by Donna Alward
“I don’t understand why Lindsay thought I wouldn’t mind. Moose needs a special environment.” She hesitated to say more. The veterinarian had already gone above and beyond, and so had the staff. Ally was trying to find spots for all the pets. But Moose was special.
June merely shrugged. “She said something about you and Chris. By the way, I saw your picture together in the paper. Isn’t the bake sale today?”
“I’m going over there next.”
Only she knew she wasn’t. She was going to Chris’s. She had to make sure Moose was okay first. There was no way Chris had known what he was getting himself into.
“Good luck with it. And don’t worry about Brutus or Galahad. They’re good boys. I’ll bet you have them adopted in no time.”
Indeed, the fire seemed to suddenly make people conscious of the issue and prospective owners seemed to be coming out of the woodwork.
“I’ll be back later,” she promised and headed back to her car. It took two tries before the engine caught. She was going to have to give it a tune-up soon, change the oil and air filter and plugs. She needed to get at least another year out of it, but she doubted she’d get much more.
As she headed out towards the highway and Chris’s place, she sighed. She hated that this all came down to money, but all signs were pointing towards letting the shelter go. At some point she had to face facts. She couldn’t have both her independence and her project.
Chris’s truck was in the yard as she pulled up, and she heard the barking as she opened the car door.
She was barely three feet from the hood when Moose came barreling down the driveway. Where was the reclusive, timid dog she was used to? He panted and rubbed against her leg, his weight nearly sending her off-balance. “Hey, boy,” she murmured, rubbing her hand along his head and back. “Look at you.” She supposed he greeted her because she was familiar. He normally didn’t do well with strangers. This made it even odder that he’d be with Chris. Moose jumped up and she shifted her arm so that he had to put his feet back on the ground. “Down,” she commanded. “No jumping.”
Chris came around the corner, dressed in jeans and an old T-shirt that sported the faded words Firemen Like It Hot. His caramel-colored hair was ruffled from the wind and what appeared to be exertion from play. “Moose,” he called, and Ally had a secret satisfaction when the dog totally ignored him. That was more in character.
Chris came down the driveway, his easy stride making her mouth go dry. It wasn’t fair that he was still so good-looking. Wasn’t fair that he could still turn his blue eyes on her and she could feel herself melting into a puddle of goo. It was even worse since the fire. For three long years they’d avoided each other. She’d nearly convinced herself that the sparks between them hadn’t been that good. And then he’d touched her and she’d pretty much combusted right in his hands.
“Imagine my surprise when I stopped at the clinic today and discovered Moose’s crate empty,” she said coolly, her hand on Moose’s collar. The dog turned his head and licked at her hand. Traitor.
Chris seemed to ignore the slight bite in her tone. He came closer—too close—and squatted down to rub Moose’s head. “I was trying to think of a way I could help, and then I realized. This house is pretty empty, and why not take in one of the dogs?”
“When we foster animals out, I like to know where they’re going.”
He looked up now, his brows forming a dark line across his forehead. “Meaning I wouldn’t have met with your approval?”
She sighed. “Oh, Chris. Moose has special needs. I’d want to make sure that whoever has him realizes that and is prepared for it.”
Chris laughed, giving Moose a pat and standing up. “Special needs? Don’t listen to her, Moose,” he instructed the dog. He looked at Ally. “That sort of thing could really hurt his feelings.”
He was exasperating. Was he making fun of her now?
“I’m serious. We’re pretty sure he was abused in his last home. He’s timid and doesn’t respond to commands, and when he’s in his crate he cowers. We let him outside and we have the opposite problem—he runs like crazy. We’ve worked with him a lot, but he’s a pretty big boy to spring on someone who isn’t expecting his issues.”
Chris looked down at her, his eyes softening. “You just want to make sure he’s okay.”
She let out a breath, relieved. “Yes.”
“And he will be. We always had dogs growing up, you know that. All this boy needs is some love and patience and security.”
Patience? Chris wasn’t exactly a model for patience. When he wanted something, he wanted it now. How long before he’d be frustrated when Moose didn’t snap to when he commanded?
“Easier said than executed.”
“It always is,” he answered, and she wondered if they were still talking about Moose or if they were dancing around something else.
“Come on in,” he answered. “It’s my day off and Moose has had enough fetch for a while.” He turned towards the house.
Her mouth dropped open. “You got him to fetch?”
He spun back and grinned, patting his pocket. “I throw, he goes after it, I lure him back with a treat. He’ll get it eventually.”
She shook her head. “Watch you don’t overfeed.”
“Maybe you could try trusting that I know what I’m doing.” He pulled a baggie out of his pocket. “I discovered Moose likes carrot sticks.”
To prove it, he took one out of the bag. “Come on, Moose,” he called, and the dog obediently trotted off and marched at Chris’s heels, leaving Ally behind.
She felt betrayed.
And as much as she knew she was to blame for their breakup, she couldn’t help the little bit of resentment that slid through her as she watched him walk away. The end of their relationship hardly seemed to have made a blip in his life. He’d gone on to do his training and then come back to Wolfville and joined the volunteer department and started his own business. He was surrounded by his family and friends, was well-liked, had his own house. It seemed like he had succeeded in all the ways she hadn’t. Except for the animal shelter. Now all that was slipping away too, and watching him walk off with Moose—her Moose—was salt in the wound.
