“Come,” Olivia said, waving him over. “Take a break.”
“Have you seen them? They’re so cute!”
“I have,” Olivia said. “You’re doing a great job with them.”
Tyler, like all the kids who made it past the first few weeks at Sanctuary Ranch, adored Olivia. Worshipped her. She was the queen bee they wanted to serve, the head honcho, the big cheese, the mother they’d never had but always wanted in a home they’d never known to dream of.
As much as Gideon wanted to, he couldn’t hate Lana. She was Blake’s mother, and despite everything that had gone between them, he never doubted her love for the boy.
Hudson, however, was another story.
“What’s up with Apollo, Honch?” Tyler wiped his face with his sleeve, leaving a streak of dust on his cheekbone.
“You giving him his rations?” She patted the big horse’s rump, then made her way over his back, down his legs, to his neck and head, her hands measuring body condition, the roughness of his coat, feeling for injuries, bruises, and inflammation.
“Yes, Olivia,” he said. He itemized the amounts of hay, grain, and supplements, as well as the amount of time Apollo was allowed out to graze. Gideon was impressed.
“He’s getting daily access to the north pasture?” Olivia asked.
“The north pasture?” Tyler frowned. “I’ve been exercising him in the corral.”
She frowned. “I specified the north pasture. It’s for grazing, not exercise. No wonder he’s not putting on weight.”
The boy flushed scarlet. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I did what Gideon told me to do.”
Gideon held out the clipboard. “You’re supposed to ask if you’ve got questions.”
His jaw tilted forward. He balled his fists, his knees loose, his stance ready. “I did what you fuh”—he shot a quick look at Olivia—“freaking told me to do.”
“Ease up, man,” Gideon said. “Everyone makes mistakes.” He suspected that Tyler had an undiagnosed learning disability. Kids like him learned quickly to cover their weakness, to avoid situations—like school—that would spotlight it. To come out swinging in the face of criticism.
“Thank you, Tyler. You can go back to mucking the stalls,” Olivia said. “You’re doing a fine job.”
Gideon watched the boy escape back to the refuge of the storeroom, where the kittens were. “I should have caught that.”
“No big deal. I’m sure Apollo will perk up once he starts getting more fresh air.” She pursed her lips, then turned on her heel and left Apollo’s stall. “Walk with me.”
Gideon’s senses went on alert, but he followed her, closing the stall door carefully behind him. You couldn’t push Olivia. She’d say her piece when she was ready.
Olivia climbed through the fence and headed toward the slope overlooking the ocean. A footpath wound through it, and in nice weather, it made a pleasant hike to Sunset Bay, taking in blue water and fresh, salty air.
Today, the water reflected the dull, metallic grey of the clouds. The air felt weighted, as if iron filings hung from the stars, tiny, sharp, unseen, but ready to draw blood at the first movement.
“Sit.” She patted the ground beside her.
He hunkered down, but kept several feet between them. Olivia was his employer, and as much as this place had saved him, he strove to remember that business was business. People like Daphne liked to call them family at Sanctuary Ranch, but that simply wasn’t true.
She got right to the point. “Even before Hudson arrived, you’ve been distracted, Gideon. You’re not yourself. Haylee’s noticed it too. Tyler’s not the only one avoiding you. Duke stays out of your way. Sage says there’s a black cloud around you.”
“I barely even see Sage.” He couldn’t bear to watch the happily ever after going on with Haylee and her daughter and granddaughter. Haylee hadn’t even wanted a relationship with the kid she’d given up for adoption. And she’d been afraid of the baby, Gideon had seen it.
He knew what that felt like.
“Sage makes sure of that. She doesn’t want negative energy around Sal.”
“I don’t have negative energy.” But hadn’t Lana said something similar?
Olivia gave a little laugh. “You’re quieter than usual. You disappear after meals with hardly a word to anyone. I think Jamie’s worried, too. It was a lovely thing you did, buying the mustang. She’s going to be thrilled.” She paused. “Did you two have a fight or something?”
Or something.
