The Cowboy's Lesson in Love

by Marie Ferrarella

  At the moment, he was looking into the full-length mirror and doing his best to get his tie straight. In his opinion, the gunmetal-gray suit he was wearing made him look as if he had just fallen off the top of a wedding cake, but he wasn’t doing this for himself. He was doing this for Wynona. She deserved to have the wedding that she’d admitted she had dreamed about.

  It was because Clint was looking into the mirror in order to get his tie just right that he caught a glimpse of his son peering into the room. The moment Ryan realized that he’d been seen, the boy quickly stepped back, out of sight.

  Clint stopped fumbling with the black fabric. The two sides of the tie hung on either side of his neck, silently mocking him.

  “C’mon in, Ryan,” Clint called out. “You’re just the person I want to see.”

  “I am?” Ryan asked in unabashed surprise. The boy slowly crossed the threshold into the room and then took hesitant steps to draw closer to his father.

  “Absolutely,” Clint replied. He turned away from the mirror, temporarily abandoning his efforts to tie a reasonable-looking tie, and looked down at his son. “Come on over here and sit down with me, Ryan.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ryan obediently followed him to the single small sofa in the room and sat down beside his father once the latter had taken a seat.

  It occurred to Clint that the events in the past few weeks had happened very fast. When Wynona had said yes to him, he didn’t want to waste any more time with things like long, formal engagements. Afraid she might change her mind or come to her senses, he was anxious to make Wynona his wife as soon as possible.

  The sped-up pace was fine for him, but maybe it was a little difficult for his son to accept.

  Maybe Ryan would have needed some time to adjust to what was going on. He didn’t want the boy to feel as if the rug had just been pulled out from under his feet. He was finally making amends for having ignored Ryan for all these years and he didn’t want to mess it up now.

  Clint put his hand on his son’s shoulder and felt a twinge of guilt when he felt Ryan stiffen. The boy had turned out really well, considering how he had neglected him.

  Wynona had come into both their lives just in time, he couldn’t help thinking.

  Clint left his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You okay with this?” Clint asked.

  “With what?” Ryan asked almost timidly.

  It occurred to Clint that he and Ryan hadn’t had any father-son talks or even moments together.

  He was going to have to change that. Starting now.

  “With my marrying your teacher. Ms. Chee.”

  They were going to have to come up with a way to refer to her, Clint thought. Wynona wasn’t going to just be his teacher, and calling her Mom would probably be difficult for Ryan, at least at first.

  Later, Clint told himself. He’d deal with that after the wedding, not now.

  “Sure,” Ryan answered cheerfully. “She’s great. She already told me I could call her Mom if I wanted to. And I do.” He looked at his father. “Is that okay with you? ’Cause I won’t if it’s not,” Ryan assured him quickly.

  Clint slipped his arm around his son’s shoulder, pulling the boy to him in a quick, impromptu hug. “It’s okay with me.” He felt as if he was suddenly going to choke up. “Well,” he continued, taking a breath and releasing the boy, “I’d better get back to wrestling with this tie if I’m going to look presentable for this wedding.”

  “I can help you if you want,” Ryan offered.

  Clint looked at him, astonished. “You know how to tie one of these things?”

  Ryan bobbed his head up and down. “Uh-huh.”

  “How did you learn how to do that?” Clint wanted to know, still rather skeptical that Ryan could actually live up to his claim.

  “You’ve gotta stay sitting down or I can’t reach you,” Ryan said as his father began to get up. When Clint lowered himself back on the sofa, Ryan got to work. Staring intently at the tie, he quickly brought the two ends together. “Lucia taught me.”

  “Lucia,” Clint repeated, surprised. “And why would she do that?”

  “She said you never knew when something like that could come in handy.” Finished, the boy beamed as he looked at his handiwork. “I guess she was right.”

  “I guess she was at that.” Clint rose from the sofa and surveyed himself in the mirror. “Perfect,” he proclaimed to his son. “So, are you ready to get married?”

  Ryan beamed. “Me, too?”

  “You, too,” Clint answered.

  Ryan slipped his small hand into his father’s, his eagerness barely contained. “Let’s go!”

  And they did.

  * * *

  Don’t miss previous titles from

  Marie Ferrarella:

  Adding Up to Family

  Christmastime Courtship

  A Second Chance for the Single Dad

  Meant to Be Mine

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  A New Leash on Love

  by Melissa Senate

  Chapter One

  The gray-muzzled, three-legged Lab mix gnawing on a chew toy in his kennel at the Furever Paws Animal Rescue sure reminded Matt Fielding of himself. The dog was big, and so was Matt, at six foot one, with muscles honed by the United States Army. Matt wasn’t missing a leg, but he’d come scarily close, an IED injuring him to the point that he’d been medically retired three months ago, spending that time—until yesterday—in base rehab. He had only a slight limp now, but kneeling down in front of the old dog’s kennel had taken a good fifteen seconds.

