The Wedding Crasher and the Cowboy

by Robin Bielman

  “Nate and Jackie aren’t going to tell anyone,” he said back with a wide grin, “are you?”

  “Our lips are sealed,” Jackie promised.

  Kennedy would like to seal Andrew’s.

  “Long story short,” Andrew started, “I’m waiting for her ex when he gets home from work, and when he tries to run, I grab him before he’s even hit the sidewalk. My car is parked right there at the curb, back door already open like I had it all planned.” He winked at Nate and Jackie. “Not my first rodeo, ladies and gentlemen. So, he puts up zero fight since he knows me, and knows there’s only one way this ends. Still, I have to follow protocol, so I lay him down on the back seat where I can cuff him. He asks if that’s necessary and I tell him it is. Then I ask him to bring his ankles to his butt. He’s barely stretched when he argues, ‘That’s as far as I go! You think I do yoga?’”

  Nate and Jackie laughed.

  “It gets better. Eventually I get him handcuffed and drive him to jail. Since we have history, I feel inclined to ask him if there’s anyone I should call. I park the car and before we get out he says, ‘yeah, my sister.’ I didn’t know he had a sister, so I say, ‘no problem, what’s her name?’”

  Andrew paused (for dramatic effect, no doubt) and pulled his metal skewer out of the fire, his marshmallow burned to a crisp. “I look at him over the seat, and he’s staring at me with a straight face when he says, ‘Anita Weiner.’”

  Everyone cracked up, even Kennedy. She had to hand it to her best friend—she didn’t know where he came up with this stuff.

  “Seriously?” Nate asked.

  “Seriously.” Andrew gave Kennedy his marshmallow. She took it without a second thought to make one final s’more.

  The couple saw someone else they knew and walked away with smiles on their faces. No doubt they’d be sharing that story a time or two over the course of the week. Kennedy bumped Andrew’s shoulder. “I love that you make people happy, but I hope you can keep all your personas straight.”

  “Piece of cake.” Andrew playfully nudged her back.

  She looked at their beautiful surroundings. Spread out around the large fire pit were white Adirondack chairs and small tables with benches. There were maybe fifteen people enjoying the firelight and sweet treat, each person receiving their own s’mores kit in a brown paper bag. A couple dozen kits remained for guests who ventured over later. Unfortunately, she’d yet to see Reed or receive a text from him.

  Across the way, Liam gave a chin-up to Andrew. Andrew had been right about the man of honor—he was very attractive. And by all appearances, as interested in Andrew as Andrew was in him.

  “I hoped Reed and Elle would be here,” she half whispered. “With it being so dark, now would be a good time to try to talk to him without any notice.”

  Andrew lifted his chin back in Liam’s direction, paying her no attention.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “What? Sorry.”

  “Never mind. Go on,” she said. “Go have fun with your new BFF.”

  “I have only one BFF and you know it.”

  She did know that. “Don’t forget your accent,” she whispered.

  “I won’t.” He handed her his s’mores bag and strode away. This was another reason they got along so well—she had the sweet tooth and he had the salty one.

  “Hey, Kennedy.”

  She turned to find Hunter on the other side of her. “Hey.”

  “Two bags?” he teased, nodding at her hands. “Don’t tell me this is your first time having s’mores.”

  “Not my first, but it’s been a long time. This one”—she lifted the bag in her left hand—“was my friend Andrew’s.” She put both bags down on the Adirondack behind her, staying close to the fire to keep warm.

  “I hear you and my brother had a good time today.”

  “How did you hear that?” Certainly not from Maverick. She doubted he’d characterize their time together as “good.”

  “I guess it was more of an observation. I asked him how it went with the tour of the trees and he got an annoyed look on his face.”

  She laughed.

  “Which, for the record, I hope means you weren’t annoyed, too. What’s the story with you two?”

  “No story.” She didn’t want to be rude and tell Hunter his brother had been an A-plus jerk in college.

