by Dora Hiers
“Male or female?” Corbin’s sandy eyebrows knitted together.
“Male.” Definitely. All. Male.
Remi’s pulse kicked up a notch. She cleared her throat and lowered her boot to the ground. Tucked her hands in the pockets of her jeans.
“What did you say his name was?”
“His name?” This line of questioning was growing stranger by the minute. Didn’t Corbin know the names of the vets he partnered with to handle emergency calls? How many vets were there in the small town of Harrison? Oh, maybe he utilized a veterinary service in Charlotte. Then, naturally, he wouldn’t know who’d been sent to the sanctuary.
“Yeah. His name.”
“Mason.”
He scratched his head and frowned. “Is that a first or last name?”
Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. Mason had completed the volunteer forms, but she’d tucked them away in the file without sparing the time to review them yet. She had no idea if Mason was his first or last name. He would have mentioned if she were calling him by his last name, right?
“I think it’s his first name, but I don’t know for sure.” She shook her head. “I can find out when I get back to the sanctuary.” Suspicion moved in, replacing the embarrassment. She frowned. “Why the twenty questions?”
Red crept up Corbin’s neck and covered his face in splotches. “Uh...”
“Ms. Lambright!”
At the sound of the all-too-familiar female voice, Remi jerked her head to the right. A woman dressed in stylish slacks with a silk shirt— a silk shirt in mid-October? What was she thinking? —and decked out in four-inch heels tottered toward them.
Remi dipped her head and moaned. Could the day get any worse? Why hadn’t she hopped in the truck and taken off before Corbin got a hold of her?
She had parked in the back of the shopping center. How did the reporter find her? And why keep tracking Remi down after she’d refused the interview?
Remi gritted her teeth. How could she be more firm without being rude?
“I’ll catch up with you later, Remi.” Corbin turned, appearing anxious to leave. Apparently, the reporter had that effect on him, too.
“Sure. I’ll call when I find out Mason’s full name.”
With a quick nod, he hustled back into his office. If only she could scurry away like that, like a rat into its hole.
Remi turned back around and watched the reporter approach. The private parking lot had erupted into grand central station this morning. Who would’ve guessed? She definitely needed to consider changing her schedule.
Her boot tapped a frantic rhythm, her hands clenched against her sides.
She was a mess. She took a few deep breaths and consciously locked her boot to the ground. Humming a little tune that she used with the llamas, she dug out a couple pieces of candy and popped them both in her mouth. Chocolate. Peanut butter. Mmmm. She closed her eyes, letting the flavors merge on her tongue.
There. That was better.
When crazy-high-heels-and-silk-lover was within hearing distance, Remi stopped humming.
“Good morning, Tami.” The reporter beamed with triumph. What was up with that?
“Remi.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s Remi. Remi Lambright.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. How could I forget?” No apology for the error. What did Remi expect from the reporter?
“Ms. Greenway.” Dread pitted in Remi’s stomach. “What can I do for you?”
“What a pleasant surprise to find Mason Mulrennan at your facility yesterday.”
Mason Mulrennan. So that was his full name. Why did it sound familiar? She couldn’t place it.
Unwilling to swipe her sweaty palms against her jeans and clue the woman in on her nervousness, Remi tucked them in her pockets and fingered another piece of candy, waiting for the woman to get to the point.
Nan hiked thin eyebrows and angled her neck, looking at her expectantly.
What did the reporter want from her? “Mason’s been a tremendous help.”
“Help?” Nan’s voice erupted in a near screech, even shriller than the llamas’ alarm system. What was wrong with the lady?
“He volunteers at the sanctuary,” Remi offered.
“Volunteers?” Nan’s jaw dropped, and Remi could have sworn the woman swayed slightly. Must be from parking those four-inch heels in gravel. If she planned to stick around town, she really needed to invest in some quality leather boots. “Ah. He volunteers at the sanctuary. I see now. That makes sense.” Nan’s head bobbed, a slow up and down motion that made Remi uncomfortable. “Something to do with the Mason Mulrennan Foundation, I’m sure.”
