Montana Homecoming

by Jillian Hart

  “Word is they want a Christmas wedding, although nothing official yet.” She tapped up the front steps and onto the cozy porch, keeping a good hold on her bag. Oscar had begun to drool. “They are going to wait until all this court stuff is over.”

  “Smart. Finish one chapter, then start another.” He pulled open the front door, giving her a new view of the destruction. “I haven’t been home long enough to tackle this.”

  “Oh, Oscar.” She gaped at the scene. The pictures Liam sent hadn’t begun to tell the whole story. Amazed, she walked into the ruin, stepping over DVD cases and fluffs of stuffing from the couch pillows, shocked at Oscar’s thoroughness.

  The Lab whined, worry furrowing his doggy brow.

  “You know that was wrong, don’t you?” She kept her voice gentle but didn’t hide her disappointment in him.

  Oscar’s head sank. His haunches went down. No whine had ever sounded as sorry.

  “See? This is my problem.” Liam’s gaze speared hers, full of sympathy for his canine friend. “He loses his head and then regrets it later. He’s not a bad dog.”

  “Not even close.” She liked Liam more for understanding that. With the slant of the light through the windows falling across him he appeared gilded, like a dream. Why did her heart skip three beats? Why couldn’t she pull away to put more physical distance between them?

  All good questions. The fact that she actually felt a little comfortable with him surprised her more. Maybe it was how he’d protected her earlier in the courtroom corridor, hauling her purposefully away from the nosy reporter. She wasn’t good at letting anyone do something for her, even family. She’d become very self-reliant. Maybe too self-reliant. His help had felt nice.

  Liam gave the front door a push, closing it with a final click. He squared his shoulders as he surveyed the room. “I’ve been wanting to redecorate anyway.”

  Funny. She liked that about him, too. The left side of his mouth crooked upward into a grin and a dimple dug into his lean cheek. Totally a likeable guy.

  “Do you know what you need?” She did her best to drag her gaze away from his riveting dimple.

  “A swift kick for my brilliant idea to get a dog?”

  “No, because it was a brilliant idea. You saved him. You gave him a new life.” She tried to sound casual, keeping her approval tucked down deep. Did she succeed? Who knew? She suspected probably not. “What you need is someone to help you clean up this mess.”

  “You would do that?” Liam’s gaze harpooned her and she could see into him, where his kindness lived.

  “Why not?” She wasn’t affected by him. Really. And that was the story she was sticking with. “I like to help where I can, and let’s face it, you have a problem here. It’s hard to believe one dog could do so much damage.”

  “Wait till you see the kitchen.” The dimple cutting into his cheek deepened and so did the gleam in his eyes. “That’s nice of you, Brooke. It’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”

  “Probably the only offer you’ve had all day.”

  “True.” His chuckle rumbled smooth and warm like butter melting, and a matching dimple bracketed the right corner of his mouth. For most women that would probably be irresistible.

  Good thing she was immune.

  “I may as well feed you since you’re here anyway.” A casual invitation as he knelt to gather up a bunch of DVD cases. Most of them only had a few teeth marks. “I’ve got some meat defrosting in the kitchen. All I can offer you is a hamburger.”

  “I’ve never met a hamburger I haven’t liked.”

  “Excellent. Another thing we have in common.”

  “You’re counting?” She rescued a couch cushion from the floor.

  “Just making conversation. Trying to figure out the puzzle that is Brooke McKaslin.”

  “I’m a puzzle?”

  “Only in that I don’t know anything about you.” He set the DVDs on a shelf. “I’ve known Colbie and Lil for years, ever since they moved in next door to my grandmother. We attend the same church.”

  “Then why didn’t I see you at yesterday’s service?” She studied him with an analytical arch to her amazing blue eyes and it made his heart catch.

  That lurch in his chest bothered him.

  “Let me guess.” He rescued more DVDs from the floor. “You went to the early service.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  “Nope. I find it tough to get up early on Sunday.”

  “Ah, another piece of the puzzle that is Liam Knightly.”

