This visit was different. As much as I wanted to prove to myself that nothing had changed, I couldn’t do it. I tried to focus my thoughts on Sugar, on all the amazing things she could do, but it was another face I kept seeing in my mind’s eye.
Feeling a little shaken, I turned around before I even knocked on her door. It was while I was hoofing it back to my truck – conveniently parked elsewhere – that I spotted Magners. Honestly, just looking at the guy made my fist clench in a silent need to mess up that momma’s boy’s face.
Wearing designer nut-huggers and a shirt reminiscent of Rico Suave, he was definitely in full-blown conquest mode. (I must pause here and tell you that in terms of fashion trends, Harken was decades behind the rest of the civilized world).
If his clothing and stylishly gelled hair weren’t enough of a clue, the wave of Polo cologne was. He also had a handful of long-stemmed red roses in one hand and a box of foil-wrapped chocolates in the other. After tossing both in his little import, he slid in and - I swear to God – looked in his rearview mirror and put on lipstick. He smacked his lips together (like I’ve seen women do), smiled at his reflection, then did a U-ey right there in the middle of Main Street. I didn’t have to see him make the turn that would lead him up the mountain to know exactly where he was headed.
My internal musings went mute and before I knew it, I was in my truck.
It didn’t take long for me to catch up to his two-seater. The thing might have been fast on the straightaways, but it was as big of a pussy as he was when it came to the steep mountain grade. Not to mention he had to keep it slow because some of the potholes might have swallowed his car whole. I rode his ass for a while – just because I felt like it – and then passed him, letting him hear the roar of my big V-8 as I powered by.
A bit juvenile perhaps, but satisfying nonetheless.
What I wanted to do was head right to Clarissa’s place, but even I knew that was kind of a dick move, especially given how I had intended to spend my afternoon. So, with much growling and gnashing of teeth, I forced myself to take the branch off to my property instead.
I made it into my cabin, telling myself that I didn’t care. I would work through my issues. I was not, nor would I ever be, involved with my prickly little neighbor. She was a grown woman, one who would not welcome my interference. I figured she gave me a bye on that last episode with Magners, but I hadn’t missed the warning in her eyes: Don’t fight my battles for me.
I had every intention of respecting her wishes. I really did.
I lasted ten minutes, fifteen tops. But when I heard Magner’s pathetic excuse for a vehicle whining its way closer to Clarissa’s, I couldn’t help myself. I set the half-eaten jar of peaches aside and opted for a bit of recon.
As long as I live, I will never forget the picture I saw as I peered through the tree line. It is burned into my brain, and will no doubt still bring a smile to my face fifty years from now.
Clarissa Sullivan, my prickly little neighbor, was sitting on her porch in a rocking chair with a pipe dangling from the corner of her mouth and the BB gun I gave her straddling her lap.
She was quite possibly the most adorable thing I’d ever seen.
Malcolm’s sure-footed steps hesitated as he drew closer. Proving he had at least half a brain he stopped several feet from the porch. Of course, the BB gun raised and pointed menacingly at his crotch might have had something to do with that.
I couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but there was no mistaking Clarissa pumping up the BB gun and shifting her aim over toward Malcolm’s ride. Nor was there any misinterpreting the look of absolute horror on Malcolm’s face. In what had to be a new record, Malcolm was high-tailing it back to his sports car and peeling away in a cloud of dust and gravel.
My chest swelled with pride. The genuine smile on Clarissa’s face told me she was pleased, too.
I’d just turned around to head back to my place when I heard it - the screech of tires and a yelp that turned my blood cold. Clarissa was already on her feet, running down her driveway. Her limp was a lot more noticeable now, and I realized how much of an effort she took to walk normally the rest of the time.
I wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but I had a pretty good idea. That stray was hanging around Clarissa’s almost all the time now. I wasn’t much of an animal person myself, but I saw the look on Clarissa’s face and I didn’t want her to be the one to find the dog Malcolm must have hit on his mad dash out of there.
