A Montana Christmas

by Roxanne Rustand

  He cleared his throat. “You do have our cell numbers. Right?”

  She held up her iPhone. “Plus the clinic and barn numbers, the sheriff’s office and 911 on speed dial. I’ll drop off your dog tomorrow and then go looking for a Tank mini-me at the shelter, so I’ll be fine. No worries!”

  Then she firmly closed and locked the door behind them.

  But on the drive home, he couldn’t shake the feeling that her breezy dismissal was just a show. Right now, she might be nervously pacing through the house listening for suspicious sounds, fearing the approach of a prowler outside. Wishing she’d never come to Salt Creek in the first place.

  He wouldn’t blame her a bit.

  But if she felt threatened and abruptly decided to pack up and leave, what then? He had a feeling he would be losing something very precious. Life-changing. A chance to finally connect with a woman who could be his once-in-a-lifetime love, just like his parents had been for each other until the day they died. Was that even possible?

  Becca was dozing in the passenger seat of his truck, so he glanced heavenward, then whispered a nearly silent prayer. Please, Lord, give me a little more time.

  ALL OF HER BRAVE TALK aside, it took Kristen until almost five in the morning before she finally slipped into an hour of fitful sleep on the fold-away bed Becca and Lane had brought over.

  Like Goldilocks, she’d tried one bedroom after another upstairs.

  The first was too cold.

  The second was too loud—that corner of the old house groaned and creaked loudly as the interior warmed and the outside temps dropped.

  The third bedroom must have been under an old leak in the roof, because the overpowering odor of mustiness made her sneeze.

  In defeat, she lugged the bed downstairs and set it up in the parlor, where she soon felt all too aware of the trio of large, multi-paned windows looking out over the back yard....where someone could easily stand in the darkness and stare right into the room. Unconcerned, Tank curled up next to her makeshift bed and snored the rest of the night away, leaving her to count the pressed aluminum ceiling tiles and long for daybreak.

  On her way out to Six Pines the next morning, she called Eric and left another message. When she pulled to a stop at the vet clinic she tried again, but this time he finally answered.

  “I listened to your message. So you had some trouble last night?” he asked mildly. “Strange. Nothing ever happens in Salt Creek.”

  “Then why are two of the windows boarded up?”

  “Oh, that. The local kids were playing baseball in the back yard last summer, treating it like a city park. I had the sheriff scare them off permanently. No big deal. Have you gotten a better look at that dump?”

  She felt her hackles rise. “A better look, yes, but it’s not a dump—not by a long shot. The woodwork is just beautiful. With a little work—”

  “Okay, then. Knock yourself out.” He said with a dismissive laugh. “But when you’re ready to list, we can talk about what it’s actually worth and go from there. Don’t be surprised if you lose every dollar you spend on it. Real estate in town is really soft right now, and it’s been a buyer’s market for a long time. If you’re smart, you won’t waste your time.”

  “So...what do you think it’s worth, right now?” She caught herself asking too late, instantly regretting her words.

  He snorted. “It’ll cost to bulldoze the house—it adds no real value. For an acre of land, in a little ranching town like this, maybe...twenty grand, but that would be generous.”

  He was not just a smarmy, irritating man, he was a thief. She struggled to rein in her anger. How many people did he cheat over a year’s time? The elderly? The uneducated who trusted a man with his worldly demeanor?

  “I’ve actually done my own research, Eric. Property half this size, bare ground without any mountain views, has recently sold for far more here in town.”

  “But it was in a much better location,” he countered smoothly.

  Actually, it had been a neighboring lot.

  There would be a day when Grandma Tilly’s house had to be listed, but it wouldn’t be with Eric. She was sure of that.

  “My mother kept a file of everything you’ve sent her about the house since Grandma moved to the care center—repairs, maintenance, dates for replacement parts and so on—but she misplaced it during her last move and said I should ask you for copies. I can stop by later today, if that’s convenient, for photocopies of the receipts and such? Or can you just email me a copy of your spreadsheets?”

  Silence.

  “Eric?”

  “Uh...the thing is, my office secretary left a few weeks ago, and I had to fire the one before her because she was so incompetent. A complete disaster.”

  “So you don’t have a secretary. Or an office manager.”

  “Not at the moment. I’m still trying to make sense of the bookkeeping system those two left behind.” A long pause. “But, I have some interviews this afternoon and hopefully can find someone with experience and organizational skills. Someone willing to stay at the job.”

  Wondering if he ever managed to keep any staff for very long, she let a pointed silence lengthen between them.

  He sighed. “But in the meantime, yes—I’ll look around for what you need.”

  She might have doubted his explanation as just a weak excuse, but he sounded so frazzled that she almost believed him. Almost...but not enough to let him off the hook. He was probably making up every word. “Thanks. I’ll stop in tomorrow. Say...nine o’clock?”

  With that, she ended the call, slid out from behind the steering wheel and let Tank out of the back seat of her truck. With his usual exuberance, he streaked in circles around the barnyard before sliding to an ungainly halt at the back of the vet clinic and clawed madly at the back door.

