Winter at Mustang Ridge (25 page)

It was a look she had seen on more faces than she wanted to count while filming
Jungle Love
. It was the one she and Jill called “cow eyes” when they were feeling snippy, or “stupid in love” when they weren’t. But she wasn’t stupid in love with Nick. She wasn’t.

Except that when she paged back through the shots, she saw the look over and over again. And when the screen went night-dark and she saw Nick standing in the moonlight, haloed in fur as he listened to the wolves howl, her belly knotted and her breath thinned out, and she was suddenly dying to text him, call him, drop in on him, be with him as much as she possibly could for the next few days. Plus a little voice inside her whispered that this didn’t have to be the end of it—she could skip the Mayan trip and spend ten more days in Three Ridges.

She dropped her head in her hands. “Oh, damn.” Now what?

N
ick wasn’t sure what to make of Jenny’s request that he meet her out at the point, but he brought hot chocolate and brownies with him and made the drive, hoping for an adventure but fearing a Serious Discussion. Like the one that began with “I’m leaving soon” and ended with “better to just break it off now.” He knew it was coming, but had been hoping they could stick to the fun script as long as possible. Like his old man always said, denial was more than a river in Egypt.

Her Jeep was already parked in the turnaround when he reached the point, so he killed his engine and hopped down from the Vetmobile, calling, “Jenny?”

“Down here” came the answer from below.

Tucking the brownies in one pocket and the thermos in another, he followed the narrow path down and around, finding it icier than before, treacherous in places. The little hollowed-out spot was clear, though, and warmed by the fire she had built in the stone-lined pit, suggesting that she had been there for a while.

She was wearing her heavy parka, but her gloves were off and the hood was thrown back, and when she looked up and smiled at him in greeting, her cheeks were flushed and warm. “Hey, there.”

“Hey, yourself.” He leaned in for a kiss that she eagerly returned, but still, he thought she seemed subdued.

“Sit.” She patted the spot beside her. “I’ve got hot chocolate and brownies.”

“Me, too.” Chuckling, he pulled out his offerings. “Want to trade?” They made a solemn exchange and dug into their treats. As he sipped the still-scalding brew, he said, “Chocolate on chocolate. Are we celebrating something?”

“Yes. Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“Which is it?”

“Maybe all of them.” She nibbled at the corner of a brownie, staring into the fire. “For starters, my mom seems to have done a major turnaround.” She described Rose’s big announcement, finishing with, “I know it’s too early to be sure, but I don’t think this is just another ‘ooh, shiny’ moment that’s not going to stick. I honestly think that this is going to be the perfect combination of her old job, her new interests, and the responsibility she’s been missing.”

“That’s huge.” He squeezed her hand. “I’d definitely say that’s worth celebrating.”

“True, but . . .” She hesitated and took a deep breath before continuing. “What she said about making adjustments got me thinking that maybe she’s not the only one who needs to step back and take a look at things. Like you and me.”

Oh, hell. Here it comes
. Logic said the temperature couldn’t possibly have just dropped five degrees. It also said there wasn’t anything he could do to postpone the inevitable. Still, he didn’t want it to end tonight. “Jenny, sweetheart, listen to me—”

“Not this time,” she interrupted firmly, reaching over and stuffing half her brownie in his mouth.

He bit down reflexively, muffling his “What?”

“Shut up. It’s my turn to go first.” She waited, and when he nodded, said, “Thank you. Okay.” She squinched her eyes and rubbed the center of her forehead. “I can do this. I can totally do this.”

Her pep talk added to the knot in his gut. “You don’t have to—”

“I’m falling in love with you.”

That shut him up. Not just because it sucked all the oxygen out of his lungs, but because there wasn’t anything he
could
say. Love wasn’t part of the discussion. It wasn’t supposed to be on the table. Yet there it was, thrown down like a gauntlet. A challenge.

