Would the effect be like that of amnesia punch? Would those outside Mystic Springs feel dazed for a while after the place ceased to exist for the rest of the world?
Not his problem.
When all the dogs had been fed and watered, Silas got them settled in their pen and headed back to town. The trip was just long enough that he drove if the weather was bad or if he’d already made a couple of trips that day. The weather today was nice, too nice for him to think about staying inside, or driving when he could enjoy the walk. Judge stayed with him, because the dog had insisted and Silas could see no reason not to let the bloodhound tag along. It would give him something to talk about while Gabi cut his hair.
Judge seemed as excited as he had more than a year ago, when he’d first shown up at Silas’s place. The effects of the springs had worn off long ago, so what had the bloodhound so wound up?
“What is it with you and Gabi Lawson?”
Judge’s response was the canine equivalent of a harrumph, which made Silas laugh a little as he entered downtown Mystic Springs and stepped onto the sidewalk.
Not many people were out and about this time of day. The lunch rush at the café was over. School had not yet been dismissed.
Down the way, he saw Cindy Benedict leaving the beauty shop. Maybe she’d been Gabi’s last customer. God, he hoped not. Cindy’s hair looked like she’d just crawled out of bed. It was sticking out in all directions. Maybe that was a new style?
She crossed the street so Silas didn’t get a chance to speak to her. At least he didn’t have to lie and tell Cindy her hair looked great.
He heard the kid a split-second before he opened the door to the beauty shop. If he’d heard it any sooner he might’ve kept on walking.
Gabi’s daughter Mia was one-ish. She could walk, though not very well, and she talked but only spouted gibberish. And, apparently, she screamed. Silas didn’t like children much. He hadn’t spent much time with little kids, but he found them mostly demanding, messy, and annoying.
As he opened the door Silas looked down to instruct Judge to stay on the sidewalk, but that instruction was too slow. The bloodhound slipped past him, through the doorway and into the beauty shop.
Gabi stood in the middle of the room holding her little girl, bouncing her up and down, whispering soothing words which did not soothe.
Maybe he wouldn’t get his hair cut today after all. What he had to do, the plan he was supposed to enact, would have to wait. Just as well, since he didn’t really have a plan. This visit was recon, nothing more.
Before Silas could excuse himself and slip out, Judge settled himself at Gabi’s feet and turned his sad-eyed gaze up. The kid looked down and instantly stopped screaming, then reached for the dog with an expression of wonder on her face.
Because the kid squirmed and reached and spouted nonsensical but obviously demanding words, Gabi carefully placed the child on her feet.
Mia cooed, sighed, and wrapped her arms around Judge’s neck, and the two new friends plopped down together, settling in the middle of the floor like long-lost friends.
“Huh,” Gabi said. She turned her gaze from her child to Silas. “Cindy usually babysits until three, but she wasn’t feeling well and she said Mia was really antsy today. She started to fight me when I tried to pull out the playpen I used when she was younger.” She sighed, a little. “That option is off the table. I thought I was going to have to cancel.”
Silas jerked a thumb at the door. “I can come back another…”
“No, come on in. It looks like Mia and Judge are doing fine.” She smiled, then, and Silas’s stomach clenched.
Might as well get this over with.
Gabi’s hair was dark, almost as dark as his, and she wore it long. Sometimes she pulled her hair up and back, as she had today. Sometimes it was curly, other times straight as a board. Her hair was a different color every couple of months. Nothing weird, no pink or blue, but she’d gone through a couple of months as a redhead, not so long ago. She was a brunette more often than not, so maybe that was her natural hair color. Not that it mattered.
Her eyes, though… her eyes were brown. He’d noticed that before, that her eyes were brown like his, but up close he noticed the flecks of gold. Not that he had any business noticing the color of her eyes.
He took the chair that was offered, and looked down at the traitor on the floor. A quick, powerful message reached him.
Mine.
It was a shock to realize the thought had not come from Judge, but had somehow reached him from the child who held onto the bloodhound for dear life.