“No fight.” Gideon looked out over the valley, as the first few spots of mist dampened his forehead. He didn’t want to talk about Jamie. Even the horse might not be enough to get back in her good books, given how he’d been treating her lately.
But he couldn’t tell Olivia about how, since that afternoon at Driftwood Creek, he hadn’t been able to get the scent of her silky skin out of his mind, the feel of her lean flesh, how the only way to keep the wanting under control, to stay sane, was to avoid her and that was his own damn fault for letting himself get close to her in the first place.
How he had a choice to make: Jamie or Blake. And the choice could only ever be his son.
He cleared his throat. “I’m still dealing with those . . . family issues I mentioned. That’s all.”
Olivia lifted her face to the clouds, a soft smile on her face, as if she loved nothing more than sitting outside on the damp ground. “Elliot Hudson’s part of that.”
“Yeah.”
She had her eyes closed, and Gideon took the opportunity to observe her. Serenity emanated from her weathered skin, her sun-bleached hair, her wiry limbs, her calloused hands. He’d seen her in the mornings, walking hand-in-hand with Gayle before the day began, their love steady, tender, remarkable.
Enviable.
Her serenity was hard-won. Maybe he could learn from her. He gritted his teeth, then exhaled and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Hudson’s marrying the woman I used to live with. We had . . . have . . . a son. They want . . . she wants her fiancé to adopt him. Wants me out.”
“And you want?”
“Not that! They’re the whole reason I moved here, but it’s taken me almost two years to convince her, to convince myself, that I deserve a chance to know him.”
Above them, a hawk circled, crying its mournful call. “And Jamie?” Olivia asked.
He shook his head, picturing the slender length of her throat, how it moved when she laughed, how often he’d yearned to press his mouth to the hollow at the base. “That can’t happen. It can’t.”
She made a small noise in the back of her throat. “Interesting choice of words.”
“We’re friends. I care for her. She knows that.” He shifted his position on the rocky hillside. They’d both have damp spots on their jeans if they stayed much longer.
“You’re a terrible liar, Gideon.”
He forced himself not to move. She was always so damn perceptive. He had to allay those suspicions. Turning it around on her might be the only way to do it.
“Okay,” he said. “She’s twenty-six, with a rough past and a desperate craving for a happy ending. I’m almost thirty-five, with a record, an ex-lover, and a kid I hardly know.”
He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly.
“Long odds, no matter how you cut it.” Olivia sighed. “She knows about the boy?”
“Ah, hell.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face. “She does now. I should have told her. She overheard me talking to Lana. That’s why she’s pissed.”
“Hurt,” Olivia said. “Not pissed.”
Despite being only a decade or so ahead of him, she spoke with the authority of a woman much older, with strength far exceeding mere age or experience. She cared, which made her dangerous.
He looked at the clouds building above them. The arrival of Lana’s letter had torn away a carefully glued piece of his life, like a piece of plywood nailed over a broken window, ripped by a tsunami, letting the wat
ers of destruction into the simple home he’d built for himself.
“I’m sorry, Olivia.” He stood up, his boots slipping slightly on the grass. “I never meant to hurt anyone. Least of all Jamie. But I don’t have a choice here.”
She turned then and reached out. He took her hand and helped her to her feet, and when she was standing, she did not release his hand but squeezed it lightly, as if aware of the storm crashing inside him. “We always have choices. Whatever you need regarding your son, just ask. This is your home, Gideon. Okay?”
His throat closed. “Thanks,” he said, hoarsely.
“Don’t shut Jamie out. That’s all I’m saying.” Olivia nudged him with her shoulder and they began walking back along the path to the house. A coyote howled in the distance and others joined him, their eerie cry lifting the hair on his arms.
Gideon thought of the feral cat, devoured while her kittens lay mewling in hunger beneath the bales. Of Apollo, standing year after year alone in a stall, of the bland-faced steers in the finishing pasture, fat and happy, unaware of the fate that awaited them.