He sat frozen. Numb. Angry, even, because this wasn’t part of their deal. And, also, because a part of him leaped at the words. The man he had been would have known what to say. Hell, he might’ve said it first, as he had done with Lily, over a romantic picnic in their favorite spot at the river’s edge. Back then, he had believed in love as a tangible force, something that could keep two people together no matter what.

It wasn’t, though. It couldn’t. And while his feelings for Jenny went far deeper than he’d ever meant to go, and the thought of her leaving tore at him, it couldn’t be love.

“Jenny . . .” What could he possibly say to that? He didn’t want to hurt her, but couldn’t give the words back.

Her eyes searched his, seeming hopeful. “I know we said this was just short-term, just two people enjoying each other, but you’ve got to admit that it’s gone way beyond that. We’re good together, Nick. Fantastic. When I’m with you, I feel like a better version of myself.” Something must have shown in his face, because she faltered. “Tell me you feel it, too.”

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. “After Lily, I swore I wouldn’t fall for a woman who wasn’t in the same place as me, didn’t want the same things, the same kind of life.”

“And I’m not that woman.”

He wanted her—of course he wanted her. If she had handed him his brownie and announced that the show had been cancelled and she was in town for another month or so while she lined up another gig, he would’ve toasted the fates and told her to move some stuff to his place. But love was another story.

Love was messy. It hurt. It made people smaller than they ought to be.

Aware that the silence had gone on too long, he said, “You don’t belong here, Jenny, and you don’t belong with me, any more than Lily did.”

Her expression hardened. “I’m not Lily.”

“No, you’re not, but you’re like her in that you have important things to do away from Three Ridges.” He took her hand, willing her to understand. “You want to change things up, like your mother talked about? Then get out of reality TV and find yourself a killer documentary to crew on. Better yet, build one from the ground up.” He lowered his voice a notch. “You’ve got a gift, Jenny. Don’t waste it.”

Eyes firing, she yanked away and stood, pacing as far as she could in the small space. “I’m not wasting anything, thank you very much. And for the record, I wasn’t offering to stay, or angling for you to ask me.”

He stood and faced her. “Then what? A relationship can’t survive different time zones.”

“Why, because your last one didn’t? You’re the scientist here—since when does it make sense to draw a conclusion from a single data point? This is different, Nick.” She thumped her chest. “I’m Jenny Skye, darn it, and I’m right here, asking you to give us a chance.” She crouched down opposite him and cradled his face in her hands. “If it doesn’t last, will it really hurt any worse to break up a few months from now than it will right now?”

Pushing to his feet, he walked to the edge of the drop-off. He stared down, feeling the cold in front of him, the warmth he was leaving behind. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“You mean you won’t.” There was a rustle of clothing as she rose.

He turned back. “Jenny . . .” But what was there left to say?

“I’m going to go.” She bent to grab her thermos and set his next to the fire pit.

“Don’t. Not like this.” He reached for her.

She stepped back, shaking her head. Unshed tears made her eyes glitter in the firelight. “Sorry. I don’t . . . I can’t. . . . I’m going to go.” She turned and fled, her footsteps kicking up rocks on the path.

Leaving him behind.

•   •   •

Jenny held it together until she got home, making it all the way to the safety of her room before she lost it. She barely noticed the grown-up decor or Rex charging in at her heels; she just slammed the door and flung herself on the bed, like she would have back when she was a teenager.

This was so much more painful, though.

Silent tears scalded her face and racked her body, and she curled in a tight ball of shock, shame, and misery, wrapping her arms around the center of her pain. It hurt more than she expected, more than she had believed could come from an injury that hadn’t drawn blood, wouldn’t show on an X ray.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she whispered between the sobs. Stupid to think that she had finally found a man who wanted her enough to stay in touch. Stupid to think that it would be okay because he understood her lifestyle. Stupid to think a man like him would be willing to put up with someone like her for the long-term. Turned out, his roots went deeper than she had thought.

“Whuff?” The mattress sagged and rocked as a heavy weight jumped onto the bed, and suddenly Rex was there, sniffing her and then gently pawing at her arms.
What happened?

