Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology

by Lisa Mondello

  He shook his head side-to-side.

  Disappointment collected in the back of her throat like a bitter pill. The chill of the night and mixed emotions that had been playing tag between them all day made her throw up her hands in frustration. “Fine. I’m a hot mess and I need a good night’s sleep. But just to be clear, I’m not imagining this thing between us, right?”

  He repeated the motion.

  She looked skyward at the thick blanket of crystal pinpoints—more stars than she’d known existed in LA. “Now, you’re the strong silent type. Great. I’m going to bed.”

  Before she could flounce away in drama-queen fashion, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Heat radiated between them like a small sun. The taste of him made her crave more. So much more, but he ended the kiss just as abruptly as he’d started it.

  She swayed, trying to regain her equilibrium. “Wow. That was a million-dollar lottery win compared to the sleepy, wake-up kiss this morning.”

  Did I say that out loud?

  “I’ve gotta go. I’m working at Sam’s all week. I’ll call when I get a break, and see how Miss V is doing. And I’ll swing by on my way home to help with her meds, okay?”

  She nodded, her heart still recovering from the best freaking kiss of her whole life.

  “The Jeep seems to be running okay. The keys are in it. Will you text me if you hear anything from Donnie?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  His features scrunched in a questioning look.

  She started to touch his face, but dropped her hand. “For today. For introducing me to Ida Jane and Jenny. For Miss Valentine. For everything.”

  He tapped his finger to the brim of his hat, did an about-face, and walked away.

  She whistled for the dogs and went inside. Making love with TJ would have been wonderful. Hot. Crazy. Exciting. But afterward she would have had to handle the myriad questions, expectations, obligations, and disappointments that were sure to follow.

  “Thanks for not taking me up on my offer, cowboy,” she murmured under her breath. “Miss Valentine might think we belong together, but she’s a donkey. Since when do I take dating advice from a donkey?”

  But…Valentine’s Day. My first since the divorce.

  As soon as she’d shed her boots, coat, and extra sweater, she opened the calendar on her phone. “Yep. Sunday.” Maybe she’d invite TJ to come to dinner on Saturday night.

  “Two single people. Alone on the most romantic night of the year. What do you think, boys?” she asked the dogs. “Good idea?”

  Both dogs watched her as if food would be forthcoming.

  Rocky’s bark sounded nervous, not affirmative.

  Titus dropped to the floor and let out a long sigh.

  “Humph. Forget dogs. I’m going with the wisdom of the donk.”

  Her Cowboy Valentine: Chapter 9

  Paige couldn’t believe how fast her first week in Prospect Creek flew by.

  Besides caring for Miss Valentine and the other animals, she’d driven the Jeep—which steered like a bumper car ride at an amusement park—into town twice to pick up deliveries of her proper mountain clothing, cowboy boots, and thermal underwear.

  She’d enjoyed finding her way around the humble little town of Prospect Creek. She’d even re-visited the mining and mineral museum she’d vaguely recalled from her first visit. Her days had been full.

  Her nights? Far less interesting. Unless she counted the sexy dreams with her hot cowboy lover. The same cowboy who pulled into Aunt Betty’s every afternoon at five-thirty.

  She’d join him in the barn where together they’d give Miss V her meds, take turns feeling her belly to check on the baby, and spoil her with little chunks of banana, carrots, or beets.

  “I think she’s bipolar,” Paige told him when he showed up after work on Monday. “When you’re here, she’s a docile little poster-donkey. When I walked into her stall in the morning to refresh her hay and water, she tried to nip me.”

  “Maybe it was a love bite. She’s feeling stronger and feisty. This is a good thing. Betty will be proud of you.”

  “Speaking of Betty, have you heard from her lately? Not so much as a text here. The dogs are very put out.”

  His grin—the one she’d been dreaming of for days--made her knees give a bit. “Is that right? Do you want me to take them to the mine for a few days?”

  The idea gutted her. “No. I like the company,” she admitted.

