Spring Forward

by Catherine Anderson

  He broke contact to catch her bottom lip lightly between his teeth, a teasing titillation that made her wish he were giving other parts of her body the same attention. Her nipples went rock-hard and ached as his chest grazed their tips.

  “Aw, Crystal,” he murmured huskily. “I knew it would be like this. I just never thought I’d be lucky enough—” He broke off to trail tantalizing kisses across her cheek and then that sensitive place below her earlobe. Every erogenous zone in her body felt as if it had ignited. “Dear God, you are so sweet,” he whispered, his voice deep and husky with desire.

  Crystal felt as if she’d been caught in a whirlwind—a leaf helplessly drawn into a cyclonic spiral, too light to be anchored by gravity, too insubstantial to resist the pull.

  And then, as if some invisible hand had jerked Tanner away from her, he was gone. She blinked, so confused and dizzy headed that she couldn’t figure out what had happened.

  “Rip! Damn it, dog!”

  Crystal sprang to her feet, and saw Rip charging toward his bed with his jaws clamped over the mouth of Tanner’s wineglass. She couldn’t believe her eyes. For one thing, it was a wide goblet, but the dog had somehow managed to grab it. Just as he reached his bed, he tipped his head back and his whole body jerked as he swallowed. Tanner was hot on Rip’s heels, but by the time he reached the cushion, Rip had downed all the wine and released the goblet, which rolled on the wood floor.

  Crystal ran over. “What on earth?”

  “He stole my wine.” Tanner’s hair stuck up in all directions, and his shirt was partially unbuttoned. “He stole it. I can’t believe how fast he moved!” He planted his hands on his hips. “Damn it. Talk about a rude interruption. I think the little bastard watched us and chose his moment.”

  Just then Rip lunged off the bed, cutting a generous berth around them as he ran back for the couch.

  “Rip!” Crystal shrieked.

  “Rip!” Tanner bellowed.

  But the dog kept going. With the agility common in cattle dogs, he leaped up onto the coffee table, pushed his mouth over the top of Crystal’s goblet, jumped to the floor, and ran with his head tilted back, gulping down the merlot as he darted this way and that to avoid their reaching hands. When the wine was gone, he dropped the glass, looked up at Crystal with that up-yours grin that she’d come to know so well, and belched. A huge, long, disrespectful expulsion that she felt certain had her name on it somewhere.

  “Why does he hate me so much?” She knew it was bad timing for the question. “I try so hard to make him like me. Nothing works. It’s like he has a vendetta against me.”

  Tanner sighed. He still looked disheveled, and Crystal could only wonder if she had messed up his hair and nearly stripped his shirt off him. She couldn’t remember doing that.

  “I think we have a greater worry,” he said, his voice deep and edged with masculine frustration.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m afraid Rip’s an alcoholic.”

  “Can dogs actually become alcoholics?”

  He shrugged. “If Tuck were here, he’d say, ‘They’re mammals, ain’t they?’”

  Sitting on the couch again, Crystal fixed her gaze on a stool under the lip of the breakfast bar. She didn’t know what Tanner was staring at. She knew only that Rip had destroyed their romantic moment with such force that her desire felt as if it had been obliterated by a bomb. She had a feeling Tanner had lost his enthusiasm as well. Rip had ruined their entire evening.

  “What do you do if a dog is an alcoholic?” she whispered.

  Tanner started buttoning his shirt. “Beats the hell out of me. I don’t think a twelve-step program will work. Counseling, maybe? Shit. I can’t believe I said that. Enforced abstinence is the only solution. If I’m right about alcohol addiction, maybe Jack can give him medication of some kind.”

  “I can’t believe he drank our wine.”

  “We have another bottle.”

  She sighed. “No, I’m fine. Let’s save it for next time.”

  He turned to look at her. “Will we have a next time, Crystal? I blew the first half of the evening by telling you my suspicions about Rip. Rip blew the last half. I’m not clear on why you’d even want to see me again after two miserable dates in a row.”

