Husband for Hire (12 page)

Her fretting didn't lead to any answers, then she realized he'd fallen asleep.

She closed her eyes and joined him, naked, entwined and feeling happier than she had in a very long time.

 

Gavin tried to grab hold of something, anything, but there was only open sky. No lifeline. No safety net. He struggled, he fought, he strained. His world spun as he plummeted. Was he falling faster or was the bottom rising? Or both?

“Gavin!”

A hitch in his fall, like the wind had come up, shifting him sideways…

“Gavin, wake up. You're dreaming. Wake up!”

Becca. Her voice was coated with fear. Of him?

Flat on his back, he opened his eyes, lying still, registering his surroundings. The bedding was in tangles, jumbled around his feet.

“Are you okay?” Becca asked. Naked, she was kneeling next to him. He was also naked…and vulnerable.

“Yes.” He grabbed her hand, pressed it against his chest, held it there, needing the connection.

“Your heart's thundering. You were having a night mare. It seemed…horrible.”

“It was.” He pulled her down next to him, tucked her close. Even accustomed to the nightmares, he
knew this one had been particularly bad. If she hadn't woken him up, would he have hit ground?

“Do you have nightmares a lot?” she asked, her hand still resting right over his heart, but not moving, just being there, offering more comfort than she could ever imagine.

“Yes.” She might as well know that much, since she was bound to see him have more. The wide-awake ones he had were bad, too. If she'd noticed those, she hadn't said anything.

She didn't say anything now, either, but her expression said everything.

“I'm okay.” He brushed his lips against her hair. “Were you scared?”

“Not for myself. You weren't violent. But, yes, I was scared for you. You seemed so…lost.”

Lost.
It was a good word. He'd been lost and wandering for quite a while, even before the lawsuit, actually. He'd come to realize that after watching how hard Becca worked, how many hours she put in. He'd been like that, maybe worse.

He needed to get her to see how much damage it could cause, then get her to make changes. That would be his final task and the most important thing he could do for her. Yes, he'd played the part of her husband. And yes, he'd helped organize her life. But none of that mattered compared to getting her to slow down, to not become like him.

Her brothers needed that to happen, too. And Chip, apparently, wanted Becca to change, as well.

She shouldn't have to live with the aftermath of pushing too hard.

So, he would keep his secret to himself a little longer. He would get her to play, to rