by Kari August
She gasped. “Well, I never. I will have you know that I am famous for my charity, and the day I listen to such disrespect from a scoundrel like you—”
Charlie started pulling her towards the door. “Easy, Duchess. Let’s get back in the car.”
She looked at Charlie. He was laughing.
She huffed and proceeded to her seat. Charlie sat down behind the wheel, still holding the dog.
“What are we going to do?”
He smiled. “I’m taking him. I like him.”
“You will?”
He glanced over. “Yes.”
She slumped down. “Oh, thank God.” But just when she was feeling some relief, she noticed what Charlie was doing next—feeding the puppy some of his disgusting meat out of the package. “You can’t do that!”
Charlie shrugged. “Look, I refuse to go back in there for more food. The dog is obviously starving.”
“You will regret it.”
“Actually, probably you will.” He plopped the dog onto her seat. “You hold him for a while.” He started his car. “Time for me to drive.”
Fifteen minutes later the pooch threw up all over her skirt, dribbling down her legs. She glared at Charlie.
He chuckled. “Look at it this way, Duchess. At least now you blend in better with your current surroundings.”
With all the windows of the car down—and the puppy eagerly sticking his head out her own—they finally entered Jackson a half-hour later. They saw some houses and then rows of shops. Charlie turned abruptly into a parking lot.
“Hey. A TMaximum store. Wait here with our dog. I’ll see if I can get us some quick outfits. Can I look at your collar?”
She glanced down. “I suppose. Why? Is it folded over wrong?”
He then started fumbling with the back of her blouse.
She swatted him away. “What are you doing?”
He appeared surprised. “Looking for your size. I saw it—you really are slim for your height.”
She didn’t know how to respond. The ideal in her time was for an extent of plumpness—as a sign of being rich enough to afford food—something she had never been able to achieve no matter how much she ate. But she had gotten the odd impression that some strived for gauntness in this century. Anyways, it was none of his business what her measurements were—the gall—and she turned to give him a tart reply when she saw he was already on his way to the store.
After what seemed like only a few minutes later, he returned, smiling. “I just grabbed what I could find fast. I’ve actually never even been in one of these kinds of stores. They have a lot of stuff.” He dropped a large bag between them. He drove the car out of the lot. “Next stop groceries. I better buy some puppy food.”
She nodded. “I would say so.” But she frowned disapprovingly from the car as she watched him later exit the market to enter a liquor store next door. She wasn’t a total teetotaler—an occasional glass of wine—but she had appreciated that her husband Charles had abstained from getting drunk. She wondered if she could somehow later empty out those bottles Charlie was buying.
Charlie placed his purchases a few minutes later into his car trunk and returned to behind the wheel. “I got him a collar and leash. Give me pooch for a sec so I can put them on.”
The puppy played with Charlie while he placed both on him. They then merged onto the main street again and drove about a mile with Charlie glancing around.
“What are you looking for now?”
“This.” He turned abruptly again. “A deserted road.”
“Why?”
He stopped the car. “We should change out of our clothes. The Wort Hotel where I made a reservation for the next three nights is nice. We shouldn’t go in looking like ragamuffins—”
“I beg your pardon. I didn’t appear as anything of the sort until you fed him that disgusting—”
“Why don’t you give poochy a quick walk while I change.” Charlie started stripping out of his shirt.
“Oh, my heavens!” How scandalous for him to be undressing in front of her. She hurried out of the car with the dog and hustled down the road. But she had caught a glimpse. Charlie was so . . . so . . . well-built that she wanted to take another peek.
But a moment later he called, “Hey, Duchess. You can turn around now.”
She looked back. Charlie stood next to his car door in a neat appearing shirt and slacks—like the image she had seen of him at the party. He was slipping on some shoes.
She walked back, gawking.
He glanced at her, puzzled. “What?”
“You look good.”
He half-smiled. “Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it. I’m only wearing this outfit when I have to.” He pulled the bag from the car. “Here. Try on what I bought you.” He took the leash from her.
She stared at him. “You expect me to change here on the road.”
He shrugged. “Nobody’s around.”
“You are.”
“I’ll walk poochy.” He started down the road.
She couldn’t help being curious as to what he had bought her. She pulled a dress out with a colorful print—the fabric was cheap compared to what she was accustomed to, but, oh, it was so pretty.
She took off her outer garments and was just about to slip on the dress when she looked up to see Charlie taking a quick glance at her.
“Oh, my God!” She tried covering herself quickly. She was furious. Not only had he looked at her, but he had caused her to use the name of the Lord in vain. She never did that.
Then he chuckled. “Sorry, Duchess. I was just seeing if you were finished. I momentarily forgot not to look. Honest. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
The rogue! She glanced back at him again. He was still walking away from her. She tried positioning the side mirror of the car so she could take a look at herself. The simple dress actually fit her decently. “You can come back now, Charlie.”
He turned around and walked towards her—just gazing—without saying a word. She tried catching herself from feeling disappointed. After all, what did it matter to her what he thought of her appearance? And in a cheap dress no less. But then he grinned. “You look like a million bucks—well actually, it was on sale—but you look great, Duchess.”
