Once Upon a Rescue Page 3

  “Generous of him,” Miss Delia said.

  “Hayden loves animals.” It was the most noncommittal thing Brooke could manage.

  He slapped the back of the car, then trudged back to the truck. A minute later the car lurched as the winch began to do its job. Very gently, Brooke gave the car a little gas, carefully watching Hayden and the truck as they slowly inched toward the road.

  “C’mon. C’mon.” With a bump and a lurch, all four tires settled back on pavement.

  The ladies cheered.

  Hayden took care of unhooking the winch, and Brooke ceded the driver’s seat.

  “You ladies wait just a minute and we’ll escort you to Maudie Bell’s.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary, young man,” Miss Delia said.

  “Please, ma’am. It’s no trouble. That’s right near my grandparents’ old place, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t make sure you got there okay.”

  “Well, all right then. If you insist,” Miss Delia conceded.

  Looks out for old ladies. Check! This guy gets better by the minute.

  Then Hayden met her eyes, a spark of humor lighting his, and Brooke knew she was in deep, deep trouble.

  Hayden’s headlights swept over the faded red lettering spelling out “Garrow” on the mailbox at the end of his drive. Not that he could actually read it in the gloom of snow and dusk, but he knew it was there and relief flooded his system. The drive from town out to Maudie Bell Ramsey’s place had been nerve wracking. A dozen times he was sure Miss Delia would slide off the road again and manage to take him and their four-legged cargo with her. But by some miracle, they’d finally arrived, seeing the two women safely to the door before driving the last mile to his own house in near whiteout conditions.

  “Thank Jesus,” he murmured.

  “We’re here?” She’d said almost nothing since they’d pulled the Cadillac out of the ditch.

  “We’re here.”

  “Oh, thank God.”

  Hayden parked in front of the big metal barn. It needed a new paint job, and the landscaping around the edges was all kinds of overgrown. A project he’d meant to get to in the fall but didn’t. “It’s a little rough around the edges but it’s solid.”

  “It’s got walls. That’s already better than what we’re coming from. Let’s get the dogs. I’m sure they’re freezing.”

  As soon as he slid out of the truck, an icy wind nipped at his skin like teeth. He hurried to the barn, hauling the door open and reaching for the lights. They flickered on, and he sent up a quick prayer of thanks that there was still power. With a quick check to make sure everything was closed up tight, he went back to the truck.

  Brooke was in the trailer, Tiny Tim at her heels.

  “Everybody okay?” he asked.

  “Cold and cranky. Let’s move.”

  Working fast, they hauled loaded crates into the barn, setting them in a row down one side of the aisle. They saved Greta for last. As soon as she was inside, Hayden dragged the door shut, blocking out the wind and cold.

  “There’s still hay in the loft. I’ll climb up and toss some down if you want to root around in the tack room for saddle blankets. We can set up some makeshift beds in a few of the stalls.”

  From the crates, an assortment of whimpers, howls, and barks let them know exactly how displeased their motley pack was.

  “Hold whatcha got, pups.” He paused to crank on the heat, grateful it kicked in without a fuss. It was warmer in the barn than outside just because of the insulation, but the air was still frigid. It would take a while to properly warm up. Maybe he had some extra space heaters in the house.

  Brooke came out of the tack room with a pile of blankets. “It’s bigger than I was expecting.”

  With practiced ease, Hayden tossed down several square bales of hay. “Gramps used to raise horses. Tennessee Walkers. He had twenty at one time, but that’s been a long, long time ago. He sold off the last of the stock when he and Nanna went into assisted living last year.”

  “You don’t have any interest in following in his footsteps?”

  He made his way down the ladder. “I love to ride. But breeding? Nah. It takes a helluva lot of time and energy and especially money to turn a real profit there. I don’t love it enough for that. I’ve thought about opening up for boarding, but I just haven’t gotten around to it. Which works out in your favor because this whole place is empty.”