It wasn’t fair to say that he’d taken those things from her, because he hadn’t. But right now it felt that way.
She wanted to get into her car and drive away. Perhaps go home and hide her head beneath her pillow and wait for this to all go away. But she wouldn’t. It wouldn’t do a lick of good, and what she really ought to do was make sure that Chris was prepared for life with a hundred-pound-plus ball of unpredictability.
She trudged up the driveway after them.
She expected commotion inside, but it was surprisingly quiet. She could hear Chris’s voice coming from somewhere—the bedroom, possibly—and went to investigate.
The outgoing dog of outside was gone. Instead, he was sitting, quite awkwardly, in the small space between Chris’s dresser and a chair.
“Come on,” Chris was coaxing, holding out a carrot, but this time Moose wasn’t budging. His head was lowered and he was parked in place.
Chris looked up at her. “I don’t get it. He was fine outside. As soon as we came inside he ran in here and hid.”
Ally looked up at Chris. He really did care, she realized. And he was being patient with him, at least for now. He could be the perfect owner for Moose. Time would tell, of course, but it was a good start.
“He was the same at the shelter. If I took him out on the leash, he wanted to run. It was all I could do to hold him. He had no manners, and we’ve been working on that. But inside, he cowered in his crate.” She swallowed thickly. “It’s so hard not knowing the exact past history. But if I were a betting woman, I’d say Moose doesn’t like closed in spaces with no escape route. He gets anxious when he’s in a confined space.”
“Wouldn’t he want to escape then?”
“Depends on what is waiting for him when he comes out, I suppose
,” she replied. “I told you trust was a big thing.”
She considered for a minute. “Look, I’m smaller than you. I’m going to try getting in there with him.”
She worked her way into the small space and slid her bottom down the wall until she was sitting next to Moose, her knees tucked in close. She could feel his fur against her arm and she waited for him to relax, and then she put her hand on his back and stroked him gently. Long minutes passed. Chris sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Ally softly touched Moose’s ears, his shoulders and back. With a big doggie sigh, Moose finally submitted, first by laying down and then twisting, showing his belly.
She rubbed her fingers along his ribs. “What a good boy,” she murmured, then looked up at Chris. “He just needs time. He’s a good dog. Gentle and fun.”
“The only thing I really worry about is when I’m on shift.”
She shrugged. “We had to crate him at the shelter. If you have a room where he can stay, somewhere that he can’t make a lot of trouble, that would probably do. You could try it anyway.”
“The mudroom at the back would work. I can put his food and water in there and a bed. All that’s there is the closet. Nothing for him to get into.”
“Just don’t leave any shoes around for temptation.” She smiled, her hands never leaving Moose’s fur.
“I could put a fence in the backyard too,” he suggested. “Give him a place to run around without worrying about him running away.”
“That’s a great idea. He’s going to be a great pet, Chris. In time. I try to tell all my new owners that there’s a period of adjustment.”
“So I’m an owner now, and not a foster?”
Truth be told, from the moment she’d turned in the yard and seen Moose come galloping, she’d gotten the sense that this was a forever home and not a temporary one. “If you’re ready for that kind of commitment. Just promise me that if he’s too much, you let me know.”
He gave her a strange look, but only said, “You’re very good at this.”
Their eyes locked and Ally shared a fundamental truth with him. “The thing about dogs is that all they need is love, and they return it without conditions. They accept you for who you are. A dog’s heart is always open, and it’s our responsibility to honor that.” She frowned. “This dog wasn’t honored.”
“It’s not the same for cats?”
She grinned. “Dogs have owners. Cats have minions. Cats are special in their own way because they choose to give their affection. You just have to keep them in the manner to which they’ve become accustomed.”
“You have a big heart, Ally.”
She shrugged, trying not to acknowledge the warmth that spread through her at his words.
“They have given me far more than I give them.” She sighed. “After the fire, I was sure that I’d rebuild. But I have to be realistic. It was a lot of work getting this going the first time. My car’s a relic and working twenty-five hours a week retail isn’t enough to get my own place. As much as I’d love to start over, I’m just not sure I can.” She patted Moose’s head, which was now lying on her lap.
“So it’s not just the money for the set up.”
“No. Right now we’re all volunteer-based. It probably wasn’t a sustainable model to begin with.”
He was watching her curiously. “But it would be a shame, when you love it so much.”
She shrugged. “I’ve thought about going back to school. A better job and I could get my own place. Give a few rescues a good home, you know?” She looked away from his face. “Dreams change, I guess.”
Except hers really hadn’t. She hadn’t been ready to settle down at twenty-two. She’d wanted to do other things first. But she’d always known that someday she wanted the white-picket-fence life. A husband, a few kids under her feet, a couple of pets, maybe a job she actually liked. It didn’t have to be fancy or elaborate.
