Holding On

by Pamela Clare

  Stop torturing yourself.

  She wasn’t the kind of woman who would interest Harrison Conrad. She didn’t climb and wasn’t a fitness geek. She had zero interest in slogging her way up a fourteener. She’d climbed a mountain once, tackling Mt. Evans with some fellow Team members. The best part about the experience had been when the climb was over.

  She would rather stay home, putter in her garden, take her dogs for a hike, read a book. Although she liked the outdoors, she didn’t need to go to Kamchatka or Nepal or the Arctic to hike or camp. She got her fill of adventure volunteering with the Team.

  Besides, Kenzie had already done the climber thing. Her first boyfriend had broken up with her after college graduation to work as an adventure guide in Alaska. He’d died in a helicopter accident six months later. Her second boyfriend, who had also loved to climb and ski, had gone to Austria to ski in the alps and had met a woman there, a tall, blonde, extreme skier. He’d broken up with Kenzie via email.

  Harrison was another one of these ripped, sexy men who turned her on—but who would never stick around to build a life with her. He said he was done with climbing and off the Team, but she didn’t believe that. Once he’d had time to heal, he’d start planning his next trip and head off to climb the unclimbed, risking his life again.

  Well, she was done with that.

  She was a homebody. She loved her little garden with its tulips and daffodils in the spring and roses in the summer. She enjoyed her work with dogs. She loved Scarlet Springs. Her grandparents had lived here when she’d been a little girl growing up in Boulder. Living in their house—an old Victorian—reminded her of those good days.

  Harrison was probably lousy in bed anyway.

  Wouldn’t you just love to test that theory?

  She was so lost in thought that she missed her turn. Only when Bear waved to her from the roundabout, where he typically preached in the afternoons, did she realize that she’d gone too far She had a two o’clock appointment with Lexi Taylor to go over her third-quarter financials. “Shoot.”

  Kenzie waved at Bear and saw him laugh as she used the roundabout to make a U-turn and head back the way she’d come. Bear had lived in the mountains west of town for as long as anyone could remember, and he hadn’t changed much through the years. He preached the Gospel and blessed passersby from the roundabout in exchange for spare change or a meal. Though he had the heart and mind of a child, he was big like his namesake, with a bushy beard and buckskin clothes he’d probably made himself. No one knew why he was the way he was, but they all did their part to make sure he had enough to eat and shelter during the cold months of winter.

  Her mind off Harrison, Kenzie made a left onto East First Street, parking in front of the purple Victorian cottage with the white trim. It was one of the few houses to have survived the big fire that had destroyed most of the town in 1878. Out front was a sign that read, “Jewell and Associates.”

  Kenzie grabbed her handbag, stepped out of her truck, and walked through the iron gate, rose bushes laden with late-summer blooms on both sides.

  Lexi opened the screen door, looking both gorgeous and casual in a long, Bohemian sundress in navy blue and white, her long red hair swept up in a twist. “Hey! Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Water would be great.” Kenzie stepped inside.

  “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

  “Thanks.” Kenzie sat in a plush wingback chair in what had once been a front sitting room but was now Lexi’s office.

  Lexi’s family—the Jewells—had lived in Scarlet from the beginning. Her father owned the Forest Creek Inn just down the street, an enormous Victorian house that had been in their family and served visitors to Scarlet since the 1860s.

  Kenzie glanced at the photos on the walls. A wedding photo of Lexi and Austin, her park ranger husband who volunteered for the Team as one of its lead rock climbers. A photo of Lexi and Austin soaking wet and laughing in a river raft. A new photo of their baby girl, Emily, who was eighteen months old—and asleep in a crib in the next room.

  “Ice or no ice?” Lexi called from the kitchen.

  “Ice, please.”

  Lexi was a year older than Kenzie and had everything—a successful career, a man who was crazy about her, a sweet baby, a well-behaved dog. Kenzie had the successful career, too, and two amazing canines, but the man…

  Mr. Right wasn’t even on her horizon.

