Wrangled and Tangled

by Lorelei James

  As the box rocked again, a pitiful whimpering echoed to her. All caution fled and she crouched over the open box. “Oh my.” A basset hound puppy blinked sad eyes at her and then tried to jump out of the box, yipping and whining.

  “Jesus, Janie, what the hell?” Then, “Oh shit. Somebody dumped a dog?”

  “It’s a puppy. Poor thing. Look at it. Its ribs are showing.” She crooned, “Hey, little guy. It’s okay. We won’t hurt you. We won’t leave you.” Leaning closer, she got a whiff of urine. “Think it’ll be okay riding in the back of your truck?”

  “Gonna hafta be because it sure ain’t ridin’ inside the truck smelling like that.” Abe moved the box flaps and said, “Grab a side.”

  She blinked at him.

  “What? You expected I’d carry it? No dice. If I’m gonna smell like abandoned dog piss, then you are too.” Abe dropped the tailgate and they hefted the crying puppy into the truck bed.

  “Sure, the one time I’d be happy to see a hay bale poking out of the back of your truck . . . there isn’t one.”

  He slammed the tailgate and peered over the edge. “It’ll be fine until we get home.”

  By the time she climbed into the cab, she’d formulated a plan. “It’ll need a bath. And food.”

  “Which it’ll immediately throw up, requiring another bath,” Abe said dryly.

  “I’ll deal with it. I just can’t stand the idea of it being outside in the barn.”

  “Hey.” Abe snatched her hand. “I’m not saying we oughta turn the pup out into the wintry night. I just don’t want you to ruin that beautiful dress. You looked stunning tonight, if I haven’t mentioned it.”

  She blushed. He had mentioned it. Several times. The extra effort on her appearance had paid off the instant she’d seen the hot look of appreciation in Abe’s eyes. “Thanks.”

  “I had seduction plans.” His lips grazed the back of her knuckles. “Good ones like the other night. You really liked that. But I’ll save those plans for another time since we’ll be puppy sitting.”

  After reaching the ranch, they left the puppy in the truck bed while they changed clothes. Abe tracked down a cardboard box and Janie tried to prepare the bathroom.

  Abe brought in a wiggly bundle wrapped in a ratty horse blanket. “Ready?”

  “Yep.”

  Plop. The stinky thing yipped, attempting to jump out of the tub. The whining increased tenfold when Janie hosed the pup down. Then it bent its furry head and lapped up water. Lots of water. When it finally stopped drinking, the puppy’s sides heaved, liquid spraying out the mouth and nose. Poor thing didn’t know what was happening and cried like they were killing it. As soon as the vomiting ended, Janie squirted a line of soap and gently scrubbed the fur. Except for the shaking, the dog stayed very still through the bath.

  Janie’s heart broke at seeing how tiny the puppy was without fur masking his body size. Abe handed her a towel and she fluffed the fur as she dried it. She peered at the spotted underbelly. “It’s a boy.”

  “So it is.”

  “I’m gonna name him.” She braced herself for Abe to tell her not to get attached because they weren’t keeping the dog.

  A beat of silence passed. “What?”

  “George.”

  “Why George?”

  She shrugged. “Just popped into my head.” She carried him into the kitchen and set him on a towel. “You think his stomach is settled?”

  Abe shook his head. “Give it another hour.”

  So she and Abe stretched out on the linoleum, watching George explore. The pup was clumsy, as he hadn’t grown into his big paws. He was a funny little thing. Curious. Affectionate. Destructive. He ripped the newspaper on the floor to shreds, barking at the pieces that fell around him like confetti.

  George yawned and trotted over to Janie’s side, snuggling into her leg before he put his jaw on his paw and drifted to sleep.

  Janie petted his fur, smitten with the helpless critter. She looked over at Abe and blushed at seeing his amused expression. “What?”

  “I never thought you were a dog person.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You barely tolerated Celia’s mutt.”

  She ruffled George’s soft coat. “Bringing another dog into Murray’s domain wasn’t allowed, so I can see where you might’ve gotten that impression.”

  Abe reached over and ran his knuckles down Janie’s cheek. “Was I really that much of a bastard?”

  “No.” She paused. “Okay, sometimes. You didn’t understand I wanted some things that were ours. Just ours. I know that sounds selfish.”

  “I’ll admit, I thought it was selfish back then. But now? Not so much.”

  “Did you have any idea how much I wanted a baby?” As soon as she said it, she wished she could take it back.

  His hand froze. “You did?”

  “Yes. I thought a baby would fix everything between us. I thought it’d give me a reason . . .” Janie angled her face away from his touch.

  But Abe, being Abe, wouldn’t allow it. He gripped her chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You thought it’d give you a reason to stay, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Ask me what it would take to get me to stay now. Prove to me you’ve really changed.