  Together, they made quick work of setting up a few stalls, then let the dogs loose. After a bit of roughhousing, most of them made a beeline for the makeshift beds, turning circles and ultimately flopping in a pile together to share body heat. Hayden thought they had the right idea. Not that he was about to suggest such a thing to Brooke, no matter how appealing it was to think of wrapping her in his arms.

  Greta continued to pace the aisle, panting.

  “Reckon we’re gonna have puppies by the time this storm is over,” he observed.

  “Yeah.” Brooke looked back at the door, worry etched across her features.

  “Do you want to take her into the house?”

  “I’m afraid to leave everybody else alone out here. They’re behaving right now, but they aren’t usually penned up together. I don’t want them to do any damage to each other or your property.”

  “How about this.” He strode down to the stall beside the tack room and opened it. “This is the vet stall. Any time we had sick or injured animals, we kept them here. There’s plenty of space, it’s in the middle and well-insulated. And I can get a radiant heater so that it warms up even quicker. We can set her up in here. There’s even room for cots if you’d rather we sleep out here.”

  Her mouth opened in surprise.

  “There’s no way we’re getting out of here again tonight.” He offered a rueful smile. “You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

  “I figured we were in for the duration. No, I just…you don’t have to stay out here with me.”

  Was she saying that because she didn’t want to spend time with him or because she felt bad about sentencing him to a long, cold night when the house was twenty-five yards away?

  Hayden shrugged. “Won’t be the first night I’ve spent in this barn. Let me go grab some more supplies. If you want to bring in your groceries, there’s a little fridge and a hot plate in the tack room. I’ll grab some kitchen stuff and you can get started on that thank you chili, like you promised.”

  Brooke stared at him, brows knit.

  Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, he rocked back on his heels. “What?”

  “You were a Boy Scout, weren’t you?” Her tone held a tinge of accusation.

  “Eagle Scout. Why?”

  “Because you’re apparently prepared for everything.” At last, she smiled and it hit him right in the solar plexus, warming him like a shot of whiskey.

  No, he hadn’t been prepared for everything. He hadn’t been prepared for her. Needing the distance to get himself under control, he said, “I’ll be back,” and stepped out into the storm.

  She was spending the night with Hayden Garrow.

  Okay, so it was in a barn with fifteen dogs, but still. Brooke couldn’t read him. Couldn’t tell if this was just his usual friendliness or something else. She was starting to really wish for the something else.

  She made quick work of bringing in the groceries and stowing them in the…well, the facilities in the tack room weren’t even big enough to merit the designation of kitchenette. But she did find the hot plate and a few other kitchen basics, including a sizable crock pot. It wasn’t much, but she could probably manage chili with all that. Plugging in the slow cooker, she flipped it on high to start warming and turned to browning the first batch of meat on the hot plate. The scent of chorizo began to waft out of the tack room and on into the barn, drawing several of the dogs like the pied piper’s song, including her own gentle giant.

  “Not for you. Shoo.” She waved them out of the tack room and shut the door.

  A few minutes later, sh
e caught the murmur of Hayden’s voice, presumably talking to the dogs. Then he was gone again to get another load of stuff. Once she got the chili in the crock pot, she’d go help with whatever was left.

  The tack room door opened as she scraped the last of the meat into the crock.

  “Something smells amazing.” Hayden peered over her shoulder into the crock pot. “Is that bacon?”

  He wasn’t touching her, but Brooke could feel the heat of him along her back. Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he was a human furnace. Still, awareness raised the hair on her arms as she answered. “Beef, chorizo, and bacon, yeah. It’s the basis for my three meat chili.”

  He tugged off his knit cap and clutched it over his heart. “Marry me. You are clearly the perfect woman.”

  Okay, maybe he wasn’t just being friendly. Brooke could work with that. She pivoted where she stood and shot him a flirty smile. “Well, you did save all my dogs.”

  “Least I could do.” He didn’t step back, didn’t move any closer. He just stood there, inside her personal space bubble, searching her face.