  “I’m no puzzle. With me, what you see is what you get.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  He rolled his eyes, laughing along with her. He rescued a few stray DVDs that still might work once the dried slobber was cleaned off. He gave them a swipe with his sleeve. “So, what do you do besides coming to the rescue of desperate dog owners?”

  “I’ll let you know. I’m currently unemployed.”

  “Ouch. Been there.” He matched up DVDs with their mangled cases, but where were his eyes? Watching her. “It was long, long ago but I remember it clearly. Unemployment is not fun.”

  “No, but I’m not dwelling on it. Something will work out.” She straightened the last cushion. Her movements, graceful and self-conscious, stole him. It was as if she’d reached right over and tried grabbing his heart.

  “Well, something worked out for you today. Oscar is your next job.” He swallowed against the tightness in his throat, but nothing could dispel the odd sensation of almost being caught by her.

  He didn’t want to be caught by anyone.

  “I’m sure Oscar will be the best job I’ve ever had. He’s a sweetie.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” He ambled around the coffee table, still on its side, and bent to right it. “Colbie might keep finding you work.”

  “You never know. She’s certainly determined.” She dug in her purse and withdrew a packet of needles and different-colored thread bobbins. “I think she wants me to find something here so that I’ll stay in Montana.”

  “Do you want to stay?” He heaved the oak coffee table onto all four legs, watching her through his lashes.

  “I don’t know.” Her voice dipped. “I’ve gotten used to life in Seattle.”

  “Oh, I get it. You have someone there. A boyfriend?” Why was he disappointed? He should not be bummed because Brooke had a significant other.

  “No, no way. Just a life I’ve gotten comfortable with.” She held up a length of thread to one of the couch cushions, nodded and chose a needle.

  No boyfriend? Why was he relieved? “Sometimes you have to step out of your comfort zone. Take a risk.”

  “I’ve done that. Got burned.” She shrugged, oddly vulnerable and trying to hide it. “Lived to regret it. Hugely.”

  “Who hasn’t?”

  “True.” He didn’t know what it was about her that drew him. It was a mystery he had to figure out. Was it her honesty, like the quietest note of a hymn, that hooked him? Or the promise of an amazing spirit that went along with her breath-stealing beauty? He wished he knew. One thing he liked was a puzzle. It was the reporter in him. He had to know more, so he tried again. “What do you do for a living?”

  “A little of this, a little of that.” She threaded the needle. “I think the couch cushion is totally salvageable, but what about that throw pillow?”

  “Not a chance of saving it, and I’m the one asking the questions.” He swept up the pillow missing half its stuffing. He had more pressing matters, mainly the intrigue of Brooke McKaslin. “Where did you go to college?”

  “I didn’t.”

  Curious. He would have pegged her for an intellectual type with a degree in fine arts or maybe social work. She stayed away for most holidays or he would have spotted her at Gram’s long before this. “Why did you move so far from your family?”

  “Uh…” She looked up from knotting her thread. Her long hair whipped as she glanced around the room. “Liam, where is Oscar?”

&n
bsp; “Nice one, but you aren’t going to distract me. I’m on a mission—”

  “No, really, where’s Oscar?” Concern tugged at her rosebud lips. “Where did he go?”

  A crash rang from the kitchen, accompanied by the thud of something four-footed landing on the floor. A plate clattered to a ringing stop.

  “Mystery solved,” Liam quipped. “He’s in the kitchen helping himself to our dinner.”

  Chapter Four

  “Amazing. The wrapping isn’t even stopping him.” Liam surveyed what remained of the defrosting pound of hamburger with disbelief etched on his face. “Worse, it didn’t even slow him down.”

  “Oscar has a gift, that’s for sure.” Brooke laughed. “Oscar, give.”

  Recognition sparked in chocolate-brown eyes. The dog obviously knew the word. His jowls stopped working. Big, sharp teeth clamped mutinously. With his big feet braced and every muscle tensed, he did not want to relinquish his prize.

  “Oscar.” She willed a little authority into her voice. “Give.”

  His eyes went down. His head went down. With one big swallow he gulped the rest of the meat before there was any hope of recovering it. All she saw was a flash from the wrapping paper before it disappeared behind his sharp teeth.