  Abe’s beautiful gray eyes churned with emotion. “How did we end up hurting each other so badly when we loved each other so much?”

  “I don’t know.” It pained her to hear him using love in the past tense. She closed her eyes. She loved him now more than she ever had. But how could she tell him? When she’d repeatedly led him to believe this situation was temporary and he seemed good with that?

  “Janie?”

  Don’t make me look at you. I don’t think I can hide the truth from you much longer.

  The fur ball against her leg stretched and whimpered. She scooped him up and rubbed her cheek on his soft head. “What’s wrong? You hungry?” She pushed to her feet, grateful to focus on the puppy.

  Later, curled up in bed, they listened as George scratched, whimpered and cried in his puppy prison. Janie said, “You think this is what it’s like to be parents?”

  Abe’s hand tenderly traveled the length of her arm from her shoulder to the bend in her elbow. “Maybe. But I’m pretty sure it’s against the law to keep a kid in a box.”

  She lightly elbowed him.

  He chuckled. “I imagine it’s close. Hearing the baby cry. Getting up with it. Wondering what you’re gonna do with the little bugger during the day when you can’t take it to work.”

  “Can George go with you tomorrow? Learn to be a ranch dog?”

  “Weren’t you the one who brought it home so you could love it and hug it and squeeze it and feed it and call it George?”

  She elbowed him again. “Yes, but I can’t take a puppy to work with me.”

  “I can’t either. Not when he’s so small. We’ll have to crate him in the kitchen.”

  “I hope he’s a fast learner.”

  “I’m a fast learner too. Now I know why you named him George. Because of that Christmas movie you loved so much.”

  They’d only spent three Christmases together, so she was happy he’d remembered watching It’s A Wonderful Life with her. “Busted. With the snowy weather, and it being so close to Christmas, the name just seemed to fit.”

  “Mmm.” He kissed her shoulder. “George. The dog who saved my Christmas present.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “ ’Cause now I’m hoping you’ll think the collar I got you . . . was actually for the dog.”

  She laughed softly. “I’m glad we’re spending Christmas together, Abe.”

  “Me too.”

  Chapter Thirty

  New Year’s Eve was overrated.

  Especially when Renner had to pretend to ignore the only person he wanted to be with. The heat and the noise level at Hank and Lainie’s first New Year’s bash increased, escalating his need to escape.

&
nbsp; Renner hadn’t seen Tierney for at least ten minutes and he knew where to find her. He cut through the crowd, snagged his coat from the pile in the entryway and snuck out the front door.

  Bingo. She leaned against the porch railing. She’d dressed warmly enough for the frigid night: fuzzy tasseled hat, long wool coat, a thick scarf looped around her neck, puffy mittens covering her hands. She looked damn cute. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.”

  “Had enough of wall-to-wall people?”

  “It’s a fun party and all, but I needed a minute to clear my head. Then I came out here and it’s been hard to pull myself away.”

  One of his favorite things about Tierney was the city girl had become enamored with this rugged no-man’s-land called Wyoming. He secretly loved catching her gazing out their office window. Or sitting on the log behind her cabin. Or sometimes in the mornings she’d wander halfway down the hill to the barns and corral. In those moments when she quietly marveled at nature, she defined serenity. It was a far cry from the uptight Tierney who’d arrived in Muddy Gap four short months ago.

  “The view is breathtaking, isn’t it?” she murmured.

  Renner set his hand on the rail next to hers and drank in the vista. Rocky hills and veiled valleys morphed into snow-capped mountains in the distance. Wispy clouds shuttled by, but didn’t mar the majestic black sky. The landscape wasn’t all that spectacular compared to the panorama from the rooftop of the barn at the Split Rock. “It’s all right, I suppose. I know someplace better.”

  And just as he expected, she challenged, “Prove it.”

  “Gladly. But first I’ve gotta know . . . You afraid of heights?”

  Tierney rolled her eyes. “No.”

  “So let’s go.”

  “Now? Renner. It would be rude not to say thank you to Hank and Lainie for inviting us to their party.”

  “The booze is flowing. No one will miss us.” When she still wasn’t convinced, he leaned close enough to get a whiff of her lemon lip balm. “Is it so wrong that I wanna be alone with you on New Year’s Eve? I’d like to kiss you at midnight and not give a damn about who’s watching.”

  Those beautiful coffee-colored eyes softened. “Did you practice that line?”

  “Nope. Spur of the moment. But it’s a damn good one, don’t you think?”

  “It’s all right, I suppose.”

  “Smarty.” He couldn’t resist giving her a smacking kiss on the mouth. “Meet me at the barn in about thirty minutes. Dress warm. Wear sensible shoes.”