She held back a smile. “Thank you. Perhaps I’ll let you pick out more clothes for me.”
“Oh, no thanks.” He shook his head. “I hate shopping.”
“I was definitely only kidding.” She grinned.
For a moment they stared at each other, smiling widely, and she noted this slight bit of a truce between them again—or perhaps something more—and she didn’t know how she felt about it. But the puppy started straining on the leash, breaking the mood.
Charlie opened the back door of the car and lifted the dog in. “Make yourself comfortable.” The dog began ripping at a dirty sock thrown on the floor. “Yeah, I didn’t want that thing anyways. Might have to wash it.”
A few minutes later, they were again on the main road. “So, Duchess, I’m going to park about a block from the hotel until I find out if they allow dogs. I’ll book you a room also. Then I’ll come back to the car to get you both.”
“Fine. What is this rafting about that all these places have on their signs?”
“I take it you’ve never done it before.”
“No.”
“Hmmm. Oh! That’s the hotel.” He swerved to a stop at the curb and got out of the car. “I’ll be back.”
Charlie waited at the reception desk for the clerk to look up his reservation—and find a room for Mags—and realized he didn’t know how he felt about . . . quite a few things.
Did he actually like her company?
Was he truly having a good time?
And did he want another dog and all the responsibility that went along with that?
Well, too late, no matter what the answer. And anyways, he was sure he would fall in love with poochy the same way he had with all his other dogs in the past.
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br /> But his mind returned to her.
He had actually caught a glimpse of her while she changed because he had actually forgotten for a moment not to look. He had wanted to see if he could return to the car. That was all. But what he had seen was beautiful—a slim, stunning, tall figure. She was certainly shyer than he had expected, and he had felt truly embarrassed by his thoughtless action when he had seen her concern—his sis would have given him the riot act for that. But now he couldn’t help imagining what she would look like with all her clothes off.
Then he caught himself. He should definitely not try conjuring that.
He looked around the lobby. He had reserved this hotel in particular—Charlie had always liked staying in historic inns, and this one was on the national register. The ads had shown broad, sweeping stairs in the entrance that appeared attractive. But he could see that the pictures had not done the place justice. The lobby was decorated with rich carpets and furniture, western paintings and sculptures, and a huge stuffed buffalo. Okay, not for everyone, but Charlie loved it.
He turned back to the counter. Ah, oh. The man was now shaking his head.
Charlie walked slowly back to the car. She was not going like this. He leaned casually over her open window. “So, uh, Mags, there is a bit of a problem.”
She waited for him to continue.
“See, we’ve arrived on one of their busiest weeks of the year. They’re all booked. They don’t have an extra room for you—”
She gasped. “Oh, no!”
“And he called around to see if any of the other good inns in town had lodging available, but, alas, no—”
“Please say ‘You’re kidding’—”
“And see, because we spent that time shopping and are arriving now, it is very likely all the camping places are full, so, uh, I suggest we just—”
“Don’t say it—”
“—share a room.”
She looked at him horrified.
Charlie frowned and thought a moment. For God’s sake. It wasn’t that horrible. He wasn’t that much of a goon. He could feel something snapping in him again—she definitely had the knack to bring this side out of him.
He had just been about to say that he could sleep on the couch or floor of the room but decided against it. He blasted on with some more unpleasant news. “Oh, and they don’t take pets so we’re going to have to sneak him in.”
“Sneak him in? Like some common criminals?”
He nodded. “But the place is real nice—got great reviews—except people advised not booking a room above the bar which kept them up late with the din. And that was what I had done, but then I thought, we actually want the clamor to cover up any barking he might do so I changed rooms—much to the surprise of the front desk—and requested one above this bar. They didn’t have any with a couple double beds so we’ll have to”—he couldn’t wait to see her expression on this one—“share a king-size bed.”
She gaped speechless—just like a fish out of water again. Which reminded him of another fact. “Oh, and the room is not available until later so let’s go fishing. In the Grand Tetons. Time to change back into our play clothes once more . . . on that road.” He smiled, somehow satisfied with himself.
Chapter Thirteen
“Stop! Oh, stop, stop, stop!”
Charlie pulled the truck to the side of the road. After they had changed clothes—Charlie in some of his usual dirty fishing attire and Mags in an outfit she had pulled out of her luggage—he had driven to the airport. Once there he had picked up the rental truck he had reserved, parked his car in the lot, and then transferred everything over to the new vehicle. This part of his trip Out West he had planned in detail—it was supposed to be his special treat of the vacation. He had read about Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone—that the mountain driving could become difficult for some cars—and had rented the truck until he departed the area.
They had then entered Grand Teton National Park, picked up some brochures and a fishing permit, and aimed towards Jenny Lake. While the pooch snoozed in back, Mags had avidly read the pamphlets, scarcely looking at the scenery.
She had finally broken her silence at one point to inform Charlie, with some obvious pleasure, that he should not refer to the Park as the “Grand Tetons.”