  “The first date was not miserable. I had a great time. And it’s not your fault that Tuck let Rip drink. That’s on Tuck.”

  “True, but I still feel lousy about it. We didn’t have much of a date.”

  “Please, don’t. Feel lousy, I mean.” She reached over to smooth his hair. It resisted her fingertips and poked back up. Maybe her hands had been damp when she ran them through it. He looked as if he’d stuck his finger in a light socket. Somehow, though, he was still too handsome for words. “That kiss was pretty darned great in my books. An almost thing, a promise of things to come.”

  He sighed. “Thanks for saying that. I agree that the almost part was pretty awesome. If it hadn’t been for the damned dog, it would have been fabulous.”

  Crystal glanced over her shoulder at Rip. He was passed out on his bed again, belly turned up to the ceiling. At least now she knew his stumbling and ensuing crashes weren’t due to exhaustion. The poor dog had been drunk. She felt angry with her grandfather all over again. “He’s oblivious. I’m sorry he interrupted us.”

  Crystal got up and went to her computer. “I’m looking up things to watch for in dogs that consume alcohol.”

  Tanner followed her across the room and leaned over her shoulder. When she’d found a list of symptoms, she and Tanner adjourned to where the dog bed lay. Crystal hunkered down. “Well, he doesn’t feel cold, so he doesn’t have hypothermia.”

  “No vomiting, either,” Tanner observed. “Or excessive drooling. I honestly think he’s just going to sleep it off and be fine.”

  “Me, too,” she said.

  He checked the time and stood. “It’s late. I should head home. My mom’s keeping the kids all night, but they’ll hit the deck early.”

  Crystal retrieved his jacket from where he’d hung it over a chair. She whisked her hand over the fabric, trying to get rid of the dog and cat hair that had stuck to it.

  “It’ll be fine.” He took the garment. “I’ll use a lint roller on it in the morning.”

  Crystal looked into his eyes. She thought she heard him swear under his breath. The next instant, he dropped the blazer, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her to the bedroom. She wondered how he knew which one was hers, but the thought skittered through her mind so fast it didn’t stick. As if in a dream, she felt herself land softly on the mattress. Then she heard the door close. In the moonlight seeping through the windows, she saw Tanner stripping off his shirt. Then he joined her on the bed, his body creating a canopy of masculine hardness and heat over hers.

  “Are you okay with this? Please say you’re okay with this.”

  Crystal had those bubbles bouncing at the base of her throat again, and she couldn’t speak. Instead she pulled his head down so she could kiss him. And just as had happened earlier, the moment their mouths made contact, she forgot everything but the man who held her in his arms.

  Moonlight and shadows, heavy breathing and light touches, skin going moist with the heat of desire. Crystal didn’t know where her clothing had gone, and she didn’t care. His hands, strong yet gentle, grazed over her body, teasing her nerve endings, making her shiver with delight, and pushing her closer to a moment of urgent need she wouldn’t be able to deny. His mouth followed the same path, exploring and seeming to savor the taste of her. In return, she ran the tip of her tongue along the column of his throat, across his chest, and over his muscled shoulder, tracing the shape that quivered with each lick.

  He drew away and then returned to her. Dimly, she registered that he had slipped on protection. He whispered her name as he pushed cautiously inside of her, and she felt the wa
lls of her femininity clench to embrace him. He groaned at the sensation. She murmured half-formed words as electrical bursts of delight streamed into her lower abdomen like the brilliant trails of fireworks going off in a dark sky.

  Afterward they lay exhausted with their heads on the same pillow, their limbs intertwined. She loved the way he held her, his embrace firm but not crushing, one hand splayed over her spine, the other over her hip. She felt cherished.

  “That was incredible.” His voice vibrated through her, deep and raspy. “I’ve never felt that way with anyone.”

  “Me, either. It was fabulous.”

