“He shouldn’t be doing that.”
“Tell me about it. How’s your foot?”
“My foot?” He drew down his brows while he smiled. “Foot’s fine. As if you could hurt me.” He glanced at Camo and murmured, “Physically.”
Ouch. That street of pain went both ways.Okay, how can some dude I just met get under my skin this fast?She took a deep breath.Keep it professional. Think of him as a client, because that has to be the reason why. He’s suffered just like they have, and that calls to you. That’s all.
Arden opened the refrigerator and pulled out a package of sausage and a pound of bacon. She considered the size of her guest, then took out a second pound. She grabbed some eggs she’d collected the day before out of the basket on the counter. Camo finished licking his bowl and trotted to the back sliding glass door.
“I need to let him out,” Arden said, setting down the pan she’d grabbed.
“You’re busy. I’ll do it.”
“Oh. Thanks.” She’d have to get used to having help for a change. She’d been doing nearly everything on her own since her brother had left, supplemented by the help of a few volunteers in the summer and fall when the work was ‘fun.’ Not so fun in the cold and snow.
While she cooked, Arden listened to the forecast on the radio. The blizzard was taking a breather but wasn’t done with them yet, and they could expect another couple feet of snow from back-to-back storms. She was midway through frying eggs when it occurred to her that she’d just let the guy who wanted to take her dog away from her out of the house. With the dog. And that was twenty minutes ago and they hadn’t come back in yet.
Idiot.
She slid the eggs onto a plate and took the sausage off the heat. She didn’t bother with shoes, her bootie slippers were warm enough. She sprinted to the back door and stepped out onto the deck, expecting to see two sets of tracks going through the drifts to the front of the house.
Instead, she saw something remarkable. A well-behaved Camo following Kyle’s hand-signals like a well-trained soldier. The dog’s attention was completely riveted on Kyle’s hands. He stood statue-still, waiting for the next command, then executed it with precision. Man and dog acted as one unit. Surprising how gracefully Kyle moved for being such a big guy.
Watching them reminded Arden of the summer her brother Sean took up falconry when he had found a young wounded red-tailed hawk. He was eleven and Arden was seven. Their dad contacted a professional falconer from Lyons and offered the ranch for training. She loved watching her big brother handle the bird, convinced he must be using magic to keep it from flying away. But after a year, he did let it go so that it could live in the wild where it belonged.
Kyle threw something—a ball, maybe, it was too hard to pick out in the hazy gray light—and Camo shot off after it. It disappeared into a powdery snowdrift.Whoops, good luck finding that before spring, doggo. Camo plunged in and the snow flew. Kyle walked to the dog and Arden figured he’d grab his collar and call off the search. But Camo emerged from the drift triumphant, whatever it was held tightly in his jaws.Son of a gun. The sound of Kyle’s praises drifted through the knife-sharp air. He glanced up at the deck, saw Arden, and quieted. He called Camo and they headed for the house. She hugged herself and rubbed her arms briskly to warm her hands. Only a whisper of snow fell but the bruise-colored sky promised this was a temporary truce.
When they got to the deck, Kyle said, “You were checking on us, making sure I didn’t take off with him.”
“No, I wasn’t.”I totally was. “I wanted to tell you breakfast was almost ready.” Her good friend and wingman, the kitchen stove timer, beeped at that moment. “See? Bacon’s done.” She turned on the ball of her foot and went inside. Camo pushed past her, carrying a red Kong. It looked faded and worn. Kyle must have had it with him. Had he been carrying it around? For how long?
He followed her into the kitchen where she took the bacon out of the oven and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. She made up two plates and set them on the farmhouse table. If she’d wanted to be a bitch, she could have set her plate at one end and his at the other, separating them by a good ten feet, just to show she was serious about keeping her distance and keeping Camo. But she didn’t. Instead, she put hers at the head and set his in front of the first chair to the left. She grabbed her laptop so she could keep an eye on the animals.
“Thanks. You didn’t need to cook for me.”
She pointed at his plate with her fork. “Eat. You have to be starving.”
“I’m fine, miss.” His stomach rumbled loudly enough to make Camo drop his Kong and look up from his bed in the corner.
She snickered. “Your mouth says no, but your stomach says yes. And it’s Arden, remember?”
“Right. Arden.” He speared a sausage link and bit off half of it. “This is good.”
“Thanks. I make it myself. I always go halfsies on a pig and a quarter of a steer with one of my neighbors, Mr. Sanders and his daughter. It’s locally sourced from other neighbors. I sell them eggs, goat’s milk and cheese, and board a couple of their horses at a discount in return.”
Kyle pointed at the screen. “Looks like you have several horses. And,” his eyes narrowed, “are those llamas?”
“Alpacas. I board between six and eight horses and four alpacas. Two of the horses are down in Texas for the winter with their owners. The alpacas are great, aren’t they?” She smiled at the window showing the wooly critters. “But the chickens and goats are mine because I’m crazy and a glutton for punishment.”
Kyle looked like he was trying to hold back his laughter. “Is that how you keep the ranch up, now that you aren’t rustling cattle?”
She looked up at him. He’d kept his tone even, but he couldn’t hide the teasing sparkle in his eyes.
“Allegedcattle rustling, remember? Bordering horses is part of how I keep the ranch going, but I also see clients with special needs.”
“Special needs?” He bit into his toast.
“Yeah. I do animal-assisted therapy for people.”