  “I’m disappointed in you.” She let that show in her words, too.

  Oscar swallowed one final time and whined in defeat, and his nose drooped to the floor as if he were disappointed in himself, too. Doggy brows arched in dismay.

  A perfect picture of remorse.

  “Just like with the ham.” Liam raked his fingers through his thick locks of hair. “He totally lost his head and lived to regret it.”

  “We’ll have to work on his impulse control. And you.” She whirled at him, doing her best not to notice the concern for the dog on his face, the fact that he wasn’t angry, that he wasn’t quick to lash out at the dog. “You know he has food issues. You shouldn’t have left that meat out to tempt him.”

  “Me? I’m in trouble?” He chuckled at that, thought about it, shook his head. “I probably deserve it. You’re right. I clearly need training.”

  “Glad you can admit it. That’s the first step.” She shouldn’t be chuckling along with him. Just like she shouldn’t be noticing how handsome he was with his silk tie askew and loosened, with his striped dress shirt a little wrinkled and the top button undone. She shouldn’t be noticing the way the sunlight backlit him, glossing him like a statue. The most incredible statue she’d ever seen—sculpted masculine features, carved muscled physique and compassion towering over her.

  Don’t gasp. Don’t stare. Don’t notice. She swallowed hard, trying to will her eyes to move away from him. Did they?

  No. Did she want them to?

  No. And wasn’t that the problem? Surely if she tried hard enough she could talk herself into it, right?

  “I’ve got to get used to having you around, buddy.” He knelt to rub the dejected dog’s head. Poor Oscar was so unhappy with himself, he whined even harder. Worry creased his canine face. “We’ll figure it out, yes we will. I’m guessing you were awful hungry at least one time in your life, huh, buddy?”

  “He probably was.” Brooke knelt, caught by the man’s sensitivity, impressed that he’d figured out what was driving Oscar’s behavior on a deeper level. “Everyone has things that motivate them or hold them back. Even dogs.”

  “Are you telling me he’s always going to be a food thief?” Humor in those words, sympathy for Oscar in those deep eyes.

  “It’s likely. He’ll get better, but it’s easier to train you not to leave food out.”

  “Ah, that’s what you meant about the training me thing?”

  “Sorry, Liam, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg. You are going to require a lot of training before you deserve this guy.” Laughing, seeking refuge in humor instead of her feelings, she brushed her fingertips across the soft fur of Oscar’s neck.

  Relief squeaked through the dog’s tight-sounding throat. His tongue lashed out, swiping across her face one, two, three times so fast she could barely pull away as the fourth one hit her. Raw ground beef dog breath. She shook her head. All part of the job. “I say you should feed this guy. Don’t waste any time. Where’s his kibble?”

  “Look around.” Liam swept his hand to the floor, where pieces of dried dog food were scattered over the entire span of the linoleum. It had been flung under the lip of the cabinets, tossed into the corners and tucked beneath the debris of what was once an organized kitchen.

  “Oscar.” The pictures hadn’t told the full story. Everything had been knocked off the counters. Even the magnets from the refrigerator’s front panel. “You’re a nut. You know that?”

  Oscar’s single bark reverberated through the kitchen, just short of deafening. He looked happy to be understood at last.

  “What about us?” Liam tugged open the pantry door and unrolled the food bag. Oscar’s ears went up. His nose hiked into the air, sniffing. His tail thumped hard on the ground before he launched across the kitchen, nails clipping fast. Food rushed into a red plastic dog bowl. “You and I are going to have to eat something. We’ve got to keep up our strength if we’re going to keep up with Oscar.”

  “Is he even chewing?”

  “Nah. I think he’s inhaling it whole. Hope it all goes down all right without getting clogged. Do you know the Heimlich for dogs?”

  “I do. The bowl’s already empty. Incredible.”

  “Oscar’s got skills. Not necessarily good ones.” Liam rolled up the bag and hid it in the pantry, making sure the door was securely closed. “Maybe it would be good to get him out of the house. Say, go for a ride?”

