by Liz Talley
“Poor baby, you’re covered in ticks. Oh, and fleas. Yuck.”
Henry appeared over the rise of the small hill. “You got it?”
“Yes, poor thing is skin and bones and is”—she glanced down—“a girl.”
The dog had gone dead still against her, but Sunny still stroked its mangy fur. “Can you help me up?”
Henry came behind her and lifted her beneath her arms so she could find her feet. She brushed against his big body, and even in the midst of a stray-dog crisis, she registered the solid warmth, the way he smelled so manly and good. She longed to lean against him for a moment. Just a second or two of pretense. But she didn’t. She couldn’t allow herself any such fancy.
The dog squirmed, wriggling as if its life were on the line.
“That’s enough, doggy. We’re going to get you some help. You can’t stay out here by yourself. You nearly met your maker a few minutes ago.” Sunny squeezed the dog tight, petting its ears, using her sweetest voice.
“What are we going to do with it?” Henry asked.
“Take it to a vet. Do you know one?”
“But you have to go to the high school,” he said, eyeing the dog with an odd expression. “That’s a pitiful excuse for a dog.”
“I think she’s pretty. Or will be once she gets cleaned up and something better to eat than leftover sandwiches. Let’s help her. It’s the least you could do since you almost killed her.” Sunny started walking back toward the truck.
“You’re going to put that thing in my truck? It’s covered in Lord knows what,” Henry said, following her.
“Do you have a towel by chance?” Sunny asked, conceding that Henry had a point. She would likely have dirt and… no, not fleas… please no fleas… along with dog hair all over her. Not the best way to show up at the high school. Plus Henry had work. Still, they had to do something to help the poor creature.
“Maybe,” Henry muttered, sounding less than enthused at putting a stray pup in his immaculate, leather-soaked cab.
“Are there rescues around here?” she asked, wondering if there was someone they could call to help the pup. She’d done the books, at one in North Carolina and knew the good work the people there had done to get strays and shelter dogs into homes. Maybe the rescue for Rankin County could help them out.
“What do you mean? We can call animal control or take it by the pound.”
“Is it a no-kill shelter?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, it will have a stray hold regardless. Maybe we should take her by there?” Sunny wasn’t capable of paying a huge vet bill or taking the dog home. Betty would shit a brick. She’d always had a no-pets policy for their home, professing to be allergic. But Sunny knew the woman wasn’t allergic. She’d never wanted to care for anything more than herself. She and Eden were lucky they’d been fed each day when they were kids. Well, most days.
“I guess.” Henry stood looking at her. “But maybe we should take it to Bennett Robertson first. I hit it. Maybe not anything beyond a glancing blow.”
“Okay,” Sunny said, still stroking the trembling dog.
Henry rifled in the back of his truck, which housed a toolbox, and withdrew an old blanket before helping her climb into the cab and wrap the dog in the blanket. The warmth of the blanket, which smelled like motor oil, combined with her tight grasp seemed to quell the dog’s shaking. Ten minutes later they pulled into Long Oak Veterinary Clinic.
Dr. Bennett Robertson was new to town. He was also young, enthusiastic, and… expensive. He gave the dog some oral medication designed to get rid of the ticks and fleas, a round of shots, some special dog food to help her put on weight, and an appointment for the following week. She needed to be spayed and unfortunately had heartworms. Sunny tried to explain it was a stray and it wasn’t her dog, but Dr. Robertson chuckled at the notion.
“She looks pretty attached to you.”
The poor thing kept hiding behind Sunny’s legs, trembling like a leaf clinging to an autumn tree.
“But she’s not mine. She’s a stray. Is there a rescue around this area?” Sunny asked him.
Henry stood silent, hands shoved into his jean pockets.
“Unfortunately, not any longer. Mrs. Eppie Henderson ran the Humane Society, but when she passed last year, it sort of fell apart. There are several rescues in Jackson. I can get you a number. Meanwhile, keep Miss Fancy warm and well-fed. Bathe her once the ticks fall off.”