Putting on a burst of speed, I cut a diagonal path out to the road. I cursed when I saw the crumpled form, a mass of fur and blood.
“No!” Clarissa cried, running right for the dog. I yelled out a warning – injured animals could be dangerous – but she completely ignored me and went over to it anyway.
She kneeled over it, stroking the still form. Then she looked at me with tears running unchecked down her face and whispered, “Please help me.”
It hit me like a missile right to the center of my chest, that sudden and that freaking powerful. I knew the situation was probably hopeless, but the words stuck in my throat. I nodded. “I’ll get my truck,” I heard myself saying, taking off like a bat out of hell to do just that.
There was nothing in the world that could have made me deny her at that point.
Between the two of us, we wrapped the dog in some old blankets I had stashed in the back. As an extra precaution, I tore off some strips of an old shirt I had back there, too, and secured the dog’s muzzle, just in case he roused on the way into town and decided he didn’t want to be helped. No way I was willing to chance Clarissa getting hurt like that.
Clarissa climbed up into my truck by using her hands to pull herself up. Once she was settled and had the seatbelt secured, I lifted the dog and placed it on the bench seat, half in her lap. Putting it in the back probably would have been the smarter thing to do, but one look at her determined face and I knew that suggestion wasn’t going to go over well.
We made it down the mountain in record time, and miracle of miracles, the dog was still breathing when we pulled into Sugar’s office lot.
“Hey there, soldier,” Sugar crooned when she saw me, her voice a thick purr. “I was wondering when you were going to come by. It’s been - ”
Sugar broke off mid-sentence and I knew then that she’d spotted Clarissa behind me and the bundle of bloodied blankets in her arms.
Oh, hell.
After only a momentary blink, Sugar was in full-blown veterinary doctor mode. I took the dog from Clarissa – I honestly don’t know how she managed to get out of the truck with it in her arms, the thing was more than half as big as she was – and followed Sugar back to the examining room.
Sugar was all business, and I realized this was the first time I’d ever seen her focused on something other than my ... well, you get the idea.
Clarissa remained as quiet as ever, hugging the back wall but staying close. I knew she had put two and two together. What I didn’t know is what, if any, effect that knowledge had on her. Nor did I know why that was suddenly so important to me.
Chapter 4
Clarissa
“I want to take him home.”
I said the words and they both looked at me like I’d grown two heads. Travis, probably because he’d never heard me speak a full sentence and now I’d done so twice in one day. The gorgeous redhead, because she’d just finished her initial exam and told Travis that the dog would be better off put down.
“Fix him. Do whatever you need to. I don’t care what it costs.”
She eyed me thoroughly, shooting occasional glances over at Travis. I could see the wheels turning as she tried to put the pieces together. Who was I? And, more importantly, who was I to Travis? Even if I hadn’t overheard her informative greeting earlier, I would have known these two had something going on between them. The sexual tension in the room was thick; I’d have to be blind and stupid not to catch the meaningful glances and silent questions hurling between them...
&nb
sp; Who’s the gimp? I imagined the Amazonian vet asking.
My neighbor, he would reply.
Are you sleeping with her?
Travis’ visual answer to this would be a look that questioned her sanity.
If I had to guess, I’d say the attraction ran deeper on her side than Travis’s if the daggers she was sending my way were any indication. I wondered if her eyes were always that green, or if it was just the jealousy.
“And who are you?” she finally asked, out loud and directed toward me. Apparently, Travis’s silent eye contact hadn’t sufficiently answered her questions.
“She’s my neighbor,” Travis said quickly, obviously wanting to clear that up right away. Hey, can I call them or what? I told myself it didn’t matter. Because it didn’t. I had no claim on Travis, nor did I want to.
She took off her gloves and shot an appraising glance my way. “You hit the dog?”