  “There’s some story there. Only one other girl has ever gotten him worked up like you do.”

  She stared at the yellow and orange flames of the fire, unsure what to make of that. Her cheeks heated, from the heat but also—weirdly—from the pleasure of knowing she affected Maverick on more than a superficial level. That saying about knowing your enemy and keeping them close might be true for reasons she’d been afraid to examine too closely.

  She was about to ask Hunter about this other girl when a man cleared his throat from behind them. That she knew without a glance it was Maverick sent a string of goose bumps up her arms.

  “Hey, big brother, we were just talking about you.”

  Maverick frowned. “I came to find you. I think it’s time.”

  “Yeah?” Hunter’s voice rose an octave, excitement clear as the star-filled sky.

  “Time for what?” Kennedy asked.

  “Barley is having her babies,” Hunter said. At Kennedy’s confused expression, he added, “Barley is Mav’s dog.”

  “Oh, wow. Can I come? I’ve never seen puppies being born before.” She might not be keen on horses and mules, but she liked dogs and loved the practice of medicine in all its forms.

  “Sure,” Hunter said, while Maverick pressed his nice lips together in coolness.

  Nice lips? She must be on a sugar high if she was assigning an adjective to his mouth. For the rest of the night, she vowed not to notice them again.

  “Come on,” Maverick said. “I’ve got my truck.”

  “Where are we going?” Kennedy asked, following the men at a good clip. With Reed nowhere in sight and no communication from him, she couldn’t think of anything better than watching puppies come into the world.

  “My house.” Maverick opened the front passenger-side door for her, effectively directing Hunter to the back seat. Rather than complain, Hunter simply smirked at his brother.

  Kennedy clicked her seat belt into place. She had a million questions. Was the vet meeting them there? Were home births common? How long was labor? Was this Barley’s first litter? But when Maverick slid into his seat and looked at her, he must have seen the curiosity written all over her face because, before she could get out a single word, he pressed his finger to her lips. So surprised to feel his calloused skin on one of the softest parts of her, she stayed absolutely silent.

  “All your questions will be answered there,” he said calmly.

  She managed a small nod, and he dropped his arm.

  They drove down a private road (so noted by a sign) for maybe two minutes, before coming to a cabin—a log cabin!—nestled at the bottom of a hill. Lights shone from inside, and outside was a porch and stand-alone fence—the kind used to tie a horse to.

  Maverick parked and they went inside.

  In the corner of the homey and spacious living room, her eyes landed on a large wooden enclosure about two feet high with a front opening, like a doghouse without a roof. Maverick and Hunter strode straight to it, so Kennedy followed.

  “This is what’s known as a whelping box,” Maverick said, kneeling down at the opening.

  “Whelping?” Kennedy said, standing beside him.

  “Whelping is what the canine birth process is called,” he said.

  “Barley’s been making herself comfortable,” Hunter said. “In preparation to deliver.” He stood on the other side of his brother and stared down at the mom-to-be.

  She had golden fur and pointy black ears. Her bedding looked
pawed at and she gazed at Maverick as if to say, Please help me get this over with. A stack of towels and a laundry basket lined with a blanket were also inside the whelping box.

  There was no one else in the house. No sign of a veterinarian, which meant… “Are you delivering the puppies?”

  “I’m here if Barley needs me,” Maverick said in a soft voice, so composed that Kennedy couldn’t help but admire the way he stared back at his dog. Man’s best friend was definitely in play. “Female dogs know what to do by instinct, so she’ll do most of the work. We know she’s ready to go into labor because the sixty-four days or so of gestation are up, she hasn’t eaten all day, been restless, and before I picked you guys up, she was licking herself.”

  “Mav might not have graduated vet school, but he finished enough of it,” Hunter said with pride and a gentle voice as well.

  So he did go to vet school. Kennedy tucked that information away to ask about later. Tonight was about Barley.