“Fancy?” Henry echoed.
Bennett pointed to the name at the top of the folder. “That’s what it says.”
Henry looked at Sunny. “You named it?”
“I had to tell them something. So I went with Fancy.”
Henry snorted.
“Like the Reba McEntire song. She might have been born plain white trash…”
“But Fancy was her name,” Bennett finished with a laugh. “I like it.”
“But she’s not white trash,” Henry said, his meaning somehow deeper than intended. Sunny felt warmth travel up her spine. When they’d been in high school, she’d once told him she felt a lot like the subject of that country song… except her mama hadn’t exactly told her to sell her body to a man. Though come to think of it, if Betty had thought she could reap something by whoring her daughter out, she might have been more apt to buy her a red, velvet-trimmed dancing dress that fit her good.
“Nope. She’s a down-on-her-luck doggy, but we’re going to help her,” Sunny said, stroking the trembling dog’s head. The mutt leaned hard against her, as if she could melt into Sunny. Sunny felt her heart expand in her chest. She didn’t have much, but she could save this one little dog. Surely she could find someone to help the dog get into rescue or a home in which to get fat and lazy.
Henry rolled his eyes and followed Dr. Robertson out to the front desk. Sunny noted him withdrawing a credit card and started to protest. But then she remembered how little she had in her checking account. Henry had almost killed the little dog with his big truck… and she knew very well he had the cash to shell out.
She carried Fancy to the truck, settling her in her lap, murmuring endearments to the quaking pup. “It’s okay, Fancy girl. I’ll make sure you find a good home. It’s the least I can do for you.”
Henry opened the door, tossing the bag of food into the back. “What now?”
Sunny tapped on her phone, calling Aunt Ruby Jean. “Hey, Auntie dearest. I need a favor. Don’t you have a dog crate left over from when you had Ranger?”
Henry walked around the perimeter of the freshly poured concrete pad that was the start of the new gym for the high school. “Looks good, Ted.”
Ted Newsom, his site manager, nodded. “We’re on schedule. Got some rain coming in over the next few days, but we should be able to catch up if we hire a few extra welders.”
“Talk to Carol. I have to stay on budget on this one. The Jackson Bank and Trust project went too far over the projected costs. No leeway with this one.” He headed toward the small trailer sitting behind the existing gymnasium. The old gym would be converted into a study center and student-run coffee shop once the new gym was operational. He liked the direction the new principal, Sarah Whitmore, was taking. She wanted to teach real-world skills to the students, so she’d initiated a lot of business classes to pair with the academic classes.
He glanced at the main entrance to the high school. After taking the stray dog to Sunny’s aunt’s house, he’d dropped her by the main office and then come here to check on things. He really didn’t need to be on-site today, but he wanted to be on hand if he needed to take Sunny back home.
God, why was he bending over backward to help Sunny?
But he knew.
Already he’d allowed hope to creep inside, which was extra stupid of him. Hadn’t she just said she was working to get the hell out of Morning Glory? But still his stubborn heart persisted with the slight, slim, marginal prayer’s chance that he might… No… No, that was stupid. He and Sunny could be nothing m
ore than… whatever they were now. She wouldn’t forgive him. Hadn’t she told him that long ago? His actions at that frat party had set off a domino effect that blew him apart and left nothing between them but… nothing.
He should leave her the hell alone. Get her a rental car and stop doing what he was doing—trying to be near her. She wasn’t the same Sunny. And he wasn’t the same Henry.
And wasn’t that the problem?
He hadn’t felt like himself in many, many years. Once, he’d been cocksure and full of dreams… and then he’d changed everything when he’d taken Jillian to a room in the fraternity house that night. Jim Beam and lust had spun his life on a dime, and he’d lost the one thing he’d been so sure of.
