishing away the mix of sleet and snow pelting against his windshield. The sky had darkened so much, it seemed like night was encroaching already, though it was a good two hours away. His fingers and shoulders ached with strain as he poured every ounce of attention into navigating the treacherous roads. By the time the animal shelter came into view, Hayden had lost a good five years off his life. But the truck and trailer were intact.

  Lights still shone from the squat, cinderblock building. Brooke’s little compact sat to one side, already so coated with ice, she probably wouldn’t be able to get the doors open. She came outside as he rolled carefully to a stop. Her red coat and green scarf were bright spots against the gloom of the stormy afternoon.

  “What is all this?” she demanded.

  “Transport. I’ve got a barn with room for everybody. It’s nothing fancy, but there are four walls, insulation, doors that close, and I’ve got a forced air heater and hay we can use to line some stalls. It’ll be warmer than the shelter.”

  She stared at him. “You’re going to take everybody?”

  “That’s the plan. Did you have the last pickup?”

  “Yeah, Avery left with her two new puppies about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Then let’s get everybody loaded up. It’ll be a cold trip, but we’ll get them warm when we get there.”

  Brooke hesitated, her face hovering somewhere between something that might have been hope and tears. “Please don’t take this the wrong way.”


  “What?”

  She threw herself at him, hard enough to knock him back a step as her arms came around his shoulders. “I think I love you right this minute.”

  Hayden grinned, reflexively returning the hug. “You can be thinking about what kind of food to thank me with on the way.”

  The move brought her body flush with his, and though they were both decked out in winter gear, Hayden would’ve sworn he could feel the heat of her pressed up against him.

  “I have the fixings for chili in my car.” The words were muffled against his shoulder.

  His stomach gave a mighty growl, reminding him that he’d been so busy at the store, he hadn’t been able to eat lunch. “Now it’s my turn to love you.”

  She lifted her head then, green eyes widening as she seemed to realize she was still holding on. Abruptly she released him. “Sorry. You’re warm.”

  Sorry to let her go, Hayden bit back a whole host of suggestive remarks about creative ways he’d be happy to warm her up. Not the time or place for talking about shared body heat. Still, he lost some of the blood supply to his brain at the thought.

  Focus.

  “Dogs, then food. That’s the plan.”

  “Dogs, then food,” she repeated.

  They worked in tandem, loading dogs into crates, then stacking them in the back of the truck and horse trailer. There were plenty of grumbles and howls and a few attempts at nips that Brooke shut down in a hurry. Everything was going fine until they got to the pit bull mix pacing in her kennel.

  “Hey there. Hey Greta. Please tell me you are not about to have your puppies, because this is so not the time or place,” Brooke murmured.

  “She’s pregnant?”

  “Been ready to pop for a couple days now.” She hunkered down, reaching out a hand to the dog.

  Greta whined, nosing for pets. Brooke scrubbed her ears, then slipped on one of the leashes. “Come on sweet girl. Let’s get you somewhere warmer.”

  “Put her in the backseat of the truck. She’ll be out of the wind there…in case of whatever.”

  With another look of gratitude, Brooke led Greta to the truck. They made her a nest of towels and she curled up in the floorboard, still agitated.

  “You can tell she’s uncomfortable. I think we’re gonna have some additions to the pack tonight,” Brooke said.

  Hayden gently skimmed a hand over the dog’s soft ears. “Fingers crossed she makes it to the barn at least.”

  All in all, there were fifteen dogs loaded up in the end. Tiny Tim was the last one. Hayden brought him around while Brooke hacked away at ice so she could transfer her groceries from her car to the truck. The massive dog strained against the leash, pulling Hayden off balance.

  “Hold up, Tim.”

  The Mastiff completely ignored the order, bypassing the ramp to the trailer and leaping neatly up onto the bench seat of the truck, plopping his ass down right in the middle.

  Hayden looked at the dog and shook his head. “Well, I guess Tim’s calling shotgun. Get in. It’s time to go.”

  Tiny Tim loomed on the front seat of the truck, completely blocking her view of Hayden. Brooke was okay with that. Her massive dog might help hide her mortification.

  She’d quite literally thrown herself at the man. Which, okay, might be forgivable under the circumstances because gratitude. But then she’d held on like some kind of moron because his body felt kind of amazing against hers. It had been so long, she’d practically forgotten what it was like to be held. And what was that whole, Sorry. You’re warm thing about?

  Lamesauce.

  But seriously, Hayden Garrow was the answer to her wish. The miracle to save her dogs. Who else would willingly invite fifteen dogs onto their property for the foreseeable future? The very idea of it made her heart go gooey. When was the last time she’d gone gooey for a guy? Third grade, when Tommy Trenton gave her his last Milky Way on Halloween because he knew they were her favorite.

  Maybe she was being too hard on herself with this man diet. She’d started it in the first place because of a string of exceptionally terrible dating decisions. Experience had proven she couldn’t be trusted to make smart choices on that front. But Hayden was a good guy by everyone’s metric. Kind, funny, loved animals, was a volunteer firefighter, highly involved in the community. And he loved chili.