  “Is this her first time giving birth?” Kennedy asked quietly.

  “Yes,” Maverick said, shifting to sit down with his leg bent in front of him. Hunter got on his knees and draped his arms over the edge of the box.

  Both brothers kept their attention on Barley, their expressions full of adoration. Kennedy’s stomach fluttered when her gaze caught on Maverick’s enraptured profile. She’d watched dads give support to their wives during childbirth, but none had ever captured the slightest bit of regard from her. This side of Maverick appealed to every part of her as a woman.

  She darted her gaze back to Barley to cure herself of that unwelcome thought.

  “Bear—that’s the golden on the ranch next door—got frisky with Barley when we weren’t looking,” Hunter said.

  “Barley and Bear, that’s cute,” she said, then, “oh my gosh, what is that?”

  “That grayish sac,” Maverick said, “means the first puppy is on the way soon.”

  Kennedy dropped down next to him, hand on his jean-clad knee to steady herself while she got situated. It was an unconscious move, but when their eyes met—for one second, two seconds, three seconds—awareness burned through her and she’d swear it swept over Maverick, too. They both looked away.

  “How many puppies is she going to have?” she asked.

  “With a dog her size, it’s usually between four and seven.”

  “And how long does labor last?”

  “We should see the first puppy within an hour. If not, we’ll call the vet to decide if we should bring her in. After that, it goes fairly quickly.”

  “Mav’s helped several mamas, so I doubt we’ll be going anywhere,” Hunter said. “Mind if I grab a drink?”

  “Go ahead,” Maverick said.

  “Anyone else want one?”

  “No, thanks,” she and Maverick answered.

  “I never get nervous in the ER, but I’m nervous now,” she admitted. “I don’t want anything to go wrong for Barley or her puppies.”

  Maverick peeked at her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s hard when you’re not in control, huh?”

  “Exactly. I’ve delivered many babies and never worried.” She wrung her hands in her lap. “But this is completely foreign. I don’t like it.”

  “Here we go,” Maverick said suddenly, crawling into the enclosure. He petted Barley’s back as she quietly squirmed, then licked herself—or rather the first puppy that popped out.

  “I’m here,” Hunter said, kneeling and leaning over the edge of the whelping box.

  Kennedy watched in awe as Maverick described everything that happened. She wanted to kiss him for explaining the process.

  “Puppies are born in a thin membrane,” he said. “Barley is removing it as the puppy comes out… It’s done.” He showed her what looked like plastic wrap before discarding it. “Now she’s licking the pup, which stimulates it to breathe and cry.” A whine sounded.

  “Music to my ears,” Kennedy said, and Maverick looked up at her and grinned.

  Grinned!

  She almost fell backward at the shock of seeing his straight white teeth on full display, along with a pair of dimples that made her stomach quiver like a schoolgirl experiencing her first crush.

  “You want to cut the umbilical cord?” he asked next, and come on, who was this sexy man letting her in on the action?

  “Yes!” She crawled on her hands and knees to get closer to them.

  Maverick instructed her on where to cut the cord, to crush it, rather than make a clean cut to reduce bleeding, and then he tied the cord off with heavy thread. His big, strong hands were a sight to see. He handed the puppy to Hunter, who put the little thing in the laundry basket.

  “Newborn pups want to nurse immediately,” Maverick said, “but that can’t happen until whelping is finished. As long as Mama can see her puppies, all is well.”

  Kennedy stared at the newborn pup. So amazing.

  Barley chewed through the umbilical cords of the remaining puppies, but on the last one, after she’d removed the membrane, she sagged in exhaustion rather than lick the pup.

  “Shortcake, you’re up again. I need you to rub the puppy vigorously with a towel until it starts breathing on its own.”