  Lane appeared at the door a second later—probably figuring the furry beast would tear it down if he didn’t hurry—and strode over to meet her with Tank bouncing along at his heels. He searched her face, his eyes filled with concern. “Did you have a good night?”

  Just seeing him in front of her made her skin tingle where he’d grabbed her and pulled her to safety against his chest last night. The memory kicked off a funny little tap-dancing sensation in the vicinity of her heart.

  “Short night, but fine,” she hedged, hoping the heat rising in her cheeks wasn’t a blush. “I just wanted to thank you again for all of your wonderful...uh...help yesterday, and for the loan of your dog. He made me feel much safer.”

  “So now you’re off to the animal shelter?”

  “Next stop. I also did some research online this morning, on home security systems, and called several. The first guy is coming out this afternoon to look things over and give me an estimate.”

  “Good for you. Did you check the shelter’s website to see what sorts of dogs they have? Unfortunately, they often have way too many.”

  She idly ruffled her fingers through Tank’s thick coat and the dog blissfully leaned into her like a tipping sack of potatoes, his tail wagging. “I thought about it, but decided I’d rather go meet them all in person without any preconceived notions. My only worry is that I’ll see too many and will want to take all of them home.”

  “You do have a very roomy house and a huge fenced yard.” Lane’s heart-stopping grin deepened his killer dimples and made his eyes twinkle. “I’d say ‘go for it.’”

  “Bad influence,” she teased back. “Aren’t vets all about responsible pet ownership?”

  “Yep. And I’d guess you fit that to a T. Want some company to help with your decisions?”

  “I heard that.” She laughed. “This is one decision, not multiple. But yes—it would be great to have a second opinion. Though don’t you work on Mondays?”

  “I do. But barring emergency farm calls, it’s usually a lighter day because I work on Saturdays. Let me grab my jacket and put Tank in a kennel.”

  As soon as he disappeared into the clinic, she turned away and wra
pped her arms around her stomach with a groan of embarrassment. What possessed her to start flirting with this guy at every turn?

  She did not want a relationship with anyone. None.

  She was better off alone from here on out, without worrying about disappointments and heartbreak and all of the other emotions that had turned her life upside down two years ago. And she definitely did not feel anticipation and flutters of excitement every time she encountered Lane Creighton.

  If she just kept telling herself that, maybe she’d start to believe it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lane introduced Kristen to Glenda and Phyllis Tompkins at the animal shelter, then followed as the two elderly spinsters gave her a tour. Years ago, they’d generously donated twenty acres of land for the shelter, gave even more towards the building fund, and still happily volunteered nearly full-time. Each time he’d come to donate neuters, spays, and other surgical procedures, they’d positively sparkled with delight and gushed over his generous help, but they were the true treasures of this operation.

  He’d spent a lot of time thinking about Kristen since leaving her house last night, and had thoroughly convinced himself that she was unavailable and uninterested—she’d made that rather clear with as many times as she’d avoided meeting his gaze or kept careful distance between them.

  And he wasn’t really on the market either.

  His long engagement of several years had ended in a friendly departure and few regrets; hardly the stuff of a great romance. If he’d really been meant to find the love of his life, surely it would’ve happened before now, at thirty-five. And was that so bad? He had a good dog, a career he loved, and a great extended family, so what else did he need? He was content with all of the blessings in his life and needed nothing more.

  But now, as he followed the elderly sisters and Kristen into the cement block shelter, he felt a helpless grin take over his face and felt his heart start to warm as he watched Kristen’s face light up as she passed each cage and engage in an animated conversation with the sisters about each animal.

  He found himself judging her interest, wondering if she was like so many clients who only wanted cute, fun little puppies, or preferred a dog that would be an elegant, impressive statement piece in the house.

  Big dogs. Little dogs—there were dogs to match every fun dog description in the old Dr. Seuss book he remembered from childhood. A couple of pens held wiggly, excited litters of indeterminable breeding. Some were surely purebreds, some were the small designer breeds bred to be cute to the nth degree. She moved on, though, lingering longer in front of the white muzzled old troopers who studied her with sad patience from their dog beds at the rear of their cages when she called to them.

  She kneeled down in front of the last cage and looked up at Glenda and Phyllis, shaking her head sadly. “You were right. Even you, Lane. This is completely impossible. How do I leave anyone behind?”

  Phyllis rested a gnarled hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right, dear. Not everyone can follow their heart here. But take comfort in knowing this is a no-kill shelter. It’s clean, bright, and warm. The dogs are all well fed.”

  “And wonderful people like Dr. Creighton donate expensive services that we couldn’t otherwise afford,” added Glenda. “So all of our animals receive the best of care if they need something special. We have lots of volunteers, too, who come to walk the dogs and play with them, or come to cuddle the kitties.”

  Kristen stood and brushed the dust from her slacks. “I want a mature dog; one who will bark at an intruder or if someone comes to the door...but who will also be very safe around neighbor kids and other dogs.” She gave the pens a wistful look. “And I would love to find one who will be my best friend for life. Dogs are so much more devoted than people, don’t you think?”

  The sisters exchanged glances, then studied the long rows of pens flanking each side of the room.