“Suck it up, buttercup,” he muttered to himself, shuffling toward his desk. Papers covered every square inch. Work had become the balm to his soul since the divorce. He’d thrown himself into wheeling and dealing new clients, scoring new projects for Delmar Construction. His father had balked at Henry’s ambition, but still Henry pushed the company to stretch itself. His efforts had paid off with innovative projects spread across Mississippi. They’d hired more employees and opened a permanent office in Jackson along with a small satellite in Hattiesburg. So even though he wasn’t saving lives, he was making his community better with quality structures that housed the arts, businesses, and, now children.
So he’d failed at all things romantic, but kicking ass in the career department balanced the scales… even if it was doing a job he’d sworn he’d never have. He’d always said he’d never work for his father, but oddly enough, Henry excelled at putting together deals, building innovative spaces, and making lots of money. He clicked on his email, noting all the requests for meetings. Eh, maybe too good at it.
“Hey, boss man,” Carson Thomas said, opening the door and taking off his hard hat. Carson was the head engineer on the gym project. Thirty-three years old and so good at what he did that Henry kept having to raise his salary to keep the buzzards from circling, Carson was Henry’s go-to guy when it came to difficult projects. The gym wasn’t the hardest build they’d done, but the intricacies along with dealing with the Department of Education’s codes meant he’d pulled Carson from a multistory build in Jackson to oversee the Morning Glory High School project.
“I told you not to call me that.”
“I know, but I was never good at following directions. Besides, if it gets your goat, I’m always up for that.” Carson tossed his iPad onto the second desk and pulled out his phone. “Did you talk to Ted? He needs welders.”
“Yeah. I told him to talk to Carol.”
“So who was that fine thing you dropped off at the school office? I’m up to my eyeballs in ass cracks and beer guts twenty-four seven, so you know I didn’t miss what climbed out of your truck.”
“Says the married man. You know Tomeka would skin you alive if she saw you checking out anyone but her,” Henry said, not wanting to talk about Sunny with Carson. Carson didn’t know his history with Sunny. He wasn’t from Morning Glory.
“Meka’d have to catch me first, and since she’s seven months pregnant, my chances are good,” Carson said with a grin. His head engineer was head over heels for his wife, who would deliver their first child that spring, so Henry had no competition from Carson. Not that there was a competition. ’Cause there wasn’t. Henry wasn’t even on the damn field.
“Wasn’t Tomeka all-SEC in track?” At Carson’s nod, he continued. “Yeah, she could be nine months pregnant with triplets and still catch your slow ass.”
“True, but you’re avoiding the question. The redhead… who is she?”
“Sunny Voorhees.”
“Any relation to Eden?”
“Yep, her older sister.”
“Huh, didn’t know Eden had a sister,” Carson said, his mouth curving downward as his eyebrows lifted. “Well, Sunny’s a looker.”
“Always was.” Henry tried to focus on his computer screen but failed. He was as tightly strung as a man awaiting a sentencing, and he wasn’t sure if it was because Sunny was a hop, skip, and jump away or the aftereffects of nearly hitting and killing the stray dog. More than likely, it was because he’d realized exactly how screwed up the situation between him and Sunny was. The woman treated him like he was anyone else… like he hadn’t meant beans to her.
And he hated to feel like he’d never mattered to her.
“Damn it,” he said, accidently clicking out of the browser. He leaned back and closed his eyes. It was obvious he wasn’t going to get any work done that afternoon.
For years he’d allowed his mind to wonder where Sunny was, what she was doing, how she’d changed, and then he hadn’t even recognized her at first sight. The woman had been standing in the hardware store, stooping to get something from the shelf, letting her hair fall over her face. Wait… Sunny hadn’t wanted him to notice her. Something squirmed in his stomach.
But what had he expected?
He’d destroyed something pretty damned special. Lots of people thought young love was ridiculous. Teenagers couldn’t make commitments. They were too immature. But from the very beginning he’d known he and Sunny were different. They complemented each other, could understand what the other felt with a single glance, and had chemistry off the charts. They were supposed to be together forever—Sunny had even made a binder of all their plans—their dream book.