  “Woof!” Oscar danced at the word, big chocolate eyes sparkling with excitement. He raced to the back door so fast, his hind legs skidded out from under him. “Woof!”

  “It’s too late to disappoint him now.” Liam pulled a ring of keys from his trouser pocket. “C’mon.”

  “I’m in charge of this training session.” Really, she had to hold her ground. She had to keep control because something felt very, very off. Maybe it was the way laugher made his expressive eyes glitter. Or the rolling lilt of his chuckle, inviting and contagious and ending in a deep masculine rumble. Whatever it was, she had to remain unaffected. Remote. Steel.

  “I’m not in charge, either,” Liam quipped, “so it’s only fair. Are you hungry?”

  “You mean we’re going out to eat?”

  “We’ll have to since there’s nothing here, not anymore.” He unhooked the looped leash from a hook on the wall and clipped it to Oscar’s collar, not that the dog could stand still. He danced, he hopped, he barked. “It’ll be fun.”

  “Fun? I don’t doubt that.” Oscar was a laugh a minute. Her feet decided for her. They pulled her inexorably toward the man and his dog. The door opened, Oscar coiled up like a spring. The moment he had enough room he hurled through the door in one mighty leap that took Liam with him. There was a clatter and a boom.

  “Are you all right?” She poked her head out the door to see the barbecue grill land on its side on the deck. Did that stop Oscar? Not a chance. Like the lead dog on an Iditarod team, he half dragged, half pulled Liam to a big blue truck.

  “Lock up, would you?” Liam’s call carried on the wind. With a bonk, Oscar’s front paw went up on the side of the truck, whining to be let in.

  She had her work cut out for her. She twisted the lock button on the inside of the knob, backed onto the deck and closed the door. Sweet Montana breezes ruffled her hair as she turned into the sunshine, feeling light as air. Robins hopped along lush green grass looking for their dinners, and larks twittered from overhead branches as she skirted the downed barbecue and descended the steps toward Liam, who was waiting for her on the other side of the gate.

  “I’m glad you signed on for this.” He held the door open, his smile wide and as attractive as a toothpaste commercial. He looked far too fine of a man and she felt uncomfortable. Way too close to
him.

  She could feel the soft fan of his breath on her neck. His hand closed around her elbow to help boost her up into the truck. Definitely too close. Panic licked through her.

  “I can’t imagine anyone being as understanding with Oscar. Thank you.” The deep tones of his voice rumbled smoothly, calm and easygoing. “I tuned in to one of those dog training shows on cable and it scared me a little.”

  “Sure, because you look scared.” She slid onto the seat, trying not to notice the panic galloping through her. He let go, she could breathe, glad to be back in her comfort zone again. “I guess it depends on the kind of relationship you want with your dog.”

  “Right? That’s what I think. I’m not into the militant alpha dog thing. I’m just hoping he won’t wreck my house while I’m gone. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Who knows?” she quipped. “We’ll have to find out.”

  “If you, the dog trainer, don’t have faith, then who does?” He shut the door for her, framed by the partially open window.

  Oscar barked, poked his nose over the seatback and swiped her across the jaw with his tongue. He hopped up and down on the seat like a puppy, watching as his new master circled around the truck, unable to take his doggy gaze from Liam. Those big chocolate eyes reflected a big heart full of love.

  That was Oscar’s problem, she realized, watching the man climb into his seat, buckle up and plug keys into the ignition. What must it have been like to have been locked up at the shelter? To watch people wander by the kennels and choose other dogs, leaving him behind? What must it have felt like to wonder if anyone would ever want you?

  Oscar must have been so relieved and overjoyed when Liam had chosen him, kind and easygoing Liam. It showed in those doggy eyes.

  She twisted around in the seat to rub Oscar’s head. He bumped up into her hand, panting hard, tongue lolling. Happiness emanated from him with such force, he trembled.

  “Are you ready to roll, buddy?” Liam put the truck in gear, watching in the rearview mirror as the dog rocked back onto his haunches, sitting like a good boy. An ear-splitting bark echoed around the passenger compartment in response. “Okay. Then let’s go. Brooke, I hope you like Mr. Paco’s Tacos.”