by Dora Hiers
“I promised her that I’d be back out tomorrow.”
Dark eyebrows hiked high above her bangs. The “I’m a new Mama” mug, his first gift after learning of her pregnancy, clanged down on the wood tabletop. “I’m not sure which question begs to be asked first.”
“Save it.” As if.
With a smile curving her lips, she wagged her head back and forth. “Oh no.”
He figured as much. But he could wait her out.
“So…”
Maybe not. He really had to get to the shop and catch up on some things if he hoped to spend the next few days at the sanctuary. With Remi.
“Why do you have to go back? It should have been a quick couple hour visit, max, just to check things out.”
“A birth of a baby of any species usually takes more than two hours.” He wouldn’t have missed that for anything.
A confused look passed across his sister’s face.
“I arrived in time to witness a llama birthing. Got roped into helping Remi deliver the baby.” He shook his head. “Actually, they call llama babies ‘crias.’”
Angela’s jaw dropped. She clapped her hands together. “Get out! How cool was that?”
“That part was pretty special.” He chuckled. “But then I had to clean up after being spit on by a prankster.”
“You’re talking a different language. Help me out here.”
“Did you know that llamas spit?”
Her belly jiggled with laughter. “That had to be a sight.”
“More like a smell.”
“It stinks?”
He closed his eyes, shuddering with the memory. His eyelids flickered open again to see her staring, waiting for his response. “Worse than you could ever imagine.”
“So that still doesn’t explain why you have to go back.” Furrows etched Angela’s brow. She scratched the back of her head.
Yeah. He knew she wouldn’t give up.
“She didn’t know who I was.” Wonder seeped through to his voice again.
She gasped. “For real?”
He nodded.
“Not just faking it?”
“Not a clue.” How did she find out? The reporter?
He sipped his coffee. It didn’t matter how Remi found out his identity. What was important was repairing the damage and showing her that he was a man she could trust.
“So let me guess. You want me to handle the funeral arrangements?”
He knew he could count on his sister. Just like Remi could count on him to be there at the sanctuary tomorrow.
He rinsed out his cup and walked over to the back door to slide his feet into his boots. Clomping over to where she sat, he curled his hands around her shoulders. “Yes, please, and keep me in the loop.”
She covered his hands with her own and angled her face to accept his peck on her cheek. “You’ve got it. Any budgetary restrictions?”
He shook his head. “He gave his best for me. Let’s do the same for him.”
****
Remi shoveled the scrambled eggs onto two plates next to the blackberry-jelly slathered toast.
“That’s plenty for me, Remi. They smell divine.” Jillian Sutthill, her best friend since kindergarten, stood with her rump against the counter, her palms resting against the surface. She lifted her nose and took a deep breath. Wisps of blonde hair brushed across her ivory cheeks.
“You sure? There’s plenty more.” Remi held the skillet poised above the plates.
“Save it for your breakfast tomorrow.” Jillian turned and lifted the decanter, poured coffee into two mugs.
Remi slid the skillet back onto the stove and carried the warm plates to the table. Jillian met her with the coffee.
Her friend offered a quick blessing over the food, and they dug in.
“Sorry I’ve been so out of touch lately. Things were rather hectic gearing up for the fire department’s open house. Now that it’s over, I feel like I have so much time on my hands.” Jillian scooped some eggs onto her fork.
“How did it go?” She wished she could have been there, but Jillian understood her reluctance to mingle with hundreds of people.
Having survived a natural gas explosion and burns claiming thirty percent of her body, Jillian was used to stares, so she didn’t much like being in the public eye, either, but she tolerated it better than Remi.
“It went well. We probably had over five hundred people this year. More kids come out every year, and that’s always a good thing.”
“That’s wonderful.” Remi took a bite of toast, but she really didn’t have an appetite. She’d cooked mostly for her friend.
“So catch me up with what’s been happening here.”
“Snickers had her cria.” Remi sipped her coffee.
“She did?” Jillian’s face lit up. “What did she have?”
“A girl. We named her Reesie.”
“We?” Jillian gaped. Her fork clanged against the plate.
Remi’s slip of the tongue would cost her in the form of information. Information she wasn’t sure she was ready to share yet. If ever. Why bother? She didn’t expect Mason to show up at the sanctuary again.
“I had a helper with the delivery.”
“Really? Corbin made it all the way out here in time?”
Remi scoffed and shook her head, idly pushing her fork through the food on her plate. “Ha! No. Not Corbin.”
“Your mom? Camdon?” Shadows darkened Jillian’s expression before she dipped her head, her blonde bangs draping her eyes.
Remi covered her friend’s hand with her own. “Hey, it’s okay. Carson will be back.”
Remi knew Jillian missed Camdon’s identical twin. Not only had they all grown up hanging out with each other, but Carson and Jillian had dated during high school. Then, right after graduation, with Jillian’s heart set on the altar, Carson had deserted her. Walked away from all of them without a backward glance.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But it doesn’t matter anymore.”
Yes, it did, and Remi knew her friend still ached for her brother to return. Wait until she got her hands on Carson. She didn’t know whether she’d hug him because she missed him so much or shake him for making her best friend so sad.