  I’d take you home in a heartbeat, Hank, he thought, his gaze on the dog’s chart. The ten-year-old was an “owner surrender.” Among the sadder words, for sure. His heart went out to the old guy stuck in this limbo between homes—like Matt was. But his sister would kill him if he walked through the door of her pristine house with a huge senior dog. And getting on her bad side right now wasn’t a good idea.

  The former army corporal had his order—and it was to find his sister’s eight-year-old daughter, Matt’s adored niece, Ellie, a suitable puppy. Suitable, of course, was a relative term. Old Hank might have spoken to Matt’s soul, but he wasn’t here to find himself a dog. Pets required commitment and a solid home
, not a guy who had no idea where he’d be a week or two from now. Thirty-six and his life up in the air. If anyone had told Matt, so focused from the time he joined the army at eighteen, that one day he’d be at a loss for what came next, he wouldn’t have believed it. Until three months ago, he was the US Army. Now, he was a civilian. With a slight limp.

  It’s barely noticeable and is symbolic of your service, so don’t let it get you down, his sister had said yesterday when he’d arrived back in his hometown of Spring Forest, North Carolina, for the first time in five years. Little Ellie had saluted him, and he’d swept her up in a hug. But living in his sister’s guest room, despite his adorable niece telling him knock-knock jokes that made no sense but still made him laugh, wasn’t ideal. He needed to figure out what came next.

  Right now, though, he needed to focus on his mission. One thing at a time, one moment at a time, his doc and the nurses at the rehab had said over and over.

  So, back to suitable pups.

  “Hank is one of my favorites,” a woman said, and Matt almost jumped.

  He knew that voice. He turned to the left and looked up, and standing not ten feet away was Claire Asher.

  Claire.

  From the look on her beautiful face, it was obvious she hadn’t realized it was him. For a moment he couldn’t find his voice. All he could do was take in the sight of her, his chest tight and his throat closed. He’d spent so many nights over the past eighteen years thinking about her, wondering how she was, where she was, if she was happy, his memories getting him through some iffy times. And now she stood almost within reach, pale brown eyes wide, mouth dropped open.

  She had a leash in her hand and a big cinnamon-colored dog in a purple polka-dotted harness beside her. A boxer, maybe? Matt wondered, finding it easier to focus on the dog than the woman—who was staring at him with the same shock that had to be on his face.

  “Matt?” she said, wonder in her voice.

  The dog next to her tilted her head, his dark-brown ears flopping to the right.

  He nodded and stood up, which took the same fifteen seconds getting down had. “I’m here to find a dog for my niece.” Going through his mind was, You look amazing. How are you? I’ve thought about you constantly. What are you doing here? I’ve missed you. Thank God none of that had come rushing out of his mouth.

  “Ellie,” she said, surprising him. “I’ve run into your sister a few times over the years.”

  He nodded, his gaze going to her left hand. No ring. Hadn’t he heard she’d gotten married a while back?

  “You look great, Claire.” She really did. Tall and as slender as she’d been back in high school, she was the Claire Asher he remembered—would never forget. Her silky, wavy, light blond hair was shoulder-length instead of halfway down her back, and the faintest of crinkles at the corners of those green eyes spoke of the passage of years. The last time he’d seen Claire she was seventeen. Now, she was thirty-five.

  “Are you on leave?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I’m a civilian now. Just got back in town yesterday. I’m staying with my sister for a bit. In fact, my sister is why I’m here. She and her husband promised Ellie a puppy for her birthday next month, so I told Laura I’d scout it out. I heard great things about Furever Paws just from asking about pet shelters at the coffee shop.”

  Claire beamed. “It’s a very special place. I volunteer here.” She gave the dog beside her a pat. “This is Dempsey. I’m fostering her until she finds a forever home.”

  “A furever home,” he said, pointing at the rectangular wooden sign on the wall with the message in silver script: Where furbabies find their furever homes.

  She smiled—that beautiful Claire Asher smile that used to drive him wild.

  “If only you’d come in yesterday or this morning,” she said. “Every Saturday and Sunday we hold adoption events here at the shelter. Four puppies found forever—furever—homes, plus five adult dogs and five cats.”

  “So these dogs in the kennels weren’t chosen?” he asked, eyeing Hank, who was still chewing on his toy bone.

  “Not this weekend. But we get a crowd every Saturday and Sunday, and sometimes it takes a while to find an ideal match. That’s the most important part of the process—that the match be just right, for the pet and the adoptive family.”

  He nodded. “Is there a match for an eight-year-old girl whose requirements are ‘super cute, snuggly and won’t destroy a prized stuffed animal collection’?”

  Claire laughed. “Follow me. I think I know just the pup.” She led him down the row of kennels to the end. A puppy was spinning circles in the kennel, chasing her tail and letting out loud yips.