The Mason Mulrennan Foundation. Now that name really rang some bells.
“Still, how does a phenomenally successful racecar driver afford time away from his shop to volunteer at a little country animal shelter? Why doesn’t the man just write a check and be done with it?”
What? Mason was a racecar driver? Not a vet?
Remi reared back as if the woman had struck her in the face. Her left eyelid twitched, and her lips trembled. Her lungs lost all capability for normal function. She sniffled and jerked her hand out of her pocket. She watched the last piece of candy drop to the ground. Fitting, wasn’t it?
She swiped a sleeve across her face, trying to regain her composure, but failed miserably.
Seriously?
Mason. A racecar driver?
According to the reporter, and Nan should know, Mason wasn’t just any racecar driver. The man was phenomenally successful. So why was he volunteering at her ranch?
“I don’t…” She needed time to process this information. She had to get away from the reporter, away from people, away from the hurt and humiliation that never loosened its grip on her or her family.
“Excuse me, but I need to get back to the sanctuary.” Remi took a step toward the truck on unstable legs, as weak as overcooked spaghetti. She reached for the door handle to steady them then heaved herself into the truck. Without offering Nan another opportunity to plead for a personal interview, Remi cranked the engine, nodded at the reporter, and stomped on the accelerator.
The fresh breeze floating through the open windows couldn’t cool her hot face or tame the tears that tracked down her cheeks. The unsullied air didn’t ease the pain or erase the condemnation, the years of pointed fingers and whispered conversations behind her back.
She’d thought that by choosing a career path working with animals she could escape the vicious gossip and censure, the disapproval. But no. Twenty years later, and here she was, staring at the same mess, just a different person leading the pack.
Remi swiped a sleeve across her face and made the right turn leading toward home, her focus blurred.
“Why, God? My dad’s been dead for two decades. Why can’t these reporters just leave us alone? Why must they constantly hound my family?”
Her conscious pricked. Nan hadn’t even brought up her father today.
“And what about Mason? Why did he even show up at the sanctuary in the first place? What does he really want?” She didn’t care that she spoke the words aloud. Nobody would hear her on the long, lonely stretch of road. Especially not God.
“The first man I meet that I might be remotely interested in, ever, and he drives racecars for a living! How rich is that!” Sniffing, she plucked a tissue from the box in the center console and wiped her nose, keeping her eyes on the road.
She swiped at her eyes again, stiffening her shoulders and steeling her resolve. Mason Mulrennan had some explaining to do.
She didn’t care what he did for a living—
Okay. Maybe she did. But as a volunteer working with her animals, she needed to know his motive for being there.
There. That felt better. She lifted her chin.
She’d confront him and listen to his reasoning. Then order him to leave.
An image of the man leaning against the fence, his head angled over a shoulder, sporting that
tender expression on his face, stole her breath.
Why, God? Why couldn’t he be the man I thought he was?
And why am I talking to a God who could care less about me?
****
Mason hummed, sliding the stiff bristles of the brush along Pocono’s back, the strong scents of leather, hay, and horse becoming familiar and almost as comfortable as the hand cleaner, steel, and rubber smells from the shop.
“There you go, Pocono.” He unhooked the halter and led the beautiful specimen back into the stall. He secured the door with the latch and rubbed the horse’s soft muzzle. “See you next week, buddy.”
Where was Remi? He glanced at his phone. With a plane to catch in a few hours, he really needed to clean up and head out, but he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye and to let her know that he’d be back on Tuesday.
The conversation could wait until next week, couldn’t it?
He put the brush back on the shelf and sighed. Tuesday seemed so far away.
