Let Me Love You

by Kristin Miller

  “No problem.” Joey hopped off the truck, planting his feet firmly on the ground. Where they belonged. “I’ll do that.”

  Chapter Four

  Rachael plopped into the chair in Lucy’s kitchen and leaned across the table. “So…how was your date last night?”

  “Well, I said I wanted to date his brother.” Lucy scratched her head and took another drink of coffee. Guilt had been festering in her belly all morning long. The coffee did little to squelch the feeling. “Wait, I take that back. I said I’d be interested in having a good time with his brother.”

  “You said you wanted to date Dane while you were out with him?” Rachael’s voice shot so high, she nearly squeaked. “And I thought I gave Cole a hard time when we first started dating.”

  “No, no, no.” Lucy wagged her finger. “Joey and I went out and had a good time. One time, one date. That’s not the same as dating. Anyway, I’m pretty sure that’ll go down in history as the worst date ever. I’m going to have to apologize for letting him kiss me.”

  “Hold up.” Rachael put up her hand. “Joey kissed you?”

  “Yeah, but it was a misunderstanding. We got into this really intense eye-lock.” Lucy leaned over the tiny kitchen table and brought her face close to Rachael’s. “And then when I said I wanted to say something, but I wasn’t sure what, he took it the wrong way. Honest mistake. I’m irresistible.” She winked at her friend and then sat back in her chair, drinking the last of her second cup of coffee. “Refill for you, too?”

  “No, thanks.” Rachael stared, a stunned expression on her face as she stroked her cup. “That was…ballsy of you, Luce.”

  “What?”

  “Kissing and ditching.”

  Wow, when she said it that way, it sounded harsh.

  “I just know what I want.” Lucy pushed back from the table and strode into the kitchen. She dug through a basket on the counter for a hazelnut K-Cup. “I didn’t want to hurt him, but I didn’t want to lead him on either.”

  “Well,” Rachael said, “no one can say you’re indirect.”

  “Exactly,” Lucy mumbled. “Besides, I know it was harsh, and I’m going to take care of it.”

  “How was it?” Rachael leaned over the table. “You know…kissing him?”

  “You’ve kissed him before,” Lucy said, punching brew on the Keurig. “So you know he’s good.”

  Rachael rolled her eyes. “He’s got soft lips and knows what to do with his hands when he kisses, I’ll give him that. I love when guys do that thing where they cup your cheeks and tilt your head to get a better angle at your lips.”

  Lucy closed her eyes and moaned just thinking about it. Joey had caressed her face when their lips met. He’d pulled her to him as if he couldn’t resist her, yet his touch was soft. Almost reverent. There was heat behind the kiss, too. A surprise that had her stomach flipping from the mere thought. A guy hadn’t made her feel that way in…well, probably ever. Joey and that kiss had taken her off guard.

  “But every kiss is different,” Rachael babbled on. “What’s most important is whether or not you felt that thing…”

  “I didn’t get anywhere near his thing, Rachael. We kissed. That was it.”

  “Lucy,” Rachael said with a laugh, “you’re incredible.”

  She bowed with a theatrical hand wave. “Why, thank you.”

  “What did he say about Dane?”

  “That’s just it. I don’t really know how it ended.” Lucy refilled her third cup and stared out the kitchen window that overlooked the vineyard. “I don’t know if Dane’s going to call me, or if I’m going to call him, or if he’s going to show up here and ask me out. I have no idea if Joey will say anything to him at all.”

  “But Joey said he’d hook you two up?”

  “I guess.” She plopped into the seat across from her friend and sipped on her drink. “I don’t really know what Joey’s going to say, but I hope he doesn’t make me sound desperate. That’s the last thing I want. I don’t need any man, let alone Dane Brackett. I just thought we could have a good time together.”

  Rachael glared at Lucy over the rim of her cup.

  “What?” Lucy prodded. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  As Rachael set down her coffee, Lucy got the feeling she was in for it.