“Mason Mulrennan was here.”
Jillian twitched then squinted, her eyes flashing from brown to gold in seconds. “Mason Mulrennan? The racecar driver Mason Mulrennan?”
“How does everybody know who the guy is but me?”
“Because you don’t watch sports.”
“Is racecar driving actually considered a sport?” Remi mulled that around in her head.
“What do you mean he was here?”
“Here. At the sanctuary.”
Jillian cocked her head. “Doing what exactly?”
That was a good question. Why had the man shown up when he did? She gave her head a slight shake. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t hear from him again. “He helped deliver Reesie.”
Jillian leaned back against the chair, her head wagging from side to side as if in slow motion, the eggs on her plate forgotten. “Mason Mulrennan. Here at the sanctuary. Delivering your little cria. Unbelievable.”
Yeah. She still had a hard time wrapping her brain around it. She took a bite of toast, the blackberry goodness suddenly bitter on her tongue.
A heavy duty motor revved into the driveway then cut off. Who could that be? She wasn’t expecting anyone besides Jillian this morning.
Unless—
Surely it wasn’t—
No!
She stood up so fast the chair fell backward. She tugged it upright, but the toast caught midway down her throat. She coughed, her eyes tearing.
Jillian thumped her on the back. “You okay?”
“Uh, yes, thanks.” Remi finally caught her breath, her palm covering her chest to slow the beating of her heart.
She marched to the window and lifted the fabric, fear and hope duking it out in the vicinity of her chest.
“He’s here.”
The words came out on a whisper. He’d said he would come, and he did.
“Who’s here?”
“Mason Mulrennan.”
“Really?” Wooden chair legs scraped back from the table and leather boot soles slapped the floor behind her. Jillian’s breath blew against the back of Remi’s neck as her friend peered out the window behind her. “Is he as hunky looking as he is on the television? All brown eyes and heart-stopping gorgeous?”
Remi twisted and glared at her friend.
Jillian’s eyebrows arched. “What? I’m just asking. It’s not every day you get to see a celebrity.”
Remi heaved a sigh and allowed the fabric to fall back in place. “Yeah. Well, I’d rather not see a celebrity, today or any other day. I told him not to come back.”
“You did what?” Jillian almost squealed.
Remi turned around and faced her friend. “You heard me.”
Jillian stared at her for a moment then nodded, slow and thoughtful. “Okay. I get why you wouldn’t want to see him.”
“Good. I knew you’d see it my way.”
“But if you told him not to come back, why is he here?”
Why indeed. She intended to find out. Now if she could only get her heart to slow down and cooperate. Must be from the adrenaline, the anger that the obstinate man disregarded her wishes so blatantly.
She tugged her denim jacket off the hook by the door and shoved her arms through the sleeves then reached for the doorknob. “I’ll have to catch you up on things later, Jillian. Right now I’m going to find out what he’s doing here.”
“Do you need backup?” A glint of some kind flickered across Jillian’s face.
Remi wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. She frowned and shook her head. “Nah. I’m good.”
“Well, then, I’ll leave you to it. Call me if you need help putting out any fires.” A teasing smile lifted the corners of Jillian’s mouth.
What did she mean by that? Remi didn’t wait to find out. She flung the door open and stomped to the barn, her racing heart and weak legs betraying the signals her brain pulsed.
Jillian followed. She untied and mounted her horse. With a quick flick of her blonde head and another impish smile, she urged Lightning toward her house, just down the road a bit.
Cardinals flitted from tree to tree, and robins pranced around in the still lush blanket of grass. The dazzling autumn sunlight mocked her as she tromped to the barn. Why wasn’t the day gloomy and gray to match the turmoil roiling around in her tummy?
Heavy boots thumped across the dirt inside the barn. A horse’s lead clicked to the post hook. The low, deep voice, fraught with anguish and pain, echoed from inside the cavernous space, slowing her steps. “Okay, Angela. That’ll work. I’ll swing by the funeral home this evening on my way back home to sign the paperwork.”
Silence.
Who was Angela? A girlfriend?
Remi pinched her eyebrows. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that someone he knew had died.
This conversation wasn’t meant for her, and she didn’t intend to listen. She took a step away.
“Whatever it costs is fine. Harley deserves it.” He sniffled then cleared his throat. His voice sounded rough, as if he hadn’t gotten sleep in days.
Remi hesitated, recognizing pain and loss. Maybe she should offer him a steaming cup of hot chocolate. A sympathetic ear. She would have liked those things herself when her father died.
Instead, she’d gotten the cold shoulder, whispers and stares.
Remi retraced her steps to the kitchen and prepped some to-go cups of hot chocolate. She doubted Mason would appreciate a shoulder to cry on, but she could at least listen. Figuring out why he was here could wait. A few minutes, anyway.
She grabbed a couple napkins and headed back to the barn, balancing the cups. When she reached the open door, she coughed to let the poor guy know she was around before she invaded his personal zone.
She stepped into the barn, the musty hay and animal smells wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She breathed deep of the reminders that her animals loved and accepted her unconditionally, no strings attached.
