“Shh, it’s all right, girl.” John offered his hand but remained stationary. “Is this your dream, Gemma? To rescue animals?”
“Not really. When I bought this place, I, well…” Her voice faded as she retrieved another apple and some carrots. “I was in a different head space. Anyway, the dogs came and the rest is history. Now, this guy here.” She offered the Clydesdale some apple. “He’s my man. Hercules.” She patted his thick jaw. “The grandson of an old farmer brought him to me. Once he arrived and I saw his sweet soul in his eyes, I knew. This ranch would be his forever home. All of them are home forever. They’ll never have to worry about rain rot, starvation, abuse, fighting, or neglect again.” She offered Hercules a carrot, which he took gently.
John loved the big guy immediately. He ran his hand down Hercules’s neck and back and over his muscled rump. “You mentioned you’d been here two years. What engaged you before animal rescue?”
“Nothing to note.” Clipped, crisp, with a lingering, non-spoken explanation. She moved onto the mini. “This little lady is Silver. The owners moved and thought they’d given her to a caring family, but they were too busy, and she was ignored. My name came up as a possible new home. She moved in and took charge six months ago. She’s in love with Hercules.” He snorted at the sound of his name then lowered his muzzle to Silver, who stretched toward him as high as she could. “Whinny tries to ignore her, but Silver’s leadership rules the barn and the barnyard.”
As they talked and admired the herd, an evening song began just beyond the open doors. A choir of pond frogs and crickets and night birds sang farewell to the day, bidding the reddish-orange July sunset good night and sweet dreams.
John made quick friends of Hercules and Silver with more apple and carrot treats, but Whinny remained skeptical and left the barn. Hercules and Silver soon followed. The dogs napped on the cool stone floor while the cats returned to their sleeping loft via a staircase of hay bales.
Standing next to Gemma, not quite ready to leave her company, he checked his watch. “The fireworks display begins soon. Are you returning?”
“I’m done for the day. Ranch life has turned me into an old lady. I’ll stay here, warm up some leftover pizza.” She brushed her hair away from her face, which became sweeter and more beautiful the longer he was with her. She possessed classic, timeless features. “Wait for Imani to come home.”
“Imani? Your daughter?”
“Daughter of a friend. I’m her guardian.”
“I see. Where is your friend?”
“She dropped dead of an aneurysm when she and Imani’s dad, also my friend, were looking for a Manhattan apartment. I still remember the day she died. It rained so hard, like the heavens were weeping. Ethan died a few years later in a single-car crash.” Gemma whistled for the dogs as she turned to go. They jumped up and darted ahead to the house. Except Blue, who paused by John with a wistful look in his brown eyes.
“Nice to meet you ole boy. But I’m shoving off.” Though he was in no hurry to go.
“I have enough leftovers if you care to stay.” Gemma drew the front barn doors closed then paused for his answer. By her tone he couldn’t ascertain if the request was sincere or out of obligation. After all, he’d cleaned four rabbit cages and fed the goats.
“Thank you but I don’t want to intrude.”
“Please, you’re not intruding. I can at least give you last night’s—or was it the night before?—pizza and a glass of wine for your help. Unless you think Buck will miss you.”
“He knows where I am.”
“I apologize in advance for the house.” She motioned for him to come along. “Like I said, it needs work.”
“I find it rather charming. At least you own your own place. I live in a palace owned by my ancestors and now the Crown Trust of Lauchtenland.”
Before she died, Holland brought up the notion of purchasing their own home. The family owned Hadsby Castle and their apartment there was three thousand square feet but still, she wanted a place of their own.
“For our children and grandchildren. Our own private retreat.”
The screen door creaked as Gemma pulled it open. “Welcome to a ’70s time capsule, Prince. Yellow linoleum, paneled walls, Formica counters and table, and shag carpet.”
He followed her inside. The place was dated and dark but warm, cozy, and fragrant with cleaners, scented soaps, and perfume.
“If you want, we can watch the fireworks from the back deck. There’s a perfect spot on the eastern edge. The deck is rotting, but I have two new deck chairs in a secure spot. Fit for a prince, if you dare.”
“I accept your invitation to watch the fireworks and share a glass of wine, but please, let me spring for fresh pizza.”
“Well you did make me fall…”
“Then we should order extra pepperonis.”
While she dialed a place called Angelo’s, John studied the kitchen and peered into the living room. Knock out a wall and she’d have a rather grand space. He chose not to venture down the long, dark hallway to the bedrooms. Too private. If any man understood privacy, it was the crown prince of Lauchtenland.
Back in the kitchen, Gemma cleared the glistening red Formica table of papers, a book bag, and leftover dishes, then poured two glasses of wine.
“Prince—”