  “You’re right, you don’t need a man,” Rachael said, in that lecturing tone of hers, “but when you find the right one, you want him near you every moment of every day. And before you know it, you can’t imagine your life without him.”

  Lucy couldn’t listen to much more of that crazy talk. Of course Rachael would be spouting notions of love and butterflies and rainbows. She was in a relationship with a rock star, someone who wanted to be involved in her life, someone who loved her, yet didn’t pressure her to do things she didn’t want to do.

  He might’ve been the perfect man.

  Why couldn’t men and women simply go out when they wanted, have fun together doing whatever they wanted, and when things went south, go their separate ways?

  It wasn’t about loyalty. Lucy could be loyal to one man. She could probably love one too, if he were good to her and made her laugh daily. (That was a definite requirement.)

  No, loyalty wasn’t the issue. It was the F-word that made her insides squirm.

  Forever.

  She shuddered at the mere thought of being trapped with one person until the end of her days. She craved adventure and yearned for personal space.

  After they finished their coffee date and Rachael went back to manage her inn, Lucy showered and dressed in a pair of black slacks and bright green sweater. She glossed her lips with “Rock ’n’ Red” and twisted her hair up, using a claw to hold her curls in place. She stepped out of her studio and into the bright morning sun. The rays of light made everything more vibrant: the leaves on the vines greener, sky crystal blue, and the winery in the distance a rich shade of mocha.

  It was going to be a great day.

  She had the crazy urge to head to the station during lunch to talk to Joey. She’d apologize for the way their date had ended, and then figure out exactly what he was going to say to Dane. But she was far from desperate. The more she thought about it, the more she decided to follow the cardinal rule in dating and wait three days before making contact with him. Although they hadn’t been on an actual date, he did buy her a beer.

  And there was no way she’d forget that kiss any time this millennium.

  Gearing up for work, Lucy hooked her Bluetooth on her ear and strode past the rows of wine troughs in the outdoor cellar.

  Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of movement spooked her. One of the workers, out of breath and stumbling, emerged from a row of vines. When he spotted her, he changed course and veered her direction. It was Matthew, one of her oldest workers.

  “What is it?” Her heart raced as worst-case scenarios raced through her head. It was harvest; thousands of things could go wrong. “What’s happened?”

  As he came close, he slowed and put his hands on his knees in an effort to catch his breath. “The back…there’s a dog stuck in the bottom.”

  Her brows pulled together in confusion. “In the bottom of what?”

  “The gulley…” He huffed and stood upright, his giant belly sticking out from beneath his wine-stained StoneMill T-shirt. Clumps of mud stuck to his pants and dirtied his arms. “He’s stuck on somethin’ in the mud. He won’t come out and he’s going to fall under.”

  What the hell?

  “Show me,” she said, and charged toward the shed, Matthew following hot on her heels.

  Chapter Five

  Lucy unlocked the shed doors, swung them open wide, and then hopped onto one of the four-wheelers. She motioned for Matthew to take the other one. Since the sheds were locked, she had a habit of leaving the keys in the ignitions. She turned the key on her four-wheeler and bolted out of the shed, glancing back to make sure Matthew had followed.

  As they barreled down the dirt path leadin
g to the back end of the property and Matthew raced to catch up, Lucy hollered, “Why didn’t you try to get the dog out?”

  “I did!” He held up his hand. Blood dripped down his forearm, staining his shirt. “The sucker bit me!”

  Shit.

  Accident reports piled up in her head as she shifted gears and hugged the west corner of the property. Beside her, off in the distance and up a steep hill, the helipad disappeared into a cloud of dust. She and Joey had been there only last night. He’d handed her a beer and then kissed her under the stars.

  “There!” Matthew called, pointing to where the gully deepened into a sharp ravine. “He’s down there.”

  She skidded to a stop and turned off the engine, clicking her Bluetooth to call for help as she dismounted.

  “Skylie,” she said when her assistant answered. “Call animal control and have them take the winery’s eastern exit. Meet them there and then take them to the back end of the property. I’m here now.”