  Brooke cleared her throat. “I just need to get the tomatoes, sauce, spices, and beer in. I couldn’t find a—”

  He produced a can opener from a pocket.

  “Boy Scout,” she said again. Her fingers brushed his as she took it and another frisson of awareness zapped up her arm.

  “Chili lover,” he corrected.

  Brooke’s fingers clenched around the can opener, as if it might ground her. “Can I help you carry anything else from the house?”

  “Got it all already. Finish up here, I’ll get everything sorted.” He left her to it.

  As soon as he’d shut the tack room door behind him, she let out a slow exhale and turned back to the crock pot.

  Seriously, how had they been working together off and on for months at the shelter and she never noticed this attraction before? She’d thought he was cute and definitely she’d started noticing his muscles. But they’d just been friends. Not even hang out friends, just…we-work-together-at-the-shelter-and-he’s-a-regular-volunteer kind of friends. He’d had a sort of…maybe not hands-off vibe, but she’d never sensed any kind of a want from him before. Or maybe it was that she didn’t consider herself available before, so she hadn’t been tuned in to that. Or maybe she was crazy to think that there might be a little prospective snow-bound romance happening here.

  By the time she came out of the tack room, he’d set up two cots in the vet stall, complete with thermal sleeping bags and pillows. Another heater had been plugged in and was already warming the space. Greta was finally settled on a nest of towels in the corner. And in the aisle, he’d laid out a pile of quilts, several deep over the concrete floor. A basket anchored one corner, next to a massive urn of what she was optimistic enough to hope was coffee. And in his hands was a pack of Oreos he was trying to keep out of the maw of Tiny Tim. The other dogs had apparently been shut into their stalls.

  “Are we having a picnic?” she asked.

  “I mean, if we’re gonna be out here anyway…” The tips of Hayden’s ears pinked. He lifted the Oreos. “I figured dinner would be a while and you might be hungry.”

  The gesture was sweet and thoughtful, just the latest in a long line of sweet and thoughtful. Stuff she’d chalked up to him just being a nice guy. But maybe there was more to it than that. God knew, she could really use a nice guy.

  “Thank you. I’m starved.”

  They each grabbed a saddle from the tack room to use as a backrest and settled in on opposite sides of the package of cookies. He’d brought half and half and sugar in the basket, along with an assortment of other snacks he’d clearly foraged from his own kitchen. Chips and salsa, cheese and crackers. Between all that and the chili, they certainly wouldn’t starve.

  “So tell me, how did you get into the rescue business?”

  Settling back against her saddle, clutching the deliciously warm mug between her palms, Brook admitted, “I’m a vet school drop out.”

  “Really? That surprises me.”

  “Yeah, I went to Mississippi State. I made it through the second year but I just…couldn’t handle it. I love animals, and I couldn’t cope with having to deal with their pain every day. The idea of having to put an animal down, even as a mercy, just killed me. So I quit. I ended up switching over to get a bachelor’s degree in veterinary technology so that I had something while I figured out what to do with my life.”

  As she told her story, Tiny Tim gave an insulted grumble and flopped down on the blanket, ass end toward her to let her know what he thought of her failure to share the cookies. Well knowing her role here, she scratched at the base of his tail. “I kind of fell into the job here when my predecessor broke her leg. Massive spiral fracture. She ended up with a rod and everything. I’d been volunteering here all through college, over breaks and during the summers, so I knew the ropes and the structure. It made sense at the time, and it was just supposed to be a temporary takeover while she recovered. That was three years ago.”

  “You run the whole thing by yourself?”

  “Well, there’s me as the only full-time employee. Shelli’s my part-time assistant, and there are, as you know, scads of volunteers.”

  He blew on his coffee. “Even with volunteers, that’s a lot of work for one and a half people. There are always more animals that need help and never enough money. That’s the story of rescues and shelters everywhere, right?”