  Why that admission seemed to please him she had no idea. It wasn’t like she was applying for the job of girlfriend and having a healthy relationship with pets was a prerequisite. Heck, she couldn’t even get him to stay for dinner.

  For the first few days, she’d invited him to stick around for a beer or a bite to eat Every evening, he always had an excuse.

  “Huge lunch around four.”

  “Stew in the crockpot.”

  “Promised myself a couple of hours in the tunnel.”

  Today, she wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  She handed him a red envelope.

  He looked it over, front and back. The only inscription was the large: TJ.

  “What’s this?”

  “An invitation. Valentine’s Eve dinner. Here.”

  “Saturday night?”

  She nodded, holding her breath for another rejection.

  “Umm…okay.” He opened his heavy leather jacket and slipped it into a pocket in the shearling liner. “Thanks.”

  Okay. Now, what to fix?

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  “Coquilles Saint-Jacques. What the hell was I thinking?”

  She knew the recipe by heart, but finding the ingredients in the little Pioneer Market had been a hunt for any passable substitution. Salted butter, instead of the imported unsalted variety she usually used. Frozen scallops, of course. No fresh to be had for fifty miles. Dried tarragon, not fresh. Regular white mushrooms instead of her desired white buttons.

  But the real test came when it came to lighting the broiler.

  “I give up,” she said when she opened the door for her guest. “I can’t figure out how to light the broiler.”

  He held out both hands—a bright, cheerful, grocery store bouquet in one, and a bottle of white wine in the other.

  “Oh, thank you so much. These are lovely.”

  She stepped back to usher him in. After giving her the gifts, he stooped to pet the dogs even before taking off his gorgeous wool coat. Brad had a similar one, but TJ’s looked tailored for him. She hadn’t expected him to dress up, but slim black jeans, highly polished boots, and white button-down shirt made him look like a western fashion model.

  “Wow. You look…amazing.”

  He hung his hat on a hook by the door. “Thanks. So do you. And whatever you’re cooking smells fabulous.”

  She poked her nose in the flowers to hide her blush. When was the last time I dressed up for someone? Other than a funeral, it was too long ago to recall. She handed him the wine bottle when he came toward her. “Fridge? I have one open in a slightly dinged up bucket on the table, if you’d like a glass. I also picked up a couple of kinds of beer.”

  His smile seemed more like the one she remembered from that first night in the barn. Curious. Interested. “Wine sounds good.”

  “Your glass is on the table.”

  He walked a few steps, his heels making a crisp snap on the manufactured flooring before coming to an abrupt stop. “Whoa. I’ve had a million meals at this table and it’s never looked like this. Did you bring these plates with you?”

  She carried the flowers to the sink. “On loan from Ida Jane. She calls herself the ‘world’s oldest romantic.’ Do you know where Betty keeps her vases?”

  He picked up his cut crystal wine stem and twirled it back and forth to catch the reflection from the tall pink candles. “Yes. I do, actually.” He set down the glass and walked to the back door. A few seconds later, he returned with a pretty, art deco-styled vase. “I think she got this from Ida Jane, too.�
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  “It’s perfect. Thanks.”

  When she had the flowers arranged to her satisfaction, she carried the vase to the table. “Gerbera daisies are one of my favorites. Thank you.”

  He filled his wine glass and topped off hers, which he held for her while she slipped off Betty’s apron. “A toast to the most beautiful chef I’ve ever met.”

  They clinked discreetly. “Thank you. Everything’s ready except I need to finish the scallops under the broiler.”

  He took a taste and seemed to savor it. “Very nice.”

  After another sip, he returned his glass to the table and walked to the stove, which looked like a rank amateur had prepared a seven-course meal, not a simple dish with two sides and a dessert that had been in the freezer for hours.

  “Oh, right. I remember how cantankerous this beast could be for Betty. I offered to buy her a new one, but she told me, “I have money, son. That’s not the point. The point is to keep old stuff around to remind people it still has value.”

  “I can appreciate that, but I really missed my Thermador.”