“No,” Travis answered again. “Magners did.” Another deliberately placed comment that spoke volumes. She’s not with me, she’s with Magners, he might have said instead. That’s what I heard, anyway.
Green eyes narrowed slightly at me. I faced her head-on, deciding that I, too, should take part in this non-vocal group discussion. I am no threat to you, my eyes said back in a way that only another woman would understand.
She nodded almost imperceptibly and retracted her claws. “I can patch him up, but he’s going to require a lot of care for a few weeks. You sure you want that?”
“I’m sure,” I said firmly.
“All right.” Maybe, just maybe, there was a glimmer of approval there somewhere. “Give me a couple of hours.”
I nodded my thanks and turned to Travis. “Can you give me a ride back to my place?”
He studied my face like he was looking for a trap. He was wasting his time; I had no hidden agenda. Grateful as I was for his help, I didn’t want him to think I expected more. I didn’t. As a matter of fact, the best thing he could do was drop me off at my place and go about his own business. I’d clean up a bit, then bring my Jeep back and pick up my new charge.
“How about I just stick around?” he suggested finally.
I felt the vet watching our exchange with great interest and shook my head. The last thing I needed is to be in the middle of this – whatever it was - between them. “Not necessary.”
I saw his jaw working. “Doesn’t make sense to make another trip when we’re already here.”
“I appreciate your help, but I’m sure you have better things to do.”
Substantial arms crossed over an equally substantial chest and he shot me a defiant glare that dared me to challenge him. “I don’t.”
I blew out a breath. I was not fighting this battle with him, not in front of Red Sugar, as I’d silently dubbed her. “Suit yourself.”
His eyes widened just a bit; I think he was surprised by my easy agreement. “Good. Come on. We can grab something to eat while we wait.”
Oh, hell no. If he wanted to waste his time hanging around while Red Sugar did her thing, that was his prerogative. But there was no way in hell I was going anywhere with him, especially not to Mabel’s Diner. It had been a long time, but I still remembered that place.
Shivers ran up and down the length of my spine as I recalled the last time I’d been there. The social worker who came to get me thought buying me lunch and ice cream might make up for the fact that I’d been locked in a damp, dark basement for a week. The locals had set upon us like flies on honey, smelling a bit of juicy gossip. Granted, that had been a long time ago, but what if someone recognized me?
I had no desire to replay that particular scene, which was exactly why I avoided coming into town like the plague. Besides, I didn’t want anyone getting the wrong impression. Arrive anywhere in public with a man like Travis Maxwell and tongues would be wagging. Except here, of course. I think the less Red Sugar saw or heard of me, the better, and on that, we were both in agreement.
“You go. I’m staying right here.”
It was his turn to decide whether or not he wanted a full-out pissing contest before witnesses. He drilled me with a look that had probably made people crumble under the sheer intensity of it. To his credit, he did have the whole dominant alpha male thing going on.
Had I been a lesser woman, I might have capitulated. As I was made of stronger stuff, however, I glared right back. I’m sure he thought my earlier tears and plea for help had broken down some kind of barrier between us, but I would rectify that. Especially now that Red Sugar had staked her claim.
I crossed my arms over my chest, mimicking his earlier stance. No doubt I didn’t look nearly as impressive as he did.
His jaw ground again, and I realized that meant he was pissed. Tough.
I was the first to end our face-off. There was nothing to be gained. I wasn’t going to give in and neither was he, so I turned and went into the small waiting room, settling myself on one of the faded, but surprisingly comfortable chairs in the far corner.
“Tell me when he’s good to go,” I said, directing the words toward Red Sugar. Then I tilted my head back and closed my eyes.
It took a while, but eventually, I heard Travis mumble something and leave. Only then did I fully release the breath I’d been holding.
I must have nodded off, because the next thing I knew, Red Sugar was nudging me awake. I looked at her with sleepy eyes. “He’s ready. Uh, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
She didn’t need to, either. All I cared about was getting my dog and getting the hell out of here. It was only then I realized I didn’t have my wallet. Damn Travis Maxwell. If he’d have taken me back when I’d asked, I would have remembered to grab some cash.