  “That might be Coco, Molly, or Sandy,” Phyllis said.

  “Or Ralph,” Glenda added, giving a distant cage a thoughtful look. “Though his hearing isn’t very sharp. We don’t always have a history on the animals here, but these four were owner surrenders so we do have a pretty good idea. Every dog here is neutered, heartworm negative, and has all of its vaccinations up-to-date. Our senior dogs have a reduced sixty-five-dollar adoption fee, but just like the younger dogs, we require a pre-adoption home visit and also a home visit for a status check on them, two weeks after adoption. But before all of that, a prospective owner has to fill out an application online.”

  Kristen nodded. “I did that this morning before leaving home. My yard is safely fenced already, and I definitely plan to comply with every stipulation about a dog being kept inside. I would feel terrible leaving it to live outside all alone.” She shuddered. “My heart just breaks when I see dogs chained outside with a pitiful little dog house, or one kept 24/7 outside in a pen, with little human contact. What a horrible existence.”

  He heard a break in her voice over all alone and again wondered at all of the little hints he’d caught about her past. The glimpses of sadness. Her obvious belief that dogs were more loving than people. What was her story, really?

  One by one, the sisters brought out each of the dogs—a beautiful brown goldendoodle, a Doberman-rottie cross, a golden lab with a white muzzle and finally Ralph, who appeared to be a spaniel-beagle mix, with a white and brown spotted coat, floppy beagle ears and freckles on his legs.

  Lane leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest watching her study and then interact with each of the dogs. All costs being equal, she would choose the goldendoodle, he decided. The prettiest of the bunch. Or perhaps the dobe, with its striking appearance and muscular body. Just its silhouette in a window might strike fear in the heart of an intruder.

  “So, what do you think?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him. “Who would you choose?”

  He held his hands in front of him, palms out. “You probably don’t want my opinion. The last time I chose a dog, I ended up with Tank.”

  “I need to fly home for Thanksgiving. Do you board dogs at your clinic?”

  “Not as a general rule, but I could do that for you.”

  “We don’t offer boarding either,” Glenda murmured. “But we won’t be able to do your home inspection until Wednesday, and it sounds like you’ll be leaving town a few days later. It would be much less upheaval for the dog if you could wait to pick him up after the holiday.”

  Kristen’s face fell and her shoulders slumped with obvious disappointment. “You’re right, of course. But can I make my choice today?”

  Phyllis nodded and cocked her head, her face wreathed in a big smile. “I’m dying to hear what it is.”

  “Well...Coco is gorgeous, but goldendoodles are so popular that I think she’ll easily find a home. Same with the beautiful Dobie cross. I’ll bet those two haven’t been here long at all, and that they’ll have new owners soon. Am I right?”

  Glenda nodded.

  “But Sandy looks older than the first two and slower. And she’s limping, so I’d guess she has some arthritis...and Ralph looks older yet. They seem to be buddies, though...so how cruel would it be to take one without the other?”

  Lane hadn’t noticed until now, but sure enough, they were in neighboring kennels and even now they were laying down so they were practically touching through the chain-link wall between their runs. “You want both?”

  Kristen lifted her chin to a stubborn tilt. “Definitely. As lovely as it is here, I think they both might like to live out their days in their own quiet home. And I think they deserve to have a loving home together, don’t you think?”

  “I think you’re absolutely right,” Lane said softly. With just a few words, she’d completely upended his expectations, and his estimation of her character tripled.

  He shook his head, feeling a mix of awe and fascination that sent his universe spinning out of balance. Where had she been all his life, and now that she was here, what w
as he going to do about it?

  CHAPTER SIX

  The day after her trip to the animal shelter, Kristen met with two more home security companies and hired one of them for an installation next Monday. Then she drove out of town to a furniture consignment store to buy a sofa, loveseat, and chairs for the living room, a small dining room set, and an old oak bedroom set for the main floor bedroom, all that arrived with next-day delivery.

  Most everything else, she’d ordered online, and when the new mattress set arrived this morning, she’d heaved a deep sigh of relief. With that plus the heavy curtains she’d purchased, surely she would finally have a good night’s sleep. New dog beds arrived as well, for the floor next to her bed, along with minimal housewares and linens.

  Grandma Tilly’s house was actually beginning to feel like home.

  Far more than it needed to, for someone staying just a month or so, she reflected as she looked around. What had she been thinking, while shopping the online home goods sites for bargains? That she was actually going to stay for good? Did that even make sense?

  At the end of the afternoon, Gladys Tompkins had arrived at the front door, clipboard in hand and a steely look of resolve in her eyes, but then she left an hour later with words of praise and a smile on her face.

  Kristen sagged onto the new sofa after her departure, exhausted. The house was finally habitable, though now the real work could start, and just the thought made her muscles ache and her back hurt.

  What had she been thinking when she’d decided to take this project on?

  A text beeped into her phone. I’m on your doorstep. Didn’t want to startle you. L.

  Door’s unlocked. Come on in. In LR, she texted back, ignoring the sudden butterflies ricocheting around in her stomach.

  The front door swung open and Lane walked in, bringing with him a blast of cold air.