  He had it lit in seconds.

  He told her the latest news about Miss Valentine while she finished putting the sides into serving dishes.

  “Long story short, the guy wept like a baby when Donnie confronted him. Said he knew his wife was cheating on him, so he stole her donkey to get back at her. Apparently that brainstorm came after a good deal of alcohol.”

  “Ya think?” She cracked the door and an aromatic heat wave hit her. “How’d the beating come about?”

  “He swears he never hit her. Claims she broke free after kicking him hard enough to bruise a rib and ran off.”

  “Could her wounds have been from thorns or a coyote attack?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll never know. Donnie said he looked around but didn’t see any evidence of a whip. Either the guy isn’t as dumb as we thought or he’s telling the truth.”

  “What’s going to happen to her?”

  “Donnie got him to sign off on the donkey’s ownership papers. The wife told Donnie she never wanted the donkey in the first place, but her husband wouldn’t listen to her. Miss Valentine is free to find a forever home.” He made the statement with some pride and sense of accomplishment.

  “That’s…um, wonderful news. Thanks for following through.”

  She carefully withdrew the very hot cookie sheet with four scallop-shell baking dishes--another great find at the Old Bordello--from the oven and carried it to the trivet on the table. Each a delicious smelling, golden browned bubbly cheese perfection; she held her breath as she carefully transferred two to each plate without losing a single scallop.

  “Come sit down. Will Betty let Miss V and the baby stay here?”

  He pulled out her chair and waited until she was settled before taking his place across from her.

  “This looks and smells fantastic. I don’t think I’ve ever had scallops this way before.” He topped off their wine glasses, as he returned to her question. “Hard to say what’s gonna happen to them. Betty’s downsized a lot since this time last year. I don’t know what she has in mind.”

  Paige’s appetite fled to the barn where their little survivor awaited the next whims of fate.

  Faking a smile, she got up. “I forgot the sides. I’ll be right back with green beans almandine and parmesan orzo.”

  Not thinking about this tonight. When she took the chair across from him again, he lifted his glass. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I have to admit this is the first I’ve celebrated in a very long time.”

  His smile warmed her heart and, for a second, made her hope for a happy ending—at least, for one night—of her own.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  The crazy nerves bugging him all day disappeared with the first bite of the delicious meal Paige had fixed. Somehow, in less than a dozen days, Paige had made Betty’s home her own. Everywhere he looked, he spotted her. Not the duck-out-of-water city girl, rather the woman who was her father’s daughter. The dogs rested at her feet, not even begging for exotic morsels from the sea. The chickens returned to their roost at her whistle. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it firsthand.

  Beautiful, accomplished, and real. He’d avoided her overtures all week because he knew himself too well. His heart teetered on the precipice. He could fall…any second…hard. Eight-seconds on the back of the baddest bull in the business hard.

  He mopped his last hunk of white scallop in the rich, savory sauce and popped it in his mouth. After chewing and swallowing, he pushed back in his chair to pat his tummy. “Best meal ever.”

  Her pretty cheeks turned pink. “Thank you. I didn’t have time to make crepes, but I bought cherry chocolate chip ice cream.”

  He gathered up their plates and rose. “No rush. I’m stuffed.”

  She leaned over to blow out the candles. The angle gave him a quick glimpse of a lacy pink bra lovingly cupping her perfect breasts. His body reacted like a teenager with his first crush.

  He hurried to the sink, trying to redirect his libido in another direction. But his fertile mind had them kissing, and then waltzing in a blind haze of passion down the hallway to fall into Betty’s bed.

  Betty’s bed? Erp. His ardor hit the wall. “Bad image.”

  She joined him with a fistful of silverware in one hand and their wine glasses in the other. “Pardon?”

  Go big or pound dirt. “Any chance you’d like to go home with me tonight?”

  She dropped the silverware into the sink with a clatter; the glasses wobbled like saplings in a windstorm. Her lips were close enough to kiss. Her eyes close enough to read an all-too-familiar debate in her mind. She inhaled deeply, drawing his gaze downward.

