“She wasn’t married to him. Besides, she had no choice but to give up Trent and Scottie. No freedom not to marry. She was the crown princess, bound by the marriage writ.”
“And you are the crown prince bound by the same.”
“As if I could forget. Has Mum fulfilled her promise? To change the writ?”
He turned at the sound of a thud, which was followed by a low, harsh mumbling. Gemma emerged from the stall, hopping down the stone thoroughfare, wiggling her feet into a pair of flip-flops.
“Dad, I’ll ring you later.”
“I’m late.” She breezed by John as he ended the call. “I’ll see if Daddy can help with the nine o’clock feeding. His truck route goes by here.” She stopped in the doorway, ran her hand through her wild mane, and looked back at John as if struggling to orient herself. “But you can’t stay here all day, can you? Um, I’ll, I’ll—Imani, yes, she’ll have to miss basketball camp.” Gemma motioned to where an old Ford truck sat the night before. “Rats, she’s gone. I’ll tell her to come straight home after practice. I’ve got to go. I’m so late.”
“Gemma, I can manage. Gunner is good for more than being my shadow and sleeping in the car.”
“There’s no food to be had.” She patted her pockets, still looking dazed and half awake. They’d awoken every three hours to feed the puppies, and every time the alarm sounded, John rolled over to see Gemma watching the puppies. If she slept a solid two, three hours, he’d be surprised. “I’ll give you my credit card. You can order from Ella’s or Angelo’s. Haven’s bakery delivers too. Oh, they have really great ham sandwiches. Use my shower if you want and I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’m so sorry about this.” She smiled, which he felt from his head to his toes. “You really are a prince charming.”
“And you really are late, lass. Go. I’ve got this. I volunteered to help, remember?”
She dashed into the house, and John roused Gunner from the car, where he slept reclined in the passenger seat, his arms folded across his chest.
They sketched a plan for showers, clean clothes, food, and feedings. A few minutes later Gemma dashed from the house to her BMW, a large tote over her shoulder. She wore a pair of shorts, and as she walked, her skin flexed with long, toned muscles. Her damp hair was knotted on her head.
He admired her for an extra moment—beauty demanded admiration—then looked away. Far too many times these past few days she stirred a desire in him he preferred to leave dormant.
“By the way, Prince, I was thinking in the shower—”
“Where all great ideas are born.”
“We could name the puppies after the cast ofFriends. Ross, Joey, Monica, Rachel, Phoebe, and Chandler.”
“Friendsit is.”
She was about to duck into her motor when the veterinarian’s oversized Cadillac bounced down the gravel.
“Well kids, I see y’all are still standing. How are they doing?” Doc handed John another batch of puppy formula, then as an afterthought, bowed. “I tried to get over yesterday but the Moore’s cow was having a hard birth.”
“To think I didn’t want them and now I can’t imagine letting even one of puppy go.” Gemma backed toward her car. “I’d love to stay, Doc, but I’ve got to run. The prince will fill you in.” She smiled and waved at John, then mouthed a “thank you,” which hit him with the strange urge to kiss her. As if to say, “Goodbye, darling, have a great day.”
What on earth?
Still, he watched her go then found doc in the stall, examining the pups, mumbling to himself, mumbling to them, at last giving John a nod of approval.
“You two know what you’re about. I’ll be back in a few days. Remember to do everything on the sheet. Call me if anything seems amiss.”
With Gunner running errands, John fixed the nine o’clock bottles, weighed the puppies, then fed them one by one. In hindsight, perhaps he shouldn’t have sent Gunner for clean clothes and breakfast before the feeding. The last one slurped his breakfast down as if he were about to starve. Poor darling.
He and Gemma had cared for the rest of the herd after the 6:00 a.m. feeding so everyone was set. Hercules, Whinny, and Silver were out grazing, the cats napping, the goats staring and occasionally headbutting, and the rabbits, well, rabbiting.
The dogs appeared in the barn every now and then. Blue and Tweedy had spotted him from the barnyard and trotted over.
“Want to meet the babies?” John led them to the “nursery” and watched as they sniffed the puppies—if he heard so much as one growl, he’d pounce—but then a wondrous thing occurred.
Tweedy eased down into the sleeping huddle while scarred ole Blue pawed a spot for himself in the hay on the other side.
Well, well, Mama and Papa had arrived. Rescues loving on rescues.
The puppies wiggled and squeaked and rooted against Tweedy’s belly, who didn’t seem to mind she had nothing to give. She nuzzled them and licked their bums in the manner God and nature instilled in her. Blue supervised the operation while sniffing the pile as if to ascertain their DNA. When he’d satisfied his curiosity and approved, he rested his chin on his crossed paws.
John washed out the bottles and lined them up for the noon feeding. Checking his watch, he gazed toward the road for a sign of Gunner. But he’d be a while, what with his own showering, gathering clothes for himself and John, stopping for a latte at Java Jane’s and breakfast takeaway from Ella’s.