His first glance of Sunny had been in the A wing of Morning Glory High School on the first day of his sophomore year. It had been a weird day for him because he’d never been to “real” school before. His mother had sent him to Saint Pius Catholic School for elementary school and then insisted he attend McCullough Prep in Tennessee. She’d packed him up at the conclusion of fifth grade and moved him north to spend the next four years playing lacrosse and learning Latin with other well-to-do young gentlemen. He often said such with his tongue in cheek because a couple of those “gentlemen” had gone on to slap their wives around, embezzle money, and overdose on heroin. And a few were congressmen. At any rate, he’d finally convinced his father to let him come back home to Morning Glory to finish out high school. He had his eye on attending Ole Miss, his father’s alma mater, and his mother finally conceded that Henry Todd Delmar wasn’t going to attend Yale or Dartmouth. So home he came.
His mother had petitioned for him to attend a small private school in Jackson, but thankfully his father had quashed the idea of so much time spent on a commute. Henry had never attended public school before that day.
But he’d loved Morning Glory High School on first sight.
That day had been hectic and raucous, with a jumble of people of different colors, different beliefs, and different mindsets tearing down his lily-white walls of privilege. He’d loved it all, but the absolute best thing about attending public high school was the girls.
He’d tried not to study the curve of their cheeks, the peek of thigh beneath miniskirts, the way they applied lip gloss at their desks with small compacts and the tempting scent of their perfume when they passed his desk. Hair ribbons, ponytails, and occasionally showing bra straps, they were all so tempting. But nothing had prepared him for the luscious gorgeousness that was Sunny Voorhees.
He’d just shut his locker, stressed because he didn’t want to be late for the lacrosse meeting after school. The one thing he knew for certain was he could play the hell out of lacrosse. Morning Glory High had just started their first team, and dreams of team captain, scholarships, and owning the field knocked around his head. His first day had been good—he’d liked his teachers and somehow had collected a few of the cooler guys to hang with. All he needed for the cherry on top was a stellar day of ripping the rock.
He’d closed his locker and turned toward the exit for the field.
And there was Sunny Voorhees.
She’d been wearing a pink shirt and a pair of jeans that hugged her body and flared at the bottom. Her blond hair tumbled about her shoulders, framing her baby-blue eyes, plump lips, a
nd pert nose. Her arms wrapped around her books, and though she looked like a bombshell, whatever that was, intelligence shone in her eyes, sensibility reflected in her expression, and stubbornness rooted the determined set of her jaw.
He walked toward her. “Hey.”
“Hi,” she said, averting her eyes as pink stained her cheeks. Immediately his heart expanded. She’d blushed. Over him.
He turned around. “I’m Henry.”
She looked over her shoulder. “I’m a freshman.”
Like that was a reason not to talk to him.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” He donned his best flirty smile.
She turned toward him, forehead furrowed. “I don’t know. I mean… I don’t know why I said that.”
Her confusion was damned cute. “Well, freshman, you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She turned the color of the crimson streamers lining the wall, her blue eyes widening. And then she did something that made his heart grow even bigger. She started laughing.
Which made him laugh too.
He took several steps backward, the clock in his head reminding him that he was going to be late. “I’d love to stay and flirt with you, Freshman, but I gotta run.”
He made it down the hall, smiling like someone in a loony bin.
Just as he made to push out the door, she called down the empty hallway, “I’m Sunshine Voorhees.”
Turning, he called back, “You damn sure are.”
And then he ran toward the practice field, knowing his life had changed that day. He had found a place in Morning Glory High School, and he’d found the girl who belonged with him.
His phone vibrated, jarring him from the past and into his reality. A desk. A failed marriage. A shitload of paperwork.
I can get a ride if you need me to.
Sunny, once again, trying to wriggle out of being near him.
His fingers flew over the phone keyboard.
No problem. I can drive you whenever you’re ready. You done?