Chapter 2
Gabi liked her life here in Mystic Springs. She was settled, safe, and she had Mia. She had friends, some closer than others, none close enough to tell her life story to but still… friends. She didn’t need anything, or anyone, else. Moving out of her comfort zone would bring nothing but one complication after another.
She had enough of those in her life.
In the past year she’d learned to live with the sacrifices she’d made in order to stay safe, and only occasionally missed those things she’d given up for this new life. Maybe her old friends thought about her now and then, but they wouldn’t wonder where she was. Blake had made sure she distanced herself from friends. He wanted her all to himself; another warning sign she’d missed.
She had no family to speak of, other than Mia, so being on her own wasn’t a burden. It was how she lived, how she’d always lived. Social media; sometimes she missed it, and sometimes she didn’t. Not having a bank account was an occasional complication, but she’d learned to live with it. Her driver’s license was long expired.
Not everyone knew Cindy Benedict was pregnant and there was no way for Silas to know that morning sickness, which as every mother knew could strike any time of the day, was her reason for handing Mia off early, so Gabi didn’t share the news as she cut his hair. Word would be out soon enough. She did her best to listen to all gossip without sharing any of it.
So many women in town were getting pregnant, it was as if there had been an epidemic of some sort. A sperm epidemic. Gabi didn’t miss sperm. She didn’t miss men at all.
That was a lie. In concept men were great. In reality, her experiences had made her cautious. Cautious, hell, she was terrified of repeating her mistakes. But when so many women were talking about being pregnant or getting pregnant, she couldn’t help but remember when she’d been carrying Mia. She’d loved being pregnant, in many ways. Her journey to motherhood had been less than perfect, not at all how she’d imagined it would be, and yet she couldn’t regret the decisions that had given her a daughter. Mia was a gift.
She would be a better single mother than hers had been; she would be a good mother to her child. She didn’t need any man. Looking back, she wished she’d left Florida as soon as the divorce was final, that she’d gotten as far away from her ex as humanly possible. Like, Alaska. She heard it was cold, but beautiful.
Mystic Springs wasn’t nearly as far away as Alaska, but so far it had served her well. It was a weird place, but she had a good handle on most of the people. Some of them were perfectly nice. Others had an odd dislike of outsiders. She hadn’t figured Silas out yet. He was complicated. Their date had been pretty bad, but she couldn’t hold him responsible for her shoe or for the weather. He’d been a little awkward, but so had she. They’d both been cajoled into the date.
Not that it mattered. No matter how sexy Silas was she was staying far, far away from his sperm, and anyone else’s.
He’d been silent for a while, but he finally spoke up. “Uh, you can leave a little.”
She’d been cutting so fast she’d trimmed away too much. Silas usually wore his hair a tad long. “Sorry. Is it too short?” She tried to cover her tracks, tried not to let on that she’d been distracted by the thought of sperm. “I thought I’d try something new.”
“It’s fine,” he said, sounding more than a little uncertain.
Was it, though? Gabi mov
ed more slowly, more thoughtfully, as she continued.
Now and then she looked down at Mia and Judge. The bloodhound was a big dog, but Mia wasn’t at all afraid. The baby — a toddler now, who toddled around on unsteady legs more and more often — picked up one ear and let it drop, while the dog pinned adoring eyes on the child. Mia giggled, and when she ran her chubby little hands over Judge’s neck, the dog seemed to smile.
Impossible, right?
When Gabi was finished with Silas she whipped away the cape and took a brush to his shoulders to make sure she hadn’t left any hair behind. He wore khaki today, as he often did, and his dark hair would really show if he wasn’t careful to clean it all. She set the brush aside, saw a stray she’d missed, and reached out to pluck it off his arm just as he stood.
He dropped cash on her station. Too much.
“I’ll get some change…”
“No change,” he said gruffly.
“But…”
“Don’t argue. You’re going to need the extra money for dog food. I’ll bring you a bag of the brand Judge likes to get you started.”