  “I keep the whole thing afloat with donations and grants and a lot of hair pulling and sleepless nights. My parents keep waiting for me to get a real job, but they don’t understand this is a real job. It’s just not the job they wanted for me.” They’d expected something normal, in an office. The kind of soul-crushing job they’d both worked their whole adult lives. “There’s absolutely nothing better than seeing an animal find a new forever home. Sure as heck beats corporate culture.”

  “You love it.”

  “Yeah, yeah I do. There’s stress, of course. I’ve been wracking my brain for months trying to figure out how to raise enough money for a new facility or even some kind of renovation to enclose the outdoor kennels. They were calling for a stiff winter months ago. I just…didn’t come up with anything. If you hadn’t come along, I don’t know what I’d have done.” She swiped up another Oreo and dunked it in her coffee. “What about you? You said you moved away from Wishful in junior high. Obviously you came back. Why was that?”

  “When I finished college, I was at loose ends, not quite sure what I wanted to do. My grandparents were starting to slow down and needed some help, so I came at first to help them out with the farm and do all the stuff my granddad was getting too arthritic to do. When it came time for them to move into assisted living, the only reason Gramps agreed was because I said I’d stay on at the farm. So, here I am.”

  What a sweetheart.

  Brooke didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Hayden’s cheeks flushed to match his ears.

  “It’s what you do for family. Besides, Wishful was always home. Plus, it’s not exactly a hardship these days to be given a place to live that’s free and clear.”

  Thinking of the money she spent every month in rent, she angled her head in concession of the point. “You are not wrong.”

  The temperature had climbed into a more comfortable range, still chilly, but not the frigid bite of outside. The coffee had helped tremendously, thawing her from the inside out. The savory, spicy scent of chili filled the space, and with the sound of snoring dogs, she could almost pretend they were on some kind of indoor camp out. It was cozy and surprisingly comfortable. Far more than she’d been expecting.

  Hayden rolled to his feet, offering a hand. “C’mon. Let’s see what the damage is.”

  He tugged her up, his hand lingering on hers for a moment before he stepped off the blanket and moved toward one of the windows in the front. Almost cheek to cheek, they peered out. Beyond the glass, the snow had slowed down to less blizzard-l
ike conditions, but there were clearly several inches of accumulation already.

  “We haven’t had snow like this in my lifetime,” Brooke murmured.

  “I’m sorry you got stuck.”

  She turned her head to look at him and decided to take the leap. “I’m not.”

  Feeling the weight of her gaze, Hayden turned his head to meet those pretty, evergreen eyes. “You’re not?”

  Brooke shook her head, her gaze dropping to his mouth before slowly coming back up to his eyes. As a sign, that was a pretty damned hard one to misread. He searched her face anyway, waiting for the spell to break or awkwardness to descend. When she didn’t move, only waited, he decided he’d never been so grateful for snow in his life.

  “Me either,” he whispered.

  The air went thick with anticipation.

  With the same level of caution he’d use to approach a wary dog, he closed the distance between them, keeping his eyes on hers. A breath away from her lips, he paused, letting the tension build and roll along his skin like a wave. Brooke lifted a hand to his chest. He could barely feel the press of it through the puffy vest, but he certainly noticed when her fingers gripped the fabric and yanked him forward that final inch. He was smiling when her lips closed over his.

  Her mouth was warm, a contrast to the pulse of cold from the window beside them. On a sigh, she swayed into him, turning the bare brush of lips into something deeper. Needing no further invitation, Hayden wrapped an arm around her, drawing her in and lifting a hand to her nape to finger the edge of her short cap of hair. The silk of it teased his fingers. Her hands slid up his chest, fumbling until she found the zipper to his thermal vest. She lowered it, the sound penetrating the roaring in his ears to kick his pulse into high gear. Did she feel it pounding when she slid her arms around his waist beneath the vest, drawing them chest to chest, warmth to warmth? Her own pulse beat a steady thud against his palm. He stroked a thumb over that point of heat until he felt his control and good intentions begin to fray. Only then did he ease back.