“What happened to his leg?”
“Limb deformity.”
Jenna rubbed Licorice’s ears. “They didn’t want him?” Country nodded. “I see a lot of dogs like that at the shelter.”
“What shelter?”
She patted Licorice and stood straight. “The one in Coventry. I volunteer there every couple of weeks, give or take. The barn will be warm, right?” Jenna buried her face behind her scarf.
“Coming from Windsor, this weather should feel balmy.” The humid cold in Ontario sank its claws into his bones and didn’t let go until spring. At least here he could sluff it off with his coat when he walked inside.
“I didn’t work outside in Windsor.”
“You did when you were reporting.”
Jenna opened her mouth and closed it as their boots crunched against the frozen ground. Country paused next to the antique doors and swung one side open for her to enter. The musty scent of hay and animals filled his nostrils as he followed her inside.
He led her to the corner stall where Lady Grey stood with her head bowed, her breath fogging the air.
“You’re not new,” Jenna whispered as she approached and reached out a hand to rub the soft velvet of her nose.
Country reached through the bars of the paddock and brushed his hand along her flank. "Hey there, old girl. How you holding up?" He felt Jenna’s eyes on him as he opened the gate and did a body check, then refilled the feed bucket.
“Do you want me to bring the hay?”
Country nodded. “Fork’s against the wall.” He broke the thin ice forming at the surface of the water trough then moved so Jenna could put a fresh pile of grass in the basket.
They worked side by side, neither of them feeling the need to make conversation. It didn’t keep Country from stealing glances at Jenna. He tried to read the lines of her face, the curve of her lips, taking stock of all that was familiar and what had been remade with age. There were new stories there, and he hated that he didn’t know them.
“So your team requested me for this story at GCBN?” Jenna asked as she swept loose hay from the floor.
Country thought about pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about, then opted for, “Ryan and Curtis were pissed I didn’t tell them about coming in.” It was true. Not an answer to her question, but she didn’t have to know that.
“You didn’t tell them?”
He shook his head and ran his oil-soaked rag over the edges of his saddle. “I figured they’d find out Saturday with everyone else.”
She grinned. “You always did enjoy a dramatic entrance.”
“Did? Seems unnecessarily past tense.”
Jenna propped her arm on the broom handle. “From the guy who would’ve failed English without my help.”
“I passed the provincial exam all by myself.”
“Barely.” Jenna got back to work, the scrape of the bristles shushing against the floor in a consistent rhythm. Country hung the saddle and propped the door for Jenna to push her pile into the yard.
She propped the broom back in the corner and turned to him, her cheeks flushed and the tip of her nose pink. “What next, boss?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious about this?”
She held out her hands. “I told you I’d work, so I’m working.”
Country buttoned up his coat and put on his gloves. “Why is this so important to you?”
Jenna’s smile slipped. “I want to be an executive producer.”
“So you’ve told me.”