  “My ears,” Matt said with a smile. The puppy sure ticked off the “adorable” requirement. A springer spaniel mix, according to the chart, five months old, she was chestnut-brown and white with long, ruffled, floppy ears. Ellie would go nuts over her.

  “Yeah, that’s why she’s still here. She yipped for twenty minutes straight at both adoption events. Including every time someone came near her kennel. She’s only been here a few days, though. Another volunteer and I have been working with her a bit. She just needs some training. She’s very sweet.”

  And loud, Matt thought. And...active. “Does she ever actually catch her tail and stop spinning?”

  Claire laughed again. “Yes. Peanut butter treats get her to do anything.”

  “Would she be right for Ellie?” he asked. “My sister likes calm and orderly. I think she wants an old dog in a puppy’s body.”

  “Well, it’s important to match temperaments, and puppies can be trained, but puppies are puppies—little kids. They make noise, they’re super active, they eat shoes.”

  “Ellie never ate a shoe, far as I know.”

  She laughed and touched his arm, the most casual gesture, but the feel of her fingers on his skin sent a lightning bolt through him. Standing here with her, her hand on him, it was as if they’d never broken up. Claire and Matt, high school sweethearts, married with four kids, four dogs, four cats—that’s how many Claire had said she wanted of each. Plus a parrot and lovebirds. And a box turtle. He could go on.

  Sometimes, over the years, late at night, Matt would berate himself for breaking up with Claire after graduation. He’d told her he needed to be focused on being the best soldier he could be, leaving it at that, and the pain on Claire’s face had almost made him tell her the truth. That he wasn’t and had never been and never would be good enough for her, that he’d hold her back, keep studious, bookish, intelligent Claire from fulfilling her big dreams of leaving Spring Forest for the big city. Matt wasn’t a big city guy, and he’d planned to be career-army. Now, he didn’t know what he was. Too many rough tours of duty, first as a soldier, then as a mechanic on dangerous missions, had left him...broken.

  And here in Spring Forest, he didn’t recognize himself or belong.

  Focus on the mission, not yourself, he ordered himself. “I think my sister wants a temperament like Dempsey’s,” Matt said, gesturing at Claire’s foster dog. The pooch was sitting, hadn’t made a peep and didn’t react in the slightest to the commotion around her.

  “Dempsey is the best,” Claire said. “A couple months ago, she was found chained outside an abandoned house. I don’t think she ever had a home before I took her in, so I’ve worked hard at acclimating her to the good life—which means passing muster on housetraining, manners, obedience, the whole thing. Now she’s ready for a home, but she keeps getting passed over.”

  She knelt down beside the boxer and gave her a double scratch on the sides of her neck, then a kiss on her brown snout. Claire shook her head and stood up, her gaze on the dog.

  He might not know Claire anymore, but a stranger could tell how much she loved that dog.

  “Can’t you adopt her?” he asked.

  “I always want to adopt every dog I foster
, but that’s not my calling here,” she explained. “Fostering is about preparing dogs for adoption so they can find homes. If I adopted every dog I fostered, I’d have over twenty at this point. Plus, every time a dog I work with finds a home, I can foster a new pooch.”

  “Must be hard to let them go,” he said. “Don’t you get attached?”

  “Definitely,” she said. “But because we do such a good job of matching furbabies and adoptive parents, I know they’re going to a great home. I do worry about how attached I am to Dempsey, though. I can’t explain it, but we definitely have a special bond.” She gave the boxer mix another scratch on the head, and the dog looked up at her with such trust in her eyes, even Matt’s battered heart was touched. “Oftentimes, that bond is there right away.”

  “I had no idea about any of this,” he said. “There’s more involved in choosing a dog than I realized. Can you help me find the right puppy for Ellie?”

  “Of course,” she said. “There are a few other puppies here that Ellie might like, but they all need some training. Maybe you can bring Ellie back with you and we can see who she bonds with. Furever Paws is in the process of finding a new director, so I’m helping with just about everything, from meet and greets to training to fostering to cleaning out kennels.”

  He glanced around the kennel area of the shelter, which had a warm, welcoming vibe to it. “It’s great of you to give your time,” he said. “When should I bring my niece in tomorrow?”

  “I’m done teaching at the middle school at three, so I usually arrive at three thirty.”

  So she had become a teacher. That had always been her dream. But back in high school she’d wanted to leave Spring Forest and see the world, teaching her way through it. Maybe she had, for all he knew. “Works for Ellie too,” he said. “See you tomorrow, then.”

  For a second they just looked at each other, neither making a move to leave. He wished he could pull her into his arms and hug her, hold her tight, tell her how good it was to see her, to hear her voice, to talk to her. He’d missed her so much and hadn’t even known it. Which was probably a good thing. He had nothing to offer her.