  He made no offer to move. After her past encounters with men, which had been few, the partings had been matter-of-fact and sometimes hasty. Grabbing for clothing. Tidying up. Saying awkward farewells. With Tanner it still seemed special and beautiful.

  “You mind if I crash here tonight? I’d like to stay with you. Hold you for a while.”

  She smiled against the hollow of his shoulder. No one had ever asked to stay and hold her. “I’d like that,” she whispered. “But what about your kids?”

  “I’ll get up early. Mom will give them breakfast.”

  With a sigh of contentment, she settled against him, feeling boneless. He stroked her hair, caressed her thigh, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  “Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

  Crystal felt certain that nothing could be sweeter than the dream she’d just experienced.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tanner awakened sometime in the middle of the night and made love to Crystal again. She responded with eagerness and let him know what she liked with small sounds of pleasure. She communicated with him in an open, unabashed way no other woman ever had, and for him, that heightened the enjoyment. He could lose himself in the act of loving her and think of little else.

  The second time was as perfect for him as the first, and he knew she felt the same way, because afterward she said, “Dear heaven, I wish you didn’t have to leave. What a weekend we could have.”

  Unfortunately, he had no choice. He had kids at home, and as tempting as staying longer was, he couldn’t expect his mother to look after them all day. She’d be worn-out by evening and unable to enjoy her night out with friends.

  “You have to work,” he reminded her.

  “Oh, yeah, that. Sooner or later, I need to take a vacation. I used to go to Idaho and visit Tuck. Now I have no idea where to go.”

  “Tahiti? Fiji? Go in the winter to escape our bad weather.”

  “Can I pack you in my suitcase?”

  He laughed. “I’d be over the weight limit, and you’d have to pay extra.”

  “Yes, but you’d be worth it.”

  He set his cell phone alarm for six, drew Crystal back into his arms, and stroked her hair until both of them drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  Toward dawn Tanner jerked awake to find Crystal gone. He climbed out of bed, pulled on his slacks, and searched for his shirt. Finally, he decided to look for her without it. He found her sitting on the floor beside Rip’s bed. The dog still slept, his belly up, legs sprawled outward. In the faint light coming from the brightening horizon outside the front windows, he could see an introspective expression on her face. The mystery of his missing shirt was solved. She had slipped it on, and he doubted she wore anything else.

  In that moment she looked so young to him. She jumped with a start when he crouched, twisted at the waist, and sat beside her with his back to the wall.

  “I didn’t hear you coming,” she said.

  “No shoes.” He drew up his knees to create a perch for his arms. “Why are you out here? I hope it’s nothing I said or did.”

  “No. Everything was wonderful. I’m just—oh, I don’t know—doing a little soul-searching.”

  “Why? What about?”

  “Rip. How I’ve bungled it while caring for him. I can’t get it right even when I don’t let myself love something.”

  Tanner’s stomach tightened. He had a feeling that Crystal had waded into dark emotional water, and he wasn’t sure how to draw her back to the shallows. “Well, from where I’m standing you’ve done a great job caring for him.”

  “He’s been running away to drink beer at a tavern and coming home drunk. He could have cirrhosis of the liver, which could kill him.”

  “That wouldn’t be your fault.” No Name climbed onto his lap. He swept his hand down the kitten’s spine. “You’ve had Rip for only a couple of months, and Tuck had him for more than seven years.”

  “Yes, but at least Tuck limited how much beer he got. I didn’t even know Rip was drinking any. Thinking back, I wonder why, when I first noticed him staggering, I didn’t realize he was drunk. It scares me now to think Rip could have gotten really sick any one of those nights and died while I was asleep.”

  “But he didn’t,” Tanner pointed out. “And now you’re taking control of the situation. You shouldn’t blame yourself for not addressing a problem you didn’t know existed.”

  She leaned her head back against the wall with an audible thump. “You’re right. I’ll remind myself of that if we learn he’s got health issues.”

  “Crystal, remind yourself even if he doesn’t. I get the feeling you may blame yourself for things that aren’t even really your fault.”