  Maybe she should break the moratorium and ask him out. After all this was over, of course. It would be awful if she asked and he shot her down, and then they were stuck together for the duration of the storm. Which, in all probability, they would be. She was under no delusion that she’d be going home tonight. Even if the road conditions hadn’t been hellish, she’d have planned to stay in the barn to keep an eye on Greta.

  The weather had shifted yet again, sleet giving way entirely to snow. Big, fat, fluffy flakes that would’ve been gorgeous to watch from inside a warm house with a fire at her back, but which made for poor visibility on the road. They proceeded at a crawl as white swirled around them.

  “It’s gonna be fine.” Hayden’s voice was calm, reassuring. “I lived up north for a while, so I know how to handle this.”

  “Yeah? Where about?”

  “Charlotte, North Carolina. Not that it’s north, exactly, but we had snow. It was a switch from Wishful.”

  “Wishful?” That distracted her from the agonizingly slow pace. “You lived in Wishful before?”

  He chuckled. “I thought you might not remember me. I was a year ahead of you in school.”

  Brooke tried to remember back but couldn’t seem to picture him. “How old were you when you moved?”

  “Junior high. Eighth grade. My dad got a new job and off we went.”

  She frowned. “How do I not remember you?”

  “I looked a lot different then. Short, skinny as a rail, floppy hair, glasses, braces, predictably terrible teenage skin. Believe me, I’m completely okay with the fact you can’t remember that.”

  Brooke tried to envision him like that and failed. “But you remembered me?”

  He hesitated just a beat too long before answering. “Yeah, I remember you.”

  What exactly did he remember? Before she could pursue that line of questioning, red taillights appeared out of the swirl of white.

  “Shit!” Hayden’s shout had her bracing.

  Tiny Tim careened into Brooke as Hayden struggled to slow the truck without slamming on the brakes. Ahead of them, the car fishtailed, sliding neatly off the edge of the road and into the ditch. By the grace of God and Hayden’s skill behind the wheel, they narrowly avoided joining it.

  The truck shuddered to a halt. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She gasped it out as Tiny Tim planted a paw into her thigh in an effort to regain his own footing. “Off me, you big oaf.”

  From the backseat, Greta whined.

  “It’s okay girl. We’re okay,” Brooke intoned.

  “I’m gonna go check on the other car.” Hayden was unbuckled and out the door before she got the mastiff out of her lap.

  “Stay. Stay!” Brooke ordered, pointing a finger at Tiny Tim, who grumbled a protest as she slipped out into the cold.

  Snow swirled around her, the cold nipping at her bare cheeks, flakes sticking to her eyelashes as she stopped to check on the dogs. They were all restless and unhappy about the cold, but otherwise fine. Satisfied they were no worse for wear, she made her way toward the car.

  Hayden crouched down, arms braced on the roof as he spoke to the driver. “—don’t think anything’s damaged. I’ve got a winch on the front of the truck. I think I can pull you back on the road.”

  Of course he did. Because this guy was prepared for everything.

  “Oh, thank you, Hayden!”

  He glanced up and waved Brooke over. “I’m gonna just get you to scoot on over and let Brooke in the driver’s seat for this, okay?”

  Her? She slipped and slid the rest of the way over to the car, finally recognizing the big Cadillac and understanding. Delia Watso
n, one third of the trio known around town as the Casserole Patrol, wasn’t known for her excellent driving skills.

  Brooke hunched down and waved at Miss Delia and Miss Betty Monroe, her usual partner in crime. “Ladies. Where are y’all off to this very messy afternoon?”

  “Oh, Brooke! Hello!” Miss Betty, also a regular volunteer dog walker at the rescue, waved back with enthusiasm. “We’re headed out to Maudie Belle’s place to ride out the storm.”

  That was a good three miles from here. Brooke exchanged a look with Hayden. Would they even make it that far if he got them back on the road?

  “Let’s see about getting you out of this ditch first,” he said. “I’m gonna put some of these evergreen boughs in the ruts for traction.”

  He paused to murmur further instructions to Brooke before taking out a wicked-looking knife and hacking off a few branches from the cedar trees lining the road. Once he’d settled those to his liking, he made his way back up the incline to the road and began unhooking the trailer.

  “Such a nice boy,” Miss Betty cooed.

  “Got a nice backside, too,” Miss Delia observed.

  Brooke choked back a laugh but couldn’t disagree with her. “Scoot on over.”

  The elderly woman unbuckled and made room for Brooke. The car felt like a tank. They all three watched as Hayden readjusted the truck. Brooke really hoped he’d be able to get the trailer hooked back when this was done. A few minutes later, he disappeared behind the car, hooking the winch cable to something.

  “So you’re spending the storm with Hayden?” Miss Delia asked.

  Brooke knew better than to look her in the eye. The Casserole Patrol loved nothing more than romantic gossip. They’d make more of this than it was. “He’s volunteering to house the animals I couldn’t find fosters for in his barn until the temperatures go up. We’ve got fifteen dogs split between the truck and the horse trailer.”

  “My word. Why, they must be freezing back there!” Miss Betty exclaimed.

  “We’ve got them insulated as best as we can, and we’ll get them all warmed up once we get to the farm.”