She put the mugs down, cuddled Pocono’s neck and planted a kiss on his forehead. Ah, so the big guy was hiding in Pocono’s stall.
Goliath padded out to greet her, his tail wagging in such big circles that his rump actually moved with it.
“Hey, there, sweet boy.” She squatted and buried her face in his fur. “I’m so glad you came to see me today.”
Moaning, he plopped down on the ground and rolled over. She complied with the requested belly rub. “I’m going to visit with your daddy. You might want to stay out here. It’s not going to be a pretty sight.”
Goliath stretched out and plopped his head on the straw as if he understood. She rose and scooped up the mugs. Straw crunched under her boots as she made her way to Pocono’s stall.
She was wrong.
It was a pretty sight.
Correction. He was. Not pretty. But take-her-breath-away good looking.
Strong arms hoisted the pitchfork midair, poised to heave soiled straw into the wheelbarrow. Why was he here mucking out her stalls again?
Who was this man?
He looked up, and she caught a glimpse of pain flash across his face. Sorrow glazed his eyes before he blinked it away.
“Good morning, sunshine.” He dumped the load and continued digging.
All brown eyes and heart-stopping gorgeous. Jillian was right.
Remi almost dropped the cups. She fumbled with her grip then held out a trembling hand, offering him one. “Hot chocolate.”
He stretched, those incredibly muscular legs looking too powerful, too good, in his well-worn jeans. He’d shed his jacket, and the long-sleeved shirt strained against his bulky chest.
She averted her head, just enough so she wouldn’t wish for something that she couldn’t have.
Like love. A man to share her dreams, to comfort her over her failures, to celebrate her successes. A marriage like her mom’s, melded around faith and shared values. Family.
All off limits.
Especially the faith. That spark had flickered out a long time ago.
And a racecar driver?
Definitely a red light.
“Thanks.” His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and comforting.
How was that? She’d meant to comfort him. She cleared her throat and pulled her hand back when she was sure his fingers gripped the cup.
He sipped then licked whipped cream from his upper lip. When her heart raced in response, she stared down at the tip of her boots.
“This is wonderful. Thank you, Remi.”
“You’re welcome.” So why are you here?
“I told you I would be here today.”
Her head jerked back up. The man was dangerous if he could peek into her thoughts like that. What else could he see? “And I told you not to come.”
“That you did, but you also stated very emphatically that you didn’t want anybody here that you couldn’t trust. I want you to know that you can trust me, Remi. I’m a man of my word.”
“Appears that way.” For now.
“It’s not just an act. It’s who I am.” He took another sip of the hot chocolate then set it on the ledge of the stall’s open half door, spearing her with a soulful glance before he picked up the pronged fork again.
Mercy! Did she have to wipe her brain clean so that he couldn’t see straight through to what she was thinking?
“I might have overheard a conversation that I wasn’t meant—”
“One of my good friends died yesterday.” The pitchfork stilled with its prongs hidden in the straw. His gaze focused at the ground.
“Oh, Mason, I’m so sorry.”
His chest lifted then fell. Jillian could have heard his sigh all the way inside her house.
“Is there anything I can do?”
Slowly, his gaze made its way from the ground to her face. Longing, pain, h
eartache. She saw it all. Not just the lines on his face, but in the slight sag of his powerful shoulders and the way he hung his head.
“Yeah. There is. You can come with me to the funeral.”
She jerked back as if he’d slapped her. “Come with you to the funeral?”
“Yeah. I’d like you to be there.”
“Why?”
“He was someone special to me.”
Did that mean she was someone special because he’d asked her to go with him? She gulped. Again, in her head, that flashing red light strobed.
“We’ve—” he coughed and cleared his throat, started again. “Harley was my first pit crew chief. He worked with me until he retired a few years back.”
“You’ve known each other a long time then.”
He nodded. “I was seventeen, when the racing bug bit me.”
Goliath padded into the stall and plunked down next to Mason with a huff. The mighty man knelt, one knee braced against the straw, and stroked the dog’s neck. Goliath moaned and stretched, closing his eyes in ecstasy.
“I found him yesterday. All alone.” Mason stood. His fingers tracked through his own hair, leaving a cowlick sticking up in front.
Her hand ached with the desire to smooth it out for him. She was in dangerous territory now. “I’m sorry, but—”
Mason’s dark head dipped for a few seconds. Except for Goliath’s soft snuffle, the space was charged with an agonizing silence.
How could the dog sleep while his master suffered? But then, she knew all about death. It was a mystery of life. How loved ones could die, yet people went about their daily business. Working. Playing. Laughing.
“I understand if you’d rather not. I was just hoping…” His husky voice trailed off. When he raised his head, their gazes collided. His unshaven jaw clenched before he dragged his attention back to the floor and sighed.
Her heart pinched. That was so sweet of him, but she hadn’t been to a funeral since her dad’s service, and she surely hadn’t wanted to go back then. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Brown eyes as warm as the hot chocolate she just drank bore into hers. She shifted, uncomfortable with how they made her feel. Whole. Desirable. Accepted.
“I think it’s the best idea I’ve had in years.” And with that, his strong arms got back to work.