  * * *

  After Tanner left, Crystal moved the kitten’s dishes and litter box into the full bathroom that adjoined her bedroom and got ready for work. Then she found Rip’s leash, a blue-and-white nylon rope with a handgrip loop at one end and a metal clasp at the other. Since Rip had lost his regular collar, she thrust the clip through the loop, creating a circle, and tightened the slack around the blue heeler’s neck. Armed with biscuits, she took the dog for a walk around the property. When he had relieved himself, she paid him his toll to reenter the house and then put him in the laundry room with his bed, food, and a large bowl of water.

  Rip started to bark when she closed the interior door. Crystal steeled herself against the frantic note she heard in the sounds. She couldn’t miss any more appointments today than she’d already handed off to other technicians. She’d spent nearly four hundred dollars on purchasing dog collars last night, and no money tree grew in the backyard.

  “Rip!” She spoke to the animal through the wood panel. “Listen to me. Okay? I’ll come back in only a while to take you to the vet, and when we’re done there, we’ll go for a nice, long walk. Don’t feel scared. Just take another nap, and I’ll be here before you know it.”

  The dog began scratching at the door. Crystal almost relented. It was hard to go when she knew he might feel frightened. Taking her emotions in hand, she gave No Name a farewell scratch on his head, grabbed her purse, and practically ran from the house.

  When Crystal reached the salon, it was nearly seven, her first client was waiting, and she had no time to even walk across the street for a breakfast burrito from the Jake ’n’ Bake. She finished three styling jobs in quick succession, glanced at her appointment book, and saw that her next customer was Blackie, who owned the pawnshop. She knew him well from when she’d dined often at the Cauldron. He was a nice older guy whom she guessed to be in his mid-fifties, with black hair, deep blue eyes, and a stocky build he kept trim with regular exercise.

  Just as she envisioned him, the bell above the door jangled and he entered the shop. He flashed her an easy grin that made her wonder why he couldn’t find some nice woman his age who would appreciate him.

  “Hi, stranger,” she said as she unfolded a cape and fastened it around his neck.

  “Not my fault we’re strangers! I still eat regularly at the Cauldron, but I never see you there now.”

  “Busy.” She gave him a brief rundown on Rip and his penchant for running away. “During my breaks, I’m busy hunting for that silly dog.”

  “Well, I hope the new co
llar does the trick. With him getting out all the time, it’s a headache for you and dangerous for him.”

  The man had no idea just how dangerous it was for Rip. Blackie’s hair rarely took much time, and she finished the job quickly. As she ran his credit card, she asked Shannon and Nadine if they were sure they could cover her clients while she took Rip to see the vet. They both assured her that they foresaw no difficulties.

  The drive back to the farmhouse gave Crystal a short break, allowing her to relax and take a few deep breaths. She dreaded the vet appointment, mostly because of the stories Tuck had told her about Rip’s behavior in clinics. In order to prevent any problems, she’d cautioned the vet and technicians to keep stethoscopes out of sight, and not to wear scrubs, which the dog recognized as uniforms.

  She froze when she entered the laundry room to let the dog out. An exterior door that opened onto the backyard bore deep claw marks, the interior door was just as damaged, and Rip had attacked a wicker clothes hamper, dragging all the soiled garments out to tear them with his teeth. The dark brown slacks she’d worn to the salon yesterday had gaping holes in them.

  “Oh, Rip.”

  The heeler lay down and put his paws over his eyes. He was clearly trying to tell her he was sorry, and she didn’t have the heart to scold him.

  “What’s done is done,” she settled for saying. “Tanner said he’d help with repairs, and I’m sure Tuck won’t mind paying to replace both doors.”

  She collected Rip’s leash, got it tightened around his neck, took him for a walk around the yard, and then led him to her car, feeding him biscuits along the way so he wouldn’t pinch her. Once he had received his treat inside the vehicle, he lolled his tongue and sat straight on the passenger seat to see where they were going.