  She jogged to the edge of the gulley and scanned through the river of crud. A German shepherd pup had gotten stuck in mud up to its neck. Its gray fur was matted and filthy, and its neck and face exposed its emaciated state. The poor thing looked like it hadn’t eaten in weeks. Its big round eyes were sunken and solemn, though when it spotted her it squirmed excitedly.

  “Tell them we’ve got a German shepherd stray stuck on something in the gulley.” She’d nearly forgotten about Matthew’s injury. “And bring the first-aid kit. Matthew’s hurt.”

  “On it!” Skylie said, and disconnected the call.

  “I heard him cry from the harvester,” Matthew said. “I thought it was a woman screaming for help. I came down here to check and saw the little guy, but he wouldn’t let me help him.”

  “Okay, okay,” Lucy said, heart beating out of her chest. “Don’t move!”

  The dog twitched and tried to scramble, but its hind legs seemed to be stuck on something. It whimpered, breaking Lucy’s heart. She couldn’t stand idly by, watching helplessly as the pup fought to be free.

  “You went down there?” Lucy checked out the mud and blood splotches on Matthew’s legs. “Which way’d you go?”

  He wiped his hands on his shirt. “That tree over there’s got roots to help you down. I hung on to those as long as I could. He wouldn’t come to me, but maybe he’ll come to you. He sure seemed eager when he saw you.”

  Desperation had probably set in.

  She pulled her iPhone from her back pocket and checked the time. How long would it take animal control to show? They had a facility on the east end of Blue Lake, and she was clear across town. Shouldn’t take that long…

  The dog whimpered and fought against whatever was holding its hind legs. It sank into the mud, disappearing completely.

  “There he goes,” Matthew said drily.

  Bobbing back to the surface, the dog appeared once more. Although with the mud covering its head, it couldn’t see. Panic took hold over the dog as it fought harder and opened its mouth to bark. Nothing but a squeal came out.

  “Damn it,” Lucy said, and jolted into action.

  She kicked off her shoes and shoved her iPhone into the toe of one of them. Taking a deep breath, Lucy ran to where a giant oak tree had been planted on the back bank and leaned far into the gulley. The mud was slick and sticky, and pulled at her feet from the first step. She held on to the trunk and guided herself down the roots. She sank to her knees, and then her thighs. The mud was damn cold, seeping right through her clothes and chilling her skin.

  Hearing her approach from somewhere behind, the dog whipped its head around and struggled to open its eyes.

  “It’s okay, boy,” she crooned. “Or girl. It’s okay.”

  The dog’s silent pleas turned to a whimper. It lowered its head until its muzzle touched the mud.

  “Your voice is calmin’ him down,” Matthew said from his squatted position on the bank. “He freaked out when I got down there. Keep talkin’ to him.”

  She sighed, moving deeper until the mud rose above her waist and seeped into her sweater. God, there was mud in her belly button! When she’d woken this morning and had dreamed of heading to a spa for a mud bath, this was not what she’d had in mind. The universe sure had a twisted sense of humor.

  “It’s okay,” she said, reaching out for the pup. “You’re a pretty doggy, aren’t you?” No collar. Burrs stuck in the fur by its neck. “You look like you’ve been on your own for a while. Someone needs to give you some good ole-fashioned TLC. You’re going to be okay. We’re here to help you.”

  As she reached the dog’s tail, she reached out and brushed its tip. The dog thrashed around, snapping for her hand. She jerked back.

  “You don’t like to be touched?” she thought aloud. “Aww, someone must’ve hurt you.” She reached out again. “I wouldn’t do that. Will you trust me to get you out? Could you do that so we can both get the hell out of this mud?” The dog whimpered. “I’m ruining my brand-new sweater. I got it on clearance, but it’s one of my favorites.” She really needed to stop thinking aloud. “Come on, lovely.”

  As she took another step closer, her foot caught on something sharp. She tripped, falling face-first into the mud. When she regained her footing and stood upright, she swiped mud from her eyes and mouth. Tiny glops hung from her lashes. The metallic flavor clung to her lips.