Shaky and raw, she uncurled her body and patted the bedspread beside her. “Come on, buddy. I could use a hug from someone who’s going to be here the next time I come home.”

The dog didn’t do his two and a half circles, just dropped down beside her with a sigh of sympathy and a low whine at the back of his throat.

Wrapping her arms around the goldie’s neck, Jenny buried her face in his fur, and wept.

J
enny slept like crap and woke up the next morning curled in a miserable huddle. Her body hurt. Her heart hurt. Everything hurt.

On some level, she had known that Nick would have made the move if he’d really wanted to. Now she knew for certain he didn’t want to, didn’t want
her
. Not enough, anyway.

Damn you, Nick Masterson
. When her eyes filled with tears once more, she swiped the moisture away, irritated with herself. And with him. With all of it. Her just-for-fun relationships had never made her feel this way. There had been regret, yes, and the occasional wistful thought of
what if
. Never this ripping, tearing pain in her chest and roil in her stomach, this horrible vulnerability that made her feel naked and exposed even when she was buried under layers of blankets in her own bed . . . which wasn’t nearly as comfortable as his.

She missed his mattress, missed being awakened by Cheesepuff in breakfast mode, missed feeling Nick’s heavy, slumbering weight beside her or hearing his voice rumble “There she is” in her ear as he gathered her close against his warm, solid body. Missed the scent of him, the taste of him, the feel of him.

And, damn it, she was crying again.

“Never again,” she told the ceramic horse, with its glued-on leg. “This sucks.”

The horse just sneered. Rex, on the other hand, popped up with his front paws on the edge of the mattress and a hopeful look on his doggy face.
You okay? Need another hug?

“Oh, Rex.” She sighed. “What am I going to do?”

It was a rhetorical question, of course. She wasn’t someone who could stay in bed all day, or even feel sorry for herself for all that long. Pretty soon she was up and getting dressed, with Rex dogging her heels and alternately bumping up against her in reassurance and bringing her dog toys in an effort to replace whatever it was she had clearly lost.

“Thanks, but I don’t think a Kong is going to do the trick, big guy.” She patted his head, then opened the bedroom door. “Come on. Let’s get this day started.”

Oh, boy! We’re going downstairs!
Worry forgotten, he charged down the stairs ahead of her.

She let the dog out to do his morning business, filled his bowl in the kitchen, and filched a muffin, all without encountering a single member of her family. Breathing a sigh of relief, she headed for the office, fully intending to bury herself in filmmaking.

Find yourself a killer documentary to crew on
, a ghostly voice whispered in her mind’s ear.
Better yet, build one from the ground up
.

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, stiff-arming the door and striding through.

“What was that, dear?” The desk chair spun around from the window, and her mother looked up at her. As if realizing—finally—that she was in the chair Jenny usually used, she said, “Am I going to be in your way? I can work at the dining table, if you’d prefer.”

“I . . . No, you stay. I’ll work at the table.” And maybe disappear for a really long walk, or a drive, or something. “As long as you don’t mind manning the phones?”

“Happy to, dear.” Her expression shifted. “Is everything okay? You look . . .”

“Pissy? Tired? Like a dead thing the dog dragged in?”

“I was going to say sad. Did something happen with Nick?”

Darn it
, Jenny thought as tears prickled, burning her eyelids and fighting to break free. She didn’t want to talk about it, though. Not even with her mommy. “I’m just tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night.” She collected her laptop and headed for the other room.

Her mom’s voice floated after her. “Nick called a little while ago. He’d like you to call him back. He said it was very important.”

Jenny didn’t trust her voice. Not to answer her mom, and not to call him back. A check of her cell phone showed that he’d left two messages there, too, starting an hour ago. Which meant . . . What? Had he woken up lonely and reconsidered?

Ha
. She was done being a stupid optimist and putting herself out there. She had said what needed to be said, and that was that for now.

She would deal with him later, maybe. But not now.