Gabi laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as maniacal to Silas as it did to her. “I’m glad Mia and Judge are getting along, it’s actually very sweet, but I don’t intend to keep your dog.”
Silas sighed as Mia draped her entire body over Judge’s back and giggled. “I don’t think it matters at all what you or I intend.”
Gabi didn’t want a dog. The last thing she wanted or needed was something else to take care of. She had her hands full taking care of Mia and herself!
She tried to come up with a reasonable explanation, a firm but gentle insistence that she could not have a pet of any kind, but just ended up saying, in a too-uncertain voice, “No.”
“Ok,” Silas said calmly. “Come on, Judge.” He headed for the door. The dog did not.
Silas turned. He and the dog shared a glance. It seemed their eyes locked. Was that even possible? Finally, Judge stood slowly. His head hung low but he walked toward Silas, each step seemingly torture.
And Mia started screaming again. Judge looked back, his sad eyes blaming Gabi for his heartbreak. Who was she kidding? Bloodhounds always had sad eyes, right?
Mia reached out a hand, flexing her fat little fingers, and as Silas opened the door to leave the baby screamed, “My doggie. My doggie!”
Shit.
Standing on the sidewalk, Gabi muttered as she fumbled with her purse and her keys and the baby on her hip, until in a movement that spoke of sheer frustration she thrust Mia at Silas.
He took the kid. What choice did he have? It was take her or let her drop to the sidewalk. With his hands beneath Mia’s armpits he held her away from his body almost as far as possible, while Gabi locked the door to the beauty shop and dropped the keys back into her purse.
Gabi didn’t criticize the way he held her child, just slung the purse strap over her shoulder and took Mia back, holding the kid close.
Mia was perfectly happy now. So was Judge. The co-conspirators had gotten their way.
“Her first words, other than mama and no, and they’re a very clear ‘my doggie.’ I don’t want something else to take care of. I mean, Judge seems to be a sweet dog and all, but I have a one year old, and a business, and I can barely handle…” Gabi stopped speaking and looked both ways. As usual no cars were coming down Main Street. She crossed the street in front of the police station.
Silas knew he should get while the getting was good, but he stuck with her. He didn’t stay because he had a job to do. He hadn’t decided to play Jenna’s game, but he hadn’t decided not to, either. He wasn’t normally so indecisive, but this was no normal choice. It wouldn’t affect only him, it was critical to the future of the entire town.
At the moment he was focused not on the decisions to be made, but on the kid. Something was off. He didn’t see into other people’s minds the way he did animals. A couple of times he’d been around Springer babies and gotten what might’ve been a hint of communication, a brief glimpse into what they were feeling in that moment, but babies had no words, and the human brain was more complicated than that of an animal. But he’d very clearly caught that mine from Mia.
A new thought almost stopped him in his tracks. Mia wasn’t a Springer, was she? Gabi had displayed no indication of having Springer ancestry. If she had, whatever abilities she’d inherited would’ve come to life when she’d arrived in Mystic Springs. Gradually, most likely, but she’d been here a year so if it was going to happen it would’ve happened by now. What about the kid’s father? Gabi never mentioned him. She didn’t wear a wedding ring, didn’t talk about any past relationships. Not that he would know. She hadn’t said a dozen words on their date, and nothing she’d said had been personal. He had a feeling if he started asking personal questions she’d shut him down. He had to know, but he also needed to tread lightly.
Maybe he could ask Cindy. Then again, women seemed to stick together, like a tribe of some kind. He probably wouldn’t get anywhere with Cindy, or any of Gabi’s other friends.
At the corner, he stopped. “I’ll head home and get that dog food…”
Gabi spun on him. She looked a little bit maniacal. “No. Not yet. Maybe I can get Mia settled in her own bed, and dig out some of her favorite toys, and while I distract her you and Judge can sneak out. She’s a baby. She’ll forget all about this weird… whatever.”
He didn’t think so. “We can try.”
“That’s not at all encouraging,” she said, her voice tight as she forced a smile at Mia.
Her house was the second one past Mike Benedict’s place. The house in between was vacant, like so many homes in town. He was just old enough to remember when this had been a healthy and decently populated place to live. The houses on this street, and others, had been filled with families. Downtown Mystic Springs had been a busy place with few, if any, empty storefronts. Still a small town, but not like his. Too many Springers had moved on. The magic had begun to fade. Did that mean it was time to embrace the isolation so many had avoided to this point? Would that move save what was left of Mystic Springs?
Gabi and Mia lived in a red-brick single story house. Azalea bushes which had budded but not yet bloomed had been planted on either side of the front steps. The porch was too small for a rocking chair, was really not much more than a square of painted wood as a floor and a moderate overhang that might protect someone from the rain if it wasn’t coming in at an angle.
“I can come back,” he said.
Gabi tossed a sharp glance his way. “Don’t you dare.”
The rest of that thought was unfinished. Don’t you dare leave me alone with these two.
“If I can get her to sleep,” Gabi said, “you and Judge can sneak away. Mia doesn’t always sleep this late in the afternoon, but Cindy said she didn’t nap after lunch so it’s possible she’ll go down.”
Mia in her arms, Gabi walked toward the bedrooms. Judge followed. “No, no,” she said gently. “You stay with Silas. Go, Judge. Go to Silas.”
The bloodhound didn’t pay a bit of attention to the words, but stubbornly stuck by her side.
“Come on, dog, give me a break,” Gabi said.
Silas lowered himself to the sofa in the living room, which looked to be furnished with whatever had been left behind because it hadn’t been worth moving, along with a few mismatched pieces she’d probably picked up at the antique store. Junk store was more appropriate, but to each his own.
He said, “Judge,” once, and the bloodhound came to him. Silas not only saw the dog’s displeasure, he felt it. It was strong, stronger than it should’ve been. Unhappily, Judge settled at Silas’s feet.
Mia started to scream again. The sound carried through the small house. That noise was downright piercing; it distressed Judge, who was torn between his new friend and his alpha.
How could something so small make so much noise? Now and then, mostly disguised by the racket the kid was making, he heard shushing sounds f
rom Gabi. Soothing words that did not soothe. Sighs. Maybe a curse word, or two.
In minutes, Gabi and Mia returned to the living room. As soon as they appeared, Judge relaxed.
“I can’t stand it,” Gabi said. “I can’t stand for her to be so miserable.”
She put Mia down with caution, making sure the kid was steady before letting go. The sniffling child shook off her distress, squealed in delight, and ran to Judge to plop down not beside the dog but on him. Little arms wrapped around Judge’s neck.
It took no special abilities to realize that these two were now content.
Gabi sat down in a chair across from Silas and kicked off her shoes. Feet tucked beneath her, she relaxed visibly. She was resigned, it seemed.
Mia rested her head on her new friend and slept. Judge lowered his head to the rug and closed his eyes, too. Yes, they were content. Silas felt their bond, it washed over him like a wave. If he wanted that kind of commitment, that kind of connection, he might be jealous.
He listened as best he could for another hint that the kid was a Springer. Another mine; a word of happiness; anything.
Nothing.
“It appears I’m the proud owner of a bloodhound,” Gabi said.
“It appears so.”
“I’ll need a list,” she said sensibly. “Dog food, what kind, how much, and how often. Are there any meds? Shots? Is Judge an inside dog or an outside dog? How old is he? Does he need to be, you know, fixed?”
Judge narrowly opened one eye and glanced up at Silas.
“I’ll take care of everything, don’t worry.”
Gabi let her head fall back against the chair. She closed her eyes. “I never had a pet, growing up. Mom was allergic to cats and she said a dog would be too expensive and too much trouble. She argued that they’d make too much mess, and they’d just die anyway.” She screwed her lips up, for a moment. “Looking back, I bet she wasn’t allergic to cats. She just didn’t want one. I had a turtle, once,” she added with a sigh.
Beauty and the Beastmaster (Mystic Springs Book 3) Page 3