He thought of Jamie and her eternal optimism, how she believed the best of everyone, even him, even when all the evidence spoke against it.
“Hey.” Olivia leaned over sideways and nudged him again. Her voice was devastatingly kind. “Don’t shut any of us out, okay? Me, Gayle, Haylee, Daphne, Huck. And especially Jamie. We’re here for you. Maybe, if you let us, we can help.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sometimes, enough’s enough. Today, nothing is
too much.
—Jamie’s horoscope
“James, can you help me?” Haylee waved at Jamie from the doorway of the kennel room late the next afternoon.
Jamie paused, surprised. “I’m on my way to supper prep. What do you need?”
“You’ll see.”
She’d been keeping out of Haylee’s way, unsure of when and how to tell her about Chaos and what she’d learned about Roman Byers.
And then there was the Gideon situation. By now, everyone knew he was trying to get access to his son and that Elliot Hudson’s visit had been a reconnaissance mission, looking for dirt to use against Gideon.
There had been a general upswell of support. In fact, Daphne had offered to pay a return visit to Hudson, along with her rolling pin. Everyone had laughed. Jamie had volunteered to join her.
She ached for Gideon as day after day went by and his face remained closed and tight. Lana must be putting him through the wringer.
She followed Haylee inside, hoping her friend wouldn’t bring up the subject. Jamie wasn’t exactly an armored vehicle, when it came to her feelings, and if Haylee caught a whiff, she’d poke until it all came out. Jamie wasn’t ready for that.
“Oy vey,” she said, looking at the grooming stand. “Is there a dog under there somewhere?”
On the table, hunched and shivering, stood a mass of matted, dirty-white fur. A pair of eyes blinked warily out from the head end.
“Believe it or not.” Haylee tugged the waterproof apron over her baby bump.
“Poor baby.” Jamie put her hand out to let the poor animal sniff it.
“I feel like Michelangelo, except my David is a standard poodle and my clay is that disgusting mess you see.” Haylee wrinkled her nose. “Can you talk to her while I get this gunk off her back end? Can Daphne do without you for a few minutes?”
Jamie looked toward the main house. She was on the schedule for the evening meal, but earlier, she’d heard the cook giving instructions to Sage.
“Daphne’s got plenty of help.” She didn’t miss peeling vegetables one bit. But it rankled that she’d been so handily replaced. “What happened to your ban on rescues?”
“I know, I know.” Haylee rolled her eyes and picked up her clippers. “But Aiden brought me this one. She was found by paramedics in the house of an elderly deceased woman. A bad situation, the woman was a hoarder, a recluse, no family, no friends. This wasn’t the only dog. She may have been part of a puppy mill.”
“Oh, you poor soul.” Jamie found a spot on the dog’s muzzle that wasn’t matted solid and gave it a rub. “How bad was it?”
A few years ago, she’d volunteered at a Seattle shelter that had been part of a puppy mill bust. Wire crates stacked on top of each other, the dogs on top suffering sore feet from the wire bottoms, the dogs in the lowest crates having excrement rained onto them.
“Besides this one,” Haylee said, “they found a male chained to a tire in a shed outside, an older bitch who looked like she’d just weaned a litter and two dams with nursing puppies. Those are all staying with Janice while they recover.”
Jamie put her face closer to the dog. “She’s a sweetheart.” The dog blinked and lowered her head, her ears flat in submission. “Can you do her face first, so she can see properly?”
“Good thinking.”
A few swipes later, the crusted mats lay on the floor and they got their first good look at the creature’s soft, friendly face.
“You’re beautiful,” Jamie said as the dog licked her hand with the delicacy of a princess. “At least, you will be.”
She had lovely bone structure, a good strong muzzle, not harsh but not snipey either. Bright eyes showing intelligence and, amazingly, trust. She put her head against the dog’s freshly shaven muzzle and made baby-talk noises to her. The dog wagged her clotted tail, her body lighting up at the affection.