So, with Rex curled at her feet, she got to work on the footage she had shot in Kitty’s Kountry Kitsch, determined to lose herself in the images. She had done two interviews, one with Kitty talking about Mustang Ridge through the eyes of a teenage girl, and another that focused on the store. Thanks to Kitty’s mom, Jenny also had several photos of Kitty in pigtails and Wranglers, riding along with the herd.

Jenny was frowning over one of them, trying to decide if it fit better
there
or
there
, when her cell phone rang. The noise dragged her out of her self-induced filmmaking fugue, and her heart flip-flopped. It wasn’t either of Nick’s numbers, and she didn’t recognize the area code.

She hesitated, then thought, what the hell
,
and answered. “This is Jenny Skye.”

“Oh,” said a startled voice. “It’s you! I’m so glad you answered! This is Miranda Solace.” The woman paused as if that explained everything.

“Um . . . I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“Didn’t Dr. Masterson call you?”

A chill shuddered down Jenny’s spine. What was going on here? “We haven’t connected. Can I help you?”

“We . . .” She paused, and Jenny heard children’s voices and a chirpy song in the background. Then the woman said, “I’m sorry. This is going to be a shock if you haven’t already spoken to your vet. You see . . . it seems that you have our dog.”

Maybe she said something else after that. If so, it got lost in the sudden roaring noise as Jenny clutched the phone, mouth working in a silent wail of
Noooo
!

Rex was her dog. Hers.

He had been sacked out under the table by her feet, but now scrambled out, all paws and floppy ears, looking around for the danger.
What? What? Now what’s wrong?

Jenny dropped to her knees and wrapped an arm around the big goldie’s neck while he thumped his tail and tried to lick her. “Rex,” she whispered, her throat so tight, she almost couldn’t get out the word. “Oh, Rex.”

“You call him Rex? Wow, his real name is Red. What a coincidence.” The woman’s voice warmed; the kids had gone quiet. “I can’t begin to tell you how happy we were when our vet called. We were on vacation this past August, going from campground to campground in our RV, and somebody broke in while we were out to dinner. They took the kids’ games, our computer, some little things . . . and Red. At first, we thought he had gotten out, but then we found his GPS collar down the road. It had been cut off.”

She paused like she was waiting for Jenny to say something, but what was there to say? The story hung together, and Nick must have believed it, if he had passed along her name and cell number.

And then he had called her to try to break the news himself, despite everything.

“Anyway,” Miranda continued, “we kept the telephone chain going, along with Web postings . . . we even consulted an animal communicator. You can’t imagine—or maybe you can—how excited we were when our vet saw Dr. Masterson’s post about a goldie being found.”

“Are you sure it’s him?” Jenny’s voice wobbled.

There was a long pause. “I’m sorry. You’re very attached to him, aren’t you?”

“Are you sure?”

“We saw the pictures. It’s him. Your vet said he was sure you would be happy to keep him . . . but we miss him like crazy. You understand, don’t you?”

“Of course.” It was barely a breath, leaking out of Jenny like it was her last. She looked down at the adoring brown eyes that stared up at her, trusting that she was there and there was a warm spot by the fireplace, just like she had promised him. “Do you . . . I guess you’re going to come and get him.”

“We’re in the car right now. Our GPS says we’ll be there in an hour!”

•   •   •

It was the shortest hour of Jenny’s life. She went through the motions—telling her parents and grandparents, collecting Rex’s favorite things into a small mountain on the porch, and stuffing him full of cookies with only a small twinge of guilt that he might barf it all up on the long car ride.

He stuck to her side through the preparations, bumping against her legs and arms like a young colt in a scary situation, looking up at her with big, worried eyes.
Why are you upset? Is something bad happening? What can I do to help?

The reassurances stuck in her throat, lumping into a hard ball of emotion as her mom hugged him good-bye, sniffling back tears, and Gran added a bag of homemade biscuits to the pile on the porch. Even Big Skye patted the goldie’s upturned head, muttering, “Good dog. Sorry to see you go.” Her father hung back with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking longingly at his shop.