But Chris had wanted all those things right away, no matter how young they were. He’d pushed and she’d resisted. And she’d been terrified of saying yes. Terrified that one day he’d wake up and realize he’d rushed into a huge mistake. Even more terrified that one day she’d wake up and he’d be gone. She’d never wanted him to become a firefighter. He would be putting himself in danger every time he went on a call. She knew what it was like to think everything was fine and then have a policeman show up at your door, ripping your world apart. She didn’t want to lose someone she loved that way again.
“Moose is fine now. Let’s get you up out of there,” Chris said, holding out a hand.
She put her fingers in his warm, sure grip and let him pull her out of the corner. She patted her leg and Moose followed meekly. She had to swallow against the thickness in her throat. Poor Moose looked exactly like she felt. Fenced in by circumstances and unhappy. At least Moose had Chris. Chris never did anything halfway. He’d make sure Moose had a good, loving home.
“You want some coffee?”
She checked her watch. “I probably shouldn’t. The 4-H bake sale is happening and I need to put in an appearance.”
“Even if you’re not going to reopen?”
She nodded. “The bank account that was set up has looked after the vet bills, thank goodness. The bake sale won’t bring in much, but it will help with the care and food for our foster families. I’m still committed to finding good homes for those animals.”
They passed the living room and the couch. Her cheeks heated. Only a few days ago she’d been practically naked, sprawled on its length. She looked up at Chris’s back and felt an all-too-familiar burn. Attraction. Desire. Need. Whenever they’d met in the past she put that butterfly-type feeling down to the fact that they had a past. It had seemed natural given the circumstances. But now she recognized it for what it was. A sexual recognition that had never truly gone away. It didn’t help that he was so nice either. It would be easier to ignore if he was full of himself, or selfish, or something. But he wasn’t.
He was perfect.
And perhaps that was the one thing that kept her walking towards the door. It was hard to go toe-to-toe with perfect. And she already felt inadequate most of the time.
As soon as the door opened, Moose darted out around her legs, knocking her off balance and back against Chris. His hand settled on her arms, steadying her. “Are you sure you have to go?” he asked, his breath warm against her ear.
She nodded, even as she wanted nothing more than to stay. But it wouldn’t solve anything. They weren’t starting up again, were they? So what would be the point of taking things further?
She moved away from his touch and stepped out into the crisp fall air. It really was beautiful up here. The trees were all changing color and the air was ripe with the scent of it. Not far down the road was a winery, and she would almost swear she could smell the musty scent of the crush.
He followed her to her car while Moose investigated a corner of the back lawn. “New purse?” he asked as she opened the door. A new handbag was lying on the passenger seat.
“Old one pressed into everyday duty,” she replied. “I had to trash the other.” She didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t wanted to spend the money on a new one. It only made her look more pathetic.
His face lost all traces of levity and he put his hands on the top of the car window. “Better to lose a purse than have something happen to you.”
“Chris—”
“I mean it,” he answered. “I’ve responded to a lot of calls since I joined the department, and for people I knew too. But nothing froze me up like seeing you standing in that kennel with a towel over your face. I couldn’t let anything happen to you. I just couldn’t.”
“And you didn’t. When I saw you there I knew I could count on you.”
There was a significant pause, and then Chris met her gaze evenly. “Then why didn’t you count on me years ago? Why’d you have to give me back my ring, Ally?”
She never expected him to ask that, especially in such a forthright way. She
floundered, unsure of what to say. “I thought we were past all that. Ancient history.”
“I thought so too. Until the other night.”
“The other night was just us reacting to everything that had happened.” Her heart thrummed heavily. It was bad enough thinking about it. Talking about it just made it worse. And better at the same time. Which meant things were about to get complicated.
“That’s not all it was to me.” He came around the car door. Her only escape was to get in, but she couldn’t seem to quite do it.
“Getting married would have b-b-been a mistake,” she stammered, terribly flustered and wonderfully aroused by the proximity of his body to hers. She had to keep her head. “I was flighty and irresponsible, remember? I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do and I knew you’d regret jumping into marriage so soon. We’d only been dating a year…”
“I never said you were flighty and irresponsible. Quirky, maybe.” He grinned. Mercy, his lips were awfully close to hers, weren’t they?
“Yes, you did,” she replied, looking up into his eyes. “You told me I never settled on anything. You were right. And you were leaving to do your training. You were determined, even though you knew I was so afraid of you becoming a firefighter.”
“You didn’t seem to mind what I did for a living when I pulled you out of that burning building,” he pointed out.
He was so big. With barely an inch separating them and her back up against her car, she was well aware of the length of his legs and the breadth of his chest and shoulders. He was in prime physical shape.
“I’m aware of the irony,” she replied.
“And yet here we are. You rushed right over here this morning, didn’t you?”
“For Moose,” she said. And she meant it. If she’d been in the mood to seduce she wouldn’t be in faded jeans and a plain sweater. She would have taken greater pains with her hair and put on a little more makeup. If she’d been interested in picking up where they left off, she’d have put on other underwear than her plain white cotton panties and bra. But she could hardly point that out. He’d likely bring up the fact that the last time she hadn’t been wearing any underwear…