  “Yes.”

  He set down the plates and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands. “Really?”

  “We’re single, unattached adults. I’m sure Betty’s left the dogs alone overnight, hasn’t she?”

  Had she? He couldn’t remember. “Sure.”

  “Okay. Will you drive me home early enough to let the chickens out and feed Miss Valentine?”

  “Absolutely.” He pulled her to him. “You’ll be my first.”

  She blinked. “First what?”

  “Sleepover friend at my place.”

  Her grin made his heart pound so hard he was sure she must hear it. “Gotta warn you, though. The cabin isn’t done. But I have a steam shower in my shop and the toy hauler is clean and cozy.”

  She settled her body comfortably against his, like they’d danced this dance a million times. “Contrary to a certain blogger’s diatribe, I am not a materialistic social climber, who only cares about myself. I’d love to see your place. No judgment.”

  He kissed her to keep from saying the words he knew she wasn’t ready to hear: I love you.

  Her arms tightened around his middle for a few seconds then she eased back. “I should change and throw a few things into a bag. And I need to check on Miss V before we leave. Doc thinks her time might be close. Maybe I should follow you in the Jeep so you don’t have to come back down the hill in the morning?”

  He caught a wrist and pulled her back into his arms. “Warm clothes and boots are a good idea, but you’re my date. You’ll ride with me.” He kissed her firmly to make sure she got the message, and then let her go. “I’ll finish here while you change, then we’ll drive to the barn before we head up the hill.”

  A bemused look on her face accompanied a quick salute before she dashed down the hallway—dogs right behind her.

  When she returned in skinny jeans, proper new boots, and a thick fleece the color of a fine merlot, he had treats set out for the dogs and was holding Rex, who for some inexplicable, cat reason liked TJ.

  Paige stopped abruptly, blinking in surprise.

  “That cat hasn’t let me anywhere near him.”

  He gave the big cat another stroke then bent over to set him on the floor. “I’m not a cat person, but for some reason he thinks I am. Ready?�
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  “Shall I bring the rest of our wine?”

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Won’t need it. I promise.”

  After she locked Betty’s door, they dashed to his truck, which he’d started remotely to warm up. The drive to the barn took a dozen seconds. He thought about waiting in the truck while she checked on Miss Valentine but decided that was a bit cavalier given how much he owed the little donkey for bringing him and Paige together.

  “Umm…something’s not right here, TJ.” Paige motioned for him to hurry. “Do you think she’s in labor?”

  TJ didn’t need Doc to tell him his plans for a night of love and romance just flew out the barn door. “Yep. Our little girl is about to become a mother.”

  Paige grabbed his arm as her knees gave out.

  “Whoa. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “I was hoping Doc was wrong and she’d deliver after Betty got home.”

  Holding her by her upper arms, he waltzed her into the light. Pale face. Clammy hands.

  He pulled over the five-gallon paint bucket he’d used the other night and helped her sit. Kneeling before her, he chafed her icy hands. “What’s going on?”

  “Can you…h…handle this? I-I…can’t. No. Just…no.”

  Her reaction reminded him of PTSD. “It’s perfectly natural. She shouldn’t need any help. Unless something—”

  “Goes wrong,” Paige filled in, her voice flat and stark.

  “Paige, talk to me. What happened to you?”

  She took a shaky breath. “My baby. Hard labor. Fifteen hours. I knew something was wrong. Doctor didn’t listen. First time mom. Routine. No problem. Until the baby’s heart monitor went crazy. Emergency C-section. I’d never even heard the term NICU before they rushed my baby to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.”

  He didn’t recognize it, either, but he had ICU memories of his own.

  “She was perfect. Except for the fact she couldn’t breathe on her own. Two surgeries inflicted on that tiny body. She tried her best, but they couldn’t fix what was broken.” She looked up, her eyes awash in tears. “They let me hold her until she passed. Brad didn’t make it back to the hospital in time.”