  Then again, Scarlet Springs was a tiny town with a small pool of eligible men her age. Most of the single guys she knew were into extreme sports, which put them off limits. Since she refused to venture into online dating or go anywhere near Tinder, her prospects for finding someone before her ovaries gave up weren’t promising.

  Lexi returned with her water and sat at her desk, her feet bare. “Where’s the puppy? I was hoping you’d bring her.”

  Kenzie didn’t know how to answer. She decided to tell Lexi the truth. “I told Harrison that Gizmo and Gabby weren’t getting along and asked him to foster her for me for a while.”

  Lexi looked confused. “But Gizmo loves Gabby.”

  “Yes, but Harrison doesn’t know that. I had to do something. He’s been shut inside that house for two weeks. He hasn’t spoken to anyone—at least until today. He and I went to the park to do some puppy training.”

  Lexi gaped at her, laughing. “Oh, you are a genius—devious, but a genius. That’s perfect.”

  “Don’t tell anyone. If Harrison were to find out, it would ruin everything.”

  “We won’t breathe a word of it to him.”

  “We?”

  Oh, right. Kenzie had forgotten that secrecy was a relative thing on the Team. By tonight, everyone but Harrison would know.

  Chapter 4

  Conrad took a shower and shaved while Gabby napped in her crate. He rinsed off the shaving cream and met his gaze in the mirror.

  What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

  If it had been anyone but Kenzie, he would have refused, but he was a sucker for her big, blue eyes, for that smile. Okay, he was a sucker for dogs, too, but could he truly handle a puppy? Since he’d gotten back to Scarlet, he’d barely been able to handle himself.

  I guess it’s time to get your shit together.

  Hadn’t he been trying?

  Apparently, not hard enough.

  He walked back to the bedroom to get dressed. He had only the clothes he’d brought home from the monastery. He hadn’t washed any of it yet. He grabbed the same pair of jeans he’d been wearing for two weeks off the floor, pulled them on, then gathered everything up, and started a load of laundry. Thank God Mrs. Beech had at least bought a modern washer and dryer.

  Once he’d gotten the washing machine going, he went out to the kitchen and was embarrassed at what he saw. Kenzie had seen this, too. The sink was filled with two weeks’ worth of dishes. The trash was overflowing—and it stank. The floor hadn’t been swept since he’d moved in.

  If you don’t want her to think you live like a slob, then don’t live like a slob.

  There was no dishwasher, so he washed the dishes by hand and then swept the floor and carried the trash out to the bin.

  When he came back in, he heard Gabby crying in her crate.

  The sound went straight to his heart.

  He went into his bedroom, where Kenzie had told him to keep the crate, and opened the little door. “Hey, little girl.”

  Gabby bounded out, her entire body wagging.

  Remembering what Kenzie had told him, Conrad picked the puppy up, grabbed a few treats, and put her down just outside the back door so that she could do her business.

  Gabby sniffed her way around the overgrown lawn, barking at dandelion fluff when her curiosity sent the little seeds dancing in the wind.

  Conrad couldn’t help but laugh. What must it be like to be new in the world, to be fascinated by everything?

  Gabby made her way to the edge of the yard, where, finally, she peed. She fini
shed and then bounded over to him, taking the treat he offered, her tail wagging.

  Conrad praised her. “Good girl!”

  Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

  He sat in an old lawn chair, giving Gabby some time to explore, trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his day.

  He needed to get to The Cave, load his shit into his 4Runner, bring it here, and unpack it, or he’d be wearing these jeans forever. But the thought of going to The Cave put a knot in his chest.

  It had once been his home away from home, part of the trinity of his social life—The Cave, Knockers, the rock gym. Now even his home didn’t feel like home. It’s not that he didn’t want to see his friends. He had enjoyed catching up with Moretti and his kids more than he could have imagined. But his fellow Team members might ask questions he didn’t want to answer and offer him compassion he couldn’t accept.

  You’re weak, pathetic.

  Disgusted, he willed himself to his feet and called Gabby over, giving the puppy another treat when she came. He carried her indoors and set her down, then walked into the bedroom to put on a shirt.