“There is only one ‘Grand Teton’ mountain.” She had then glanced out the window. “I think that big one over there. It says here you should either say just ‘The Tetons’ or ‘Grand Teton National Park.’” She had then returned to her reading.
But now she had just gazed out again and yelled at him to stop.
“I have to take a longer look.” She stared a moment at the view. “Oh, Charlie. Have you ever seen anything lovelier?” She smiled back at him.
The view was impressive. Across the big lake, mountains soared steeply upward. He knew lakes with mountains could be seen anywhere around the globe, but these mountains seemed to come out of the water itself—with almost no shore—and ascended at an incredibly sheer rise.
He glanced in back. “Poochy is still sleeping. Want to try fishing here?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve gone hunting, but I’ve never fished before.”
“Easy as pie.” He got out of the truck and she followed. He gave her some of the gear, and they walked along a short path to a grassy beach. He attached a lure and showed her how the reel on the rod let out line, before stating, “Generally speaking, what you want to do is flick the pole first to three o’clock, then back to about eleven.”
She looked at him blankly. He demonstrated with his own rod. She made a partially successful attempt.
“Almost there.” He stood behind her and moved with her. On the third try, her line flew a decent distance.
She turned around excitedly. “Oh, look how far I threw, Charlie!”
He nodded. “Okay, you’re on your own now.”
They fished for a while, both content not to talk, but take in the serene moment. He doubted they would catch anything. Apparently, this time of year it was best fishing from a boat in the deeper water. Just when he was about to suggest moving on, she shouted, “I think I got one. I got one.”
Sure enough her line was taut. “Reel it in, Mags. Reel it in.”
“What?”
He stood behind her and showed her what to do. A moment later a fish plopped onto the grass. He picked it up as she stared at it. “What kind is it?”
“Miss Trout Expert is asking me?”
“A trout?”
“Yeah, the kind we should toss back.”
“Oh, hurry. We have to save it.”
She did a little dance, worrying, as he worked on the fish. Finally, he placed it gently into the shallows.
“Look. He’s swimming!” She took a step towards him excitedly as if to give him a hug or a kiss, but then refrained herself. She was the most inhibited woman he had ever met . . . or else, wholly repelled by him. He inwardly frowned at the thought until a moment later a yelp came from the car.
They looked over. His puppy was trying to get out of the window.
“Wait! I’m coming, honeybun,” she exclaimed.
He watched her scramble back to the car—nice ass—and grab his pooch through the window. She snuggled with his pup affectionately. Charlie refused to be jealous of his own dog.
Later, driving back towards town, she inquired, “What are you going to name your puppy?”
He pondered a moment. He usually picked old family names for his pets. “Waldemar. W A L D E M A R.”
She stared back at him.
“What?”
“I’ve never heard of anyone naming their dog Waldemar.”
“One of my grandfathers was named Waldemar. It’s a dignified, strong name. I think it means ‘famous ruler.’”
“You’re calling your dog after your grandfather?”
He snorted. “Better than honeybun.”
“No, it’s not. Honeybun is sweet.”
Waldemar was currently
attacking another sock in the back, ripping it to shreds. “My dog is not sweet. He’s a warrior, and I think we better find some open land to let him run around and wear himself out before we take him back to the hotel.”
She nodded. “Feed him, too.”
“Yeah, that way he might—”
“Don’t say it—”
“—poop.”
She glowered at him.
“What? Poop is not a . . . what was that you said? . . . oh, yeah, a derogatory word.”
“Poop is a derogatory word and should not be used in front of ladies.”
He chuckled. “I know. I said it to annoy you.”
She stared at him some more.
“What?” He kept driving.
“So, you admit to trying to bother me on purpose.”
“Uh, huh.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to figure that out.”
“Well, let me know when you have an answer.”
“Sure thing, Duchess. After we play with Waldemar, let’s try to find an outdoor restaurant where they won’t mind dogs. I’m hungry. Then we can sneak him into the hotel.”
“Oh, can’t wait.”
A couple hours later, their plan of action was set. Mags had Waldemar in a backpack securely slung behind her. Waldemar could only peek out slightly through the tie at the top. Charlie was following closely behind her so anyone looking would have a limited view of what she was carrying.
They entered the hotel and walked across the lobby. Luckily, nobody currently was at the front desk. They quietly climbed the big set of stairs and walked stealthily towards their room—Charlie had given detailed instructions to Mags which way to turn.
Once in front of their door, he gave her the old-fashioned style room key. All had progressed satisfactorily except now Mags seemed to be having difficulty opening the door. Then Charlie looked sideways and saw a maid walking down the corridor towards them, pushing a cart. She hadn’t noticed them yet.
But Waldemar had seen her and gave a short bark.
Charlie quickly grabbed Mags from behind as if in a hug and tried pushing on Waldemar who began squiggling in the pack. The maid glanced over so Charlie lowered his head and nuzzled the long neck of Mags as if trying to kiss her.