Jenny could relate. She wanted to go back to bed, burrow in, and pretend the past two days hadn’t happened. Or load Rex in the Jeep and go someplace where Miranda Solace and her loud children couldn’t find them, and where she wouldn’t keep bumping into things that reminded her of Nick.

With five minutes to spare on the hour she’d been given—and GPS always lied, anyway—she patted her thigh. “Hey, Rex. Want to go for a walk?”

He leaped up and danced in a circle.
Oh, boy! Walkies!

They set out across the parking lot, heading for the path beside the barn, but hadn’t gone more than a hundred yards when the sound of an engine broke the winter silence, and a minivan came over the hill.

Jenny’s instincts said to run. Her conscience had her turning back. “Sorry, Rexy. False alarm. Want to go see—”

As the minivan pulled into the lot, the goldie lit up like a firecracker had gone off beneath him. He lunged away from Jenny and raced toward the vehicle, barking his fool head off. And even before the car had come to a complete stop, doors flew open and kids hurtled out—two boys and a girl, the three of them seeming more like a dozen as they pigpiled on Rex.

Jenny started toward them. “Don’t . . . his ribs . . . oh, damn.”

Rex nearly turned himself inside out trying to greet all of the kids at once.
Ohboyohboyohboy! You’re here! Where have you been? Oh, let me lick you!

The driver’s door swung open and out stepped a middle-aged, middle-size woman with middling brown hair and a smile that lit her entire face when she looked at the melee. “Red! It’s really you!”

Rex—or Red—gave a happy bark, ripped away from the kids, galloped a wide circle around the woman, and plonked his furry butt in a sit-stay belied by his excited whole-body quiver. Miranda laughed, dropped to her knees, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “There’s my big boy!”

The kids shrieked and piled back on with lots of hugging and laughter, and piping shouts of “Red!” and “No, it’s my turn!”

Jenny felt a touch on her arm. Turning, she found her mother and father on one side of her, Gran and Big Skye on the other. They were looking at her with so much sympathy that she was tempted to curl up in a tiny ball and wail. She didn’t, though. Been there, done that, hadn’t helped things any. “I’m happy for them,” she said through numb-feeling lips. “It’s not like I could take him with me when I left.”

The woman rose and turned toward them, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It really is him, isn’t it?”

Jenny jammed her hands in her pockets. “We, um. He’s got some beds and toys and stuff. We’d like you to have them.”

The other woman’s eyes went to the avalanche on the porch, and widened. “Why, thank you.” Then she looked back at Jenny. “I mean it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Dr. Masterson told me how you rescued Red, and everything that you’ve done for him. I want to reimburse you, of course.”

“We don’t want the money.”
We want Rex
. Jenny swallowed, fighting to keep her composure. “We would’ve done the same for any animal in need.”

“But . . .”

“Give it to a local shelter, if you like.” The kids were wrestling with their dog in the snow, shrieking with laughter as the powdery white flew everywhere.

Under any other circumstance, Jenny would’ve been dying for a camera. As it was, she was dying for this to be over.

Miranda’s expression was heading toward stricken. “I’m so sorry. I wish . . .” She shook her head. “If it was just me, I would leave him with you. Where better for a dog than a farm? But the kids love him. They need him, now more than ever. My husband’s cancer—”

“It’s okay,” Jenny interrupted, knowing it was rude but unable to listen anymore. “You don’t have to explain. He’s yours. Take h-him.” Her voice broke on the last word.

Things moved fast after that, blurring into a rush of bodies and dog toys, and Miranda’s raised voice as she herded the kids back into the car. Then she opened the back deck to reveal a dog gate and a worn bed flecked with red-gold hair. She patted the deck. “Come on, Red. In you go.”

Oh, boy. Car ride!
Rex bounded toward the vehicle, but stopped halfway, and looked back at Jenny.
Aren’t you coming?

Last night she had told herself her heart wasn’t broken, that she had kept enough of herself intact that she was going to be just fine. Now she couldn’t even find that lie. She was empty. “Go on, buddy. It’s okay.”