“You do have a way of bringing out the best in them.” Haylee picked up the dog’s feet one after the other, watching for a reaction. The dog didn’t resist, which was a good sign. She held her muzzle and examined her face. The skin beneath her eyes was red and angry looking. When she lifted the left ear, the dog yelped and pulled away.
Jamie turned away from the rotten, fermented smell that wafted up. “Man, that is one nasty ear.”
When she looked back at Haylee, she noticed a greenish tinge to her cheeks. “You okay?”
Haylee nodded tightly.
“Want me to look at it?”
“Would you?” Haylee pressed the knuckles of her left hand against her nose. “Baby does not like that smell one bit.”
Carefully, Jamie lifted the filthy, matted hair, seeking the canal hidden beneath it, testing the leather for warmth.
“Infected?” Haylee asked.
“Almost certainly.” She checked the other side. “This one’s better though, lots of wax and dirt but no pus.”
“Okay, let’s get this done fast so I can put my feet up. I’ll do a rough clip first. It’ll be hell on my blades, but it’s the only way. Then, if you’ve got time, we can bathe her. I’ll do a finish clip and scissor after that.”
She turned on the clippers behind her back, to muffle the sound, but the dog darted and backed away, her long claws scratching against the rubber surface. Jamie held her tight enough to keep her from hurting herself, but loosely enough so she wouldn’t panic.
“It’s okay, baby,” she crooned, breathing through her mouth. “What are we going to call her?”
“Sweetie, baby, lovey.” Haylee held the dog’s back leg, stroking and patting. “Doesn’t matter. Once she looks like a poodle again, and Janice gives her a clean bill of health, we’ll have no trouble finding her a forever home. They’ll give her a name.”
As the poodle quivered, a heavy mat hanging off her flank rocked back and forth, tugging on the thin skin. Jamie couldn’t wait until it was off, but dreaded what they might find under it.
Fleas, ticks, ringworm. Hot spots. Maggots.
Jamie’s heart went out to the creature quaking in front of them. So much untapped potential. Such a waste. “Or,” she said, “we could train her to be another therapy dog. Jewel’s getting older, you know. Maybe, um, you could train me and her to do what you and Jewel do.”
It was going to hurt when she brought Chaos back. She’d gotten attached, as Gideon had predicted. And then what? She had so much love to give and no one to give it to.
“Mayb
e in spring.” Haylee grunted and bent over, massaging her belly. “I can’t even think about it right now.”
A spark of disappointment flared, and Jamie waited for it to fade away. She shouldn’t have hoped for a different response. She hugged the poodle, feeling the warm heartbeat against her arm. The dog would find a good home somewhere. Haylee would see to that.
It was probably for the best. Things were fine as they were. She had work she enjoyed. A place to lay her head. A small but growing bank account.
So why the emptiness? She wished she could go back to how she’d felt a year ago, before Hannibal the mastiff-cross had sparked her own ambition. Before she’d messed up things with Gideon. Before he’d decided to do the right thing with his son.
Life had seemed easy then. Uncomplicated.
Sometimes, now, when Jewel lumbered up to Haylee and butted that big head against her thigh, Jamie had to look away. And when Aiden looked at Haylee across the room, his eyes so full of love, Jamie felt like crying.
Sanctuary Ranch was changing.
They would get married eventually. They’d probably get their own place. She and Haylee would be work friends. They’d drift apart.
Daphne barely had time for her anymore, taken up as she was with training Sage and playing with little Sal, who stole everyone’s heart with her drooling smile and dimples and multiple chins.
Worst of all was Gideon.
Even thinking about it made her feel about an inch tall. It wasn’t about her. It was about the boy. And children should always take priority, she knew that as well as anyone. She could never begrudge a child his father.
But it meant that Gideon, too, was moving on.
Moving on. Without her.
Story of her life.
All she wanted was for someone, anyone, to want her above all else.
No. Not anyone. Him. There was no one else for her.
“Speaking of rescues,” Haylee said, “what’s with the puppy in your cabin?”
Her gloomy thoughts vanished. She scrambled for an appropriate response. “Uh . . . oh. You, um, know about him?”
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