He would miss her. Over the last week, he’d grown accustomed to her shy looks in the mornings, which had eventually warmed to sharing lunches and coffee breaks. His lips curved thinking about the occasional glimpse of cute dimples that flashed around full lips and gleaming white teeth. The laugh lines that fanned out from her eyes every time he dumped a shirt in the soiled stack.
A truck roared into the driveway, grinding to a rather abrupt stop directly outside the barn. A door opened then slammed. Boots mashed the gravel, determination in the rapid steps.
What had her all riled?
He grabbed a towel and wiped his hands.
A shadow blocked the waning sunlight from the open barn door.
Remi.
Her hands fisted against her hips. Leather boots planted firmly on the dirt. Remi’s shoulders pressed back, all stiff and starch. She looked ready to pummel him. Her cowgirl hat hid most of her face, but he knew her jade eyes flashed anger, and her lips were compressed into a thin line. Angry or not, she was beautiful.
And, apparently, now she knew about him.
He ran a hand through his hair, frustration at the timing pumping through his veins, and inhaled a ragged breath. So much for waiting until next week to confess.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her lips quivered.
Because he hadn’t wanted her to judge him by how fat his wallet was, but he couldn’t say that to her.
His shoulders sagged, and a disappointed sigh escaped.
Her arms dropped to her sides, but her hands still curled into tight fists. She stalked inside the barn, her steps measured and determined, her back proud and stiff, her nostrils flaring. “You’re not a vet. You are not qualified to treat animals. Didn’t you see how that might present a problem?”
“The thought did occur to me.” Fleeting, but it had passed through his rather weak excuse for a brain once or twice.
Her eyebrows arched menacingly, and she stepped closer until her cowgirl hat almost touched him. She glanced up.
Yep. He was right. Those amber specks glittered with fury, and the cute dimples had left home.
Looked like he was in some serious trouble.
“The thought occurred to you?” Her incredulous tone indicated that she had a hard time believing him.
What had he been thinking?
Obviously, he’d been overwhelmed and dumbfounded because she didn’t recognize him. Was that an excuse? He gave a slight shake of his head. Not one she’d accept.
She’d dazzled him with her beauty in a natural, shy, didn’t-even-know it kind of way. So different from his ex-wife, Lisa, who flaunted her beauty in front of the camera every chance she was offered. Remi’s beauty was refreshing and pure, pristine as a mountain spring, bubbling and inviting. He surely didn’t want to admit that right now, either.
He cleared his throat and brandished an arm, encompassing the stalls and the pasture outside. “If any one of these animals had suffered—”
“If they had suffered, it would have been your fault.” She jabbed a slender finger against his torso, her chest heaving.
“I would have admitted—”
“By then it might have been too late.”
“—who I was.” And that he wanted the opportunity to explore something between them before his added baggage of celebrity status got in the way.
“Who are you?” She took a step back and crossed her arms.
He’d rather she still poked him with her finger. She was closer that way.
“Mason Mulrennan.” What was so wrong with that?
“What do you do for a living, Mason Mulrennan?” Dark eyebrows framed wide, expressive eyes, the rich, vibrant color of a grassy forest floor after a much-needed soaking rain.
She knew. He sighed, hating that he’d deceived her, but relieved that it was now out in the open.
“I’m a racecar driver.” There. Now his identity, and his wallet, separated them. A huge, gaping chasm.
His gaze never left her face, never veered to the left or right, waiting and searching for her soul-deep response.
“A far cry from a vet, don’t you think?” Her eyes grew fat with tears that never spilled over. She was a trooper, but the guardedness on her face was evidence that she knew disappointment on a first-name basis.
Disappointment. Wariness. Not the usual reactions he experienced from fans when they found out who he was. She didn’t run for the camera or squeal with surprise. She didn’t even ask for an autograph.
And she definitely hadn’t shown signs that she’d recognized him before now.
He lowered his head and scrubbed the whiskers covering his cheeks, hiding his surprise at her reaction. He couldn’t squelch the seed of promise, the burst of anticipation, which budded and bloomed in his gut.