  For the first time ever—it must be the heat of the moment—she didn’t mind the nickname and jumped right in to rub the little animal until its perfect whimpers filled the room. The sweet sound almost brought her to tears. Her eyes met Maverick’s, and for a moment, time stopped. Sharing this with him…

  “The number of placentas matches the number of puppies,” Hunter said as Barley discharged one final placenta. Maverick had explained that sometimes the afterbirth didn’t come out with the puppy, but for this litter, everything lined up.

  “I’m going to take Barley outside to urinate. Be right back,” Maverick said, breaking their connection.

  Kennedy sat back on her haunches and watched him go. He’d remained incredibly calm and in control throughout the birthing process, and she wondered what had happened to prevent him from finishing veterinary school. He was a natural with animals.

  As soon as they returned, Barley got comfortable with her babies so they could nurse.

  “What happens next?” she asked from outside the whelping box.

  “Barley will keep the pups warm and fed. I’ll keep a close eye on them tonight in case she can’t supply enough milk or rejects any of the puppies.”

  “That happens?”

  “Our mom tried to reject Maverick, but it didn’t take,” Hunter teased.

  “Maybe now’s the time to tell you, you were adopted,” Maverick deadpanned.

  “Is that all you got?” Hunter fired back with a grin. He had dimples, too, but they didn’t do a thing to her stomach.

  Maverick ignored his brother this time and said to her, “Yes, that can happen. If it does, I’ve got nursing bottles and supplements I can give them. I’ll take Barley to the vet tomorrow to check her for any injuries or complications we can’t see.”

  “They’re so cute,” Kennedy crooned, staring at the new family. Three boys and three girls. “Thanks for letting me be a part of it. I enjoyed every second.”

  “It’s pretty special. I’m glad you got to see it,” Maverick said sincerely. “And participate, too. It’s one more thing to add to your list of accomplishments.”

  If he’d been closer, she would have hugged him. “Watching you in action was pretty great, too.” She put her hand over her chest. “My heart is still racing.” Possibly for more reasons than she’d care to admit. Maverick Owens did things to her. Good things.

  “It’s getting late,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll drive you guys back now.”

  “I’m gonna walk,” Hunter said. “Need to stretch my legs. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for the assist, Kennedy.”

  “Sure thing.”

>   Hunter closed the front door behind him, leaving her and Maverick alone. With the birthing complete, she took a minute to look around. Wood-burning fireplace, full kitchen, dining area, all decorated in neutral tones with a masculine slant. A picture of the entire Owens family sat on an end table next to a sectional couch.

  “Nice place,” she said, wanting to drag her feet. She wasn’t ready to go back to the inn. She was wide awake, energized. In Nancy Drew mode, interested in knowing more about her college nemesis.

  “Thanks. You ready?” Apparently his feet were already out the door. All the more reason to stay put.

  “Could I trouble you for a glass of water?” She really did need something to wet her dry throat.

  “Sure.” He ran a hand along the back of his neck. “Sorry I didn’t offer sooner.”

  She followed him, taking a seat at one of two barstools at the kitchen island. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Three years.”

  “Does your whole family live on the property?”

  “Yes.” He placed a tall glass of water in front of her.

  “This is the stage of the program where you decide you’ve had enough chitchat, huh? You’re contemplating how to get rid of me and how long it’ll take.”

  “There’s a certain nice ring to getting rid of you.” He grinned.

  “Maverick!” She punched him in the upper arm.

  “Drink,” he instructed, like that would get her out of his hair faster.

  She drank. But slowly.

  His eyes moved to her mouth pressed around the rim of the glass. Then they slid down the column of her neck as she swallowed before he leisurely moved his gaze back up to her eyes.

  When Maverick Owens watched a woman take a drink, it felt intensely personal. If he checked under her collar, he’d burn his fingers. She put the glass down on the thick wood countertop and kept eye contact.

  They’d played this game too many times to count, and she’d won nine times out of ten. She’d win now, too, no matter how much his baby blues threatened to drown her in unwelcome pleasure.