  He couldn’t run away from this forever. His shit wasn’t going to drive itself here. Once he had retrieved it, he wouldn’t have to go to The Cave again. If anyone pressed him with questions, he could just refuse to answer.

  He went in search of his shoes and then had to search for Gabby.

  He found her near the back door, where she stood sniffing…

  “Oh, man. Shit.”

  The little thing had pooped on the floor.

  Kenzie lived next door to her business, so she drove home, parked, and walked to the kennel to find the place quiet. With the peak months of summer behind them, they had only six dogs boarding now, and they were all out in the play yard with Quinn, her manager, who was also looking after Gizmo and her own dog, Sheba, a black lab.

  That was one of the perks of working at the kennel. Every day was Bring Your Dog to Work Day—provided the dog was well-trained and got along with other pooches.

  Kenzie made her way to her office and filed the Q3 tax documents Lexi had given her, making her Q3 payment online. Then she read through her email—a couple of inquiries about reserving space for the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays, a shipping confirmation for an order of hypoallergenic pet shampoo, and an email from a woman who wanted to know how to keep her new puppy from tearing up her couch cushions.

  Kenzie answered the woman with a few suggestions and attached a couple of flyers—one about crate training and the other a schedule of upcoming puppy kindergarten classes—and immediately got an angry reply.

  “You think I want to spend more money on this animal? I just need you to tell me what to do!”

  Kenzie’s heart hurt for that puppy. Why did people bring companion animals into their homes without learning how to care for them? The failure wasn’t the puppy’s, but the owner’s.

  Kenzie decided it was probably a bad idea to reply with the words that had come to mind, so she simply deleted the woman’s email.

  She left her office and walked out front to the store, fighting the urge to text Harrison to find out how things were going.

  She found Dree, who’d worked for her for about a year now, getting ready to close up the shop.

  “Where’s Gabby?” Dree asked.

  “I left her with a friend.”

  The store wasn’t as profitable as the kennel or her obedience training classes, which both got clientele from across Forest and Boulder counties. Scarlet Springs was a small town, after all. Still, Kenzie had been able to stay in the black so far, while offering the residents of the area the best in natural pet food and other supplies.

  No one, including Kenzie, wanted to make the trip down the canyon to Boulder just for good pet food.

  “How did the day go?” Kenzie sorted the mail.

  Junk mail. Bills. Catalogs.

  “It was pretty busy, actually.”

  Fridays were often busy. The store was open only from 10 to 3 on Saturdays and was closed on Sundays to give Kenzie and her staff a day off.

  “People are trying to get what they need before the weekend.”

  Kenzie cashed out the register, leaving Dree to mop the floor and do a quick restock of the shelves before locking up. She carried the cash to her office and had just filled out a bank deposit slip when her cell phone buzzed.

  A message from Rose Ellery, the town’s psychic and leading gossip.

  I forgot that Gandalf needs more dry food. I’m in the middle of a chakra realignment and won’t make it before you close. Can you leave a bag of the silky coat formula outside the door? I’ll drop a check through your mail slot.

  Kenzie texted her back.

  Sure thing. It will be waiting in the cooler outside the door.

  She went back to the store, where Dree had just finished mopping, and grabbed the bag of cat food Rose wanted. Kenzie rang it up and carried the cat food outside to the large cooler that sat by the store’s front door, shutting the food inside with the bill.

  She wouldn’t have been able to do something like this in Boulder or Denver because someone would steal the cooler, not to mention the cat food. In Scarlet, all she had to worry about were the bears that sometimes wandered into town looking for a meal.

  She locked the door, turned the sign on the door to CLOSED. “Have a good night, Dree. Thanks for your hard work today.”

  She left Dree to turn out the lights and went out to the play yard to get Gizmo, who whined and ran over to her, tail wagging. “How’s my big boy?”

  She hugged him, tousled his ears, and petted his chest.

  Quinn held the door open. “I was about to take them inside to feed them.”