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t think to bring my wallet.”
She studied me closely. “That’s okay. Travis has already taken care of everything.”
Travis was standing by the door, daring me to object. I opened my mouth, but what could I say? It was probably better this way; I really didn’t want to have to come back and face her again. I could pay back Travis without ever having to see him.
“Thank you. For saving him.”
She smirked. “It is kind of what I do.” She handed me a stack of papers. “Here are some care instructions. Bring him back in a week or so, sooner if he doesn’t show any signs of improvement.”
I nodded, but we both knew I wouldn’t be back except under the direst of circumstances. I think she was just as relieved as I was.
Travis
“So, what are you going to call him?” I asked. Clarissa held the sleeping dog in her lap, stroking his head with a gentleness that made my chest hurt. Thank God the dog hadn’t died. Clearly, he was stronger than I gave him credit for.
“Ripper,” she said quietly.
“Ripper?” I repeated, somewhat shocked. “Why?”
She shrugged those delicate, feminine shoulders. “It fits.”
I had to admit, she had a point. The thing was big and ugly, just like the kind of dog you’d expect to find in a junkyard. But when the mutt had woken up a little while ago, I swear I saw love in his eyes. He’d licked her hand, then nuzzled himself closer to her and fallen back asleep. Then again, if I’d woken up in post-op to find Clarissa holding me like that, I probably would have done the same thing.
We rode along in silence up the dark mountain road. I kept the speed down, not wanting to jar the dog, who had to be sore as hell. And maybe I wasn’t ready to part company with my neighbor just yet. I didn’t want to dwell on the whys of that, though.
“He didn’t stop,” she said finally, to no one in particular. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out she was referring to Magners, the prick. If there was any good that came out of this, it was that I was pretty sure if Magners ever set foot on her property again she’d pump that BB gun up to the max and shoot him on sight. If I didn’t see him first, that was.
“No,” I agreed.
“But you
did.”
I felt her gaze on me now, a tangible thing. I don’t know what surprised me more – the fact that it felt like a warm caress or that it incited a tingling in my lower regions. It was a look, for Christ’s sake.
“You asked.”
The warmth faded almost immediately and a quick side glance confirmed that she was looking back down at the dog. “I’m sorry.”
Christ. Leave it to me to say the one thing guaranteed to shut her down – a reminder that my I-don’t-need-anyone neighbor had actually asked for my help. I didn’t want her to regret it. I know I said I didn’t want anyone expecting anything from me, but damn it, she was different. If she needed me, I wanted to be there. And wasn’t that little epiphany just a twist to the nuts?
“Don’t be. I would have helped anyway.”
I don’t know if saying that made a difference or not. The damage had already been done. She didn’t look at me again, nor did she say anything else for the rest of the trip home.
I didn’t ask if she wanted help getting the dog settled because I knew she would more than likely say no. So I didn’t give her a choice. I unloaded everything from the back of my truck and carried it into her place. Then, also without asking, I took the dog right out of her hands.
“Get everything set up the way you want. I’ve got him.”
She looked as though she wanted to protest, but even she had to realize it would be much easier if I held the dog while she created a comfy nest for him with the stuff I’d bought. Yeah, so what if I spent some cash on a big, fluffy gel cushion, some bowls, food, and maybe a couple of chew toys?
While I waited, I took the opportunity to check out her place. You can tell a lot about a person by their living space, and I suddenly wanted to know everything I could about Clarissa Sullivan.
She’d kept the place rustic. The tones were all earthy and neutral – shades of browns and greens and golds. Not a very feminine color scheme, but she’d softened things up with an abundance of pillows, throws and area rugs and what my mom used to call “doilies”. It was warm and welcoming without offending my male sensibilities.
The Realist Page 4