He lifted his head, allowed the honesty to pour from his heart as he traced soft and gentle circles along her upper arm. “I would never have let your animals suffer, Remi. Trust me on that.”
“Trust you? Why should I trust you?” She looked pointedly at his hand but didn’t jerk away from his touch. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
“I love animals. I’m sure you could see that this week. And why would I bother showing up if I didn’t?” He dropped his hand, and although the warmth of her skin faded quickly, the tingle from touching her resonated all the way to his new boots.
She inhaled. When she spoke again, her voice lost its fire. “Well, there is that.”
He nodded and took a deep reassuring breath.
“Don’t bother coming back.”
He jerked back as if she’d slapped him. “What? Why not?”
“Because I will not have someone here at this sanctuary that I can’t trust.”
His phone shrieked with an alarm. The absolute latest for him to still make the flight on time. He wasn’t ready, and he didn’t want to leave her for four torturous days with this hanging over them. Dread pitted in his gut. Talk about terrible timing.
He cupped her chin and tilted her face up. She tried to turn her head away, but he held her chin in a firm yet gentle grasp, trying hard to resist the pleasure at the touch of her smooth skin against his rough hand. “Remi, please. Look at me.”
He waited until her dark eyebrows lifted, revealing forest green orbs, full in equal measure of sass and charm. “I promise you that you can trust me. I’ll be back on Tuesday morning.”
“Don’t bother.” Her hands remained clenched at her sides, the tears glistening, but still refusing to fall. Tough as steel on the outside. But that gruff exterior shielded a fragile heart.
“I won’t let you down, Remi. I’ll be here.” And he would. Not a single volunteer had shown up this week besides him.
He would be the man that she needed. She could count on him.
****
Remi poured coffee into two cups and carried them to the back deck. She handed Camdon one.
“Thank you.” He took a short sip. “Mmm. Just what I needed.”
“You’re just wha
t I needed. Thanks for coming over tonight.” She settled on one end of the wicker couch, curling her legs underneath her body, disappointment slinking into her chest and making its home there. “I just don’t know what to think about him.”
The sun made its final dip past the horizon and darkness blanketed the sky. With the light glowing from the fire pit, she could barely make out Camdon’s dark eyebrows, furrowed in concern. Just like her big brother.
“I don’t blame you, Remi. I don’t know what to think, either.”
“Why would he work here all week and make me believe that he was a vet when he’s actually a racecar driver?”
“It doesn’t make sense. Would you like me to make some phone calls and see what I can find out?” A crease lined his forehead. His almost-black hair stood up from raking his hand through it.
Camdon, such a sweet older brother. He’d always looked out for their family, forever worrying over them, especially his twin, Carson. Carson had left town years ago, his way of escaping the pain of their father’s suicide, and Remi knew Camdon fretted the most about him since their mother, Lessa, had remarried.
Remi shook her head. “Nah. Mason Mulrennan won’t be back.”
“He said he would, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but—”
“I wouldn’t discount his word.” Camdon’s quiet tone, meant to comfort her, didn’t work.
Her stomach twisted. How many knots could she have inside her belly? Remi stared at him, her jaw gaping. “Why not?”
Camdon and her stepfather, Ryan, were the only two males in the world she could depend on. Why should she believe Mason? He’d deceived her, put her animals at risk, and made her look the fool in front of the reporter. Not that Remi cared about the reporter, but she did care about her animals. Mason Mulrennan’s word meant nothing.
“Well, for one, he’s a public figure.” Camdon held up an index finger.
“Exactly. That’s another reason not to believe him.”
Camdon cocked his head and shot her a disapproving glare.
“It’s the truth,” she mumbled, still not willing to concede.
“In Remi’s world.” Camdon’s voice was soft, not condemning. Gentleness abounded in his words and expression.
True. But that’s the world she was forced to live in.