  “I’ll help.” Kenzie’s Team pager went off. “Or maybe not.”

  She drew the pager out of her pocket, scrolled through the message.

  K9 NEEDED AT FOURTH OF JULY TRAILHEAD.

  “It’s time to go to work, Gizmo.”

  Everything at The Cave was just the way Conrad remembered it. Litters and enormous bags that held ropes hung from one wall, together with skis and snowshoes, while a fortune in climbing gear hung from the other. Medical kits sat on shelves, their sides marked plainly with red crosses. In the far corner lay a naked crash-test dummy.

  Fred had lost his britches again—the poor bastard.

  No one was there besides Megs and Ahearn, which was both a relief and a little disappointing. It might have been nice to see the others.

  Megs’ gaze fixed on the puppy. “Are you babysitting or something?”

  “Kenzie asked me to foster Gabby for a few weeks. She said Gizmo hasn’t taken to the puppy very well.”

  Ahearn looked confused. “I thought Gizmo loved Gabby.”

  Megs looked over her shoulder at Ahearn, whose expression changed abruptly.

  Ahearn cleared his throat. “But I don’t know a thing about dogs—not a thing.”

  Megs turned back to Conrad. “How’s it going?”

  “So far, so good, I guess. She had an accident, but we’re putting that behind us.”

  Why this made Megs smile, Conrad couldn’t say. She reached over to pet Gabby, speaking in the silly voice people used when talking to cute animals. “Did you go potty on Conrad’s messy floor? You just don’t know better, do you?”

  While Megs watched Gabby, Conrad carried dusty boxes down from the attic and loaded them into his vehicle. With the puppy’s carrier, he didn’t have as much room as he might otherwise. But there was no harm in an extra trip or two. When his vehicle was full, he grabbed the puppy, drove back to the house, and unloaded.

  On his third trip, he arrived at The Cave to find Rescue 1 gone.

  Something had happened.

  He got Gabby from her carrier, clipped on her leash, and led her into Ops, where he found Megs and Ahearn at the radio.

  “Eight sixty-five.” That was Sheriff’s Deputy Julia Marcs.

  “Eight sixty-five, go a
head.”

  “The mother arrived with a scent article. K9 is just down the road.”

  Kenzie was on her way to the scene.

  “Eighteen forty-five.”

  Conrad lifted Gabby into his lap, listened to the radio traffic. How strange it was not to be part of the action, to sit on the sidelines like this.

  Megs turned to face him, filling him in. “A woman reported her adult son missing last week. Marcs found his vehicle up near Fourth of July Trailhead. He parked it near some aspens, and judging from the leaf litter, Marcs thinks it has been there for a while.”

  “Shit.” That didn’t sound good.

  A burst of static, and then Kenzie’s voice. “Sixteen eighty-eight, arrival.”

  Dispatch replied with the time. “Eighteen forty-six.”

  Megs turned back to the radio.

  Feeling out of place, Conrad left Ops and went up the back stairs to the attic, carrying Gabby, who was just too little to manage stairs as steep as these. He set her down on the wooden floor and fixed her leash to one of the support posts. He sorted through the remaining boxes, making quick trips to his SUV to load them, Gabby whining when he disappeared and greeting him with tail wags when he reappeared.

  When he had everything he needed, he scooped the puppy into his arms and headed back to Ops. He still had climbing gear here, as well as furniture. He would leave it until he bought a place. There was no reason to move all of it twice.

  Megs and Ahearn were still sitting at the radio.

  Conrad waited for a second to be sure he wasn’t interrupting radio traffic. “I’m heading out. I’ve got some furniture and gear up there still.”

  Megs said nothing, her brow furrowed.

  Ahearn glanced over at him and nodded.

  A burst of static, and then Kenzie again. “Sixteen eighty-eight, victim has been located. Code black. We’re going to need a DBT.”

  A dead body transfer.

  A tightness crept into Conrad’s chest.

  “Son of a bitch.” Megs closed her eyes, exhaled. “So much for a happy ending.”