  Tierney parted her lips to protest; he kissed her again. “As much as I love them sexy-assed, do me baby high heels you prefer, tonight you need to wear shoes with nonskid soles.”

  Renner waited until Tierney pulled away in her vehicle before he bounded down the steps to his truck.

  Half an hour later, as he situated the ladder beneath the hayloft door, he began to wonder if this was a stupid idea. He’d wanted to give her a different way to ring in the New Year. Alone. Just the two of them. The way it oughta be. Hopefully the way it’d play out for years to come.

  The main door squeaked and she yelled, “Renner? You in here?”

  “Yeah. Come on up to the hayloft.”

  “You offering to give me a roll in the hay?”

  “Maybe after. If you’re a good girl.”

  “But you like me so much better when I’m bad,” she purred.

  That damn throaty growl always made him hard. “I’m hoping this doesn’t freak you out.”

  Her eyes narrowed on something behind him. “What’s the ladder for?”

  “To climb on the barn roof for the very best view of this valley and the rock from whence the Split Rock garnered its name.” Renner grabbed her hand and tugged her to the ladder. “You’ll love it.”

  “This isn’t a trick? Get me up there and push me off?”

  “Your concern would’ve been justified if I’d brought you up here right after you’d first shown up. I’da happily shoved you over the edge.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “It’s different now, between you and me. It’s . . .” Real. He released her and squeezed through the trapdoor. The apex of the barn roof was a flat space, four feet wide, before it started to slope down both sides. There wasn’t much room to sit; their legs would dangle over the edge. “Give me your hand.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Darlin’, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She climbed up as far as she could; then he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her through the rest of the way.

  Tierney clutched him tightly. “Oh God. We’re high up.”

  “I thought you didn’t have a fear of heights?”

  “I worked on the fiftieth floor of a Chicago high-rise. Of course I don’t have a fear of heights as long as I’m encased in glass. Can we please go back down to the ground? I won’t even bitch about getting manure on my shoes.”

  “Tierney. Baby.” Renner placed his hands over her cheeks and stared into her eyes. “Breathe.”

  She did.

  When he was fairly certain she wouldn’t topple off from dizziness, he said, “Let’s sit down.”

  “Don’t let go.”

  “I won’t. Trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  To have this woman’s trust was no easy task; he was both humbled and overjoyed. “Do what I do.” Renner dropped to his knees. She followed suit. He swung his legs over the edge and kept hold of her the entire time.

  “What do you think of the view?”

  “I haven’t opened my eyes yet.”

  He chuckled. “Come on. Open them beautiful browns.”

  “Oh. Wow. This is impressive.”

  The landscape took center stage and neither spoke.

  “That extra story and a half allows you to see over the ridge to the valley below. You don’t get this view even on top of the lodge.”

  “You’ve been up there?” She paused. “Of course you’ve been up there.”

  Renner snorted. “You make it sound like I compete in the X-Games. I’m not exactly a daredevil.” He tried several times and several ways to dislodge her death grip on his hand but she wasn’t getting the hint. “Tierney, I need my hand back.”

  “You promised you wouldn’t let go.”

  “I won’t.” Renner hooked his leg over hers. “There. You can have my hand back in a second. I need to grab something outta my pocket.”

  “A parachute? In case the wind comes up and we start to slide off the freakin’ roof?”

  “I wouldn’t have brought you up here if there was a chance we’d become kites.” He reached in his left pocket and fished out a bottle. “It ain’t the traditional champagne, but you want some peppermint schnapps?”

  “I’ve never had that.”

  He tsk-tsked and uncapped the bottle, sneaking a drink. “You really have led a sheltered life.” He held it to her lips and said, “A nip will keep you warm.”

  Tierney kept her eyes on his as she sipped.

  “You like?”

  “Mmm-hmm. It’s an interesting combination of sweet and warm.”

  “Reminds me of you.” Renner kissed her. The brisk night air had cooled her lips and she tasted sweet from the peppermint. The sweetness vanished in the heat of her mouth as it moved on his, filling him with an underlying tang that wasn’t from liquor but was pure Tierney. But he got that same drunken feeling kissing her as he did from too much booze.

  He loved her. Loved this woman who was so unlike anyone he’d ever known. She owned him. Heart and soul.

  And she didn’t know it. When would he muster up the guts to tell her?

  Maybe he’d get lucky and in a moment of passion, she’d say it first.

  Her tongue darted out to lick away the last remnants of peppermint from his lips. She murmured, “So serious, cowboy. Something on your mind?”

  You. I want you in my life like this every damn day. Every damn night. And I don’t know what I can offer you to convince you to st
ay with me.

  “Renner? What’s wrong?”