  Freaking wonderful.

  “Ms. Stone, are you all right?” Matthew hollered from the safety of the dirt road.

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  Oh, she’d be fine all right. After she saved this damned dog and took the longest, hottest shower of her life.

  In the distance, the familiar sound of a fire truck siren wailed.

  Skylie must’ve called 911 when Lucy reported Matthew was hurt. Where was Skylie, anyway? And where was animal control?

  Carefully, Lucy felt with her feet for whatever had tripped her. Was it a pile of machinery from one of their harvesters? Garbage someone had tried to dispose of on her property? As she kicked it, the dog cried out.

  “I’ve gotcha,” she said, moving her foot over the chunk of metal. “I know what’s the matter now. We’ll get you out.”

  The ground rumbled as a fire truck appeared on the bank amid a giant dust plume. Within seconds, Joey stood next to Matthew on the bank. He wore black tactical pants with huge pockets, clunky boots, and a white undershirt that pulled taut over his muscles. He looked relaxed, shoving his hands in his front pockets as he took in the scene and listened to what Matthew had to say.

  Although Lucy couldn’t hear what they were saying, Matthew’s hand motions were enough to let her know that he was describing the entire scenario. As Matthew pointed toward Lucy, he flung himself forward to mimic her fall, and smacked himself in the forehead. Joey chuckled.

  Seriously? Did Matthew really have to describe how she’d biffed face-first into the mud?

  “Hey!” She picked up a wet clod and chucked it at Matthew as hard as she could. It arched high, but she was too deep in the gulley. The clod hit the ground at his feet. “Mind helping me, Joey, or are you too worried about getting dirt on those spit-shined boots of yours?”

  Matthew kinked his head to the side and whispered something to Joey. Joey laughed again, but this time he cut his laugh short. He lifted Matthew’s arm, eyeing the bite mark carefully. He asked something. Matthew answered. His gaze shot to Lucy as he asked Matthew something else. Smiling, Matthew put up his hands and shook his head.

  Was no one going to help out?

  Fine. She could do it by herself. She always had, and always would.

  With a huff, Lucy returned her attention to the dog. It seemed calmer than when she’d first arrived. As gently as she could, she reached into the mud and shifted the piece of metal around. The hunk of steel was square, and propped up on something that felt rubber and round.

  A tire.

  No, she corrected. Piles of tires.

  As she lowered herself into the mud to get a
better feel, tilting her head so as not to get anything else on her face, Joey charged into the gulley. No roots for handholds. No careful walk down the slope. He leaped over rocks, slid on his backside when the side got too steep, and then hurtled right up to his waist in mud. Lucy squealed and cowered from the nasty tidal wave that sloshed at her.

  “Couldn’t take the easy way down, Brackett?” she said, holding on to the steel so the dog wouldn’t sway with the wave. “You must like mud.”

  “No, I’m just a sucker for a woman in distress. What’s he caught on?” Joey’s face was stern, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he took in the scene. “Is it his back legs or his tail?”

  “Umm, its back legs.” As Lucy pushed on the metal harder and lifted, the dog whimpered and sank further. “At least I think that’s what got it held up.”

  Animal control’s SUV pulled up and a woman emerged with a pole and a cage.

  “What do you say we work your way out of here?” Joey reached into the mud as if he hadn’t seen the cavalry arrive to help him out. “Calm down, boy. You’ll be out of here in no time.”

  The dog rose up again, but this time the metal came loose from the tires.

  “Wait,” Lucy said, feeling around the steel form. “It’s…a cage of some kind.”

  “A cage?” Joey’s hands met hers at the back end of the metal box. They were soft and searching, a gentle brush through the mud, and then the warmth of his touch was gone. “It’s for cats,” he said decidedly. “But the front gate is broken.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Not that I have time to explain it, but”—he took her hand and led her to feel around the cage—“narrow and rectangular, door at the back, twisted wires on the front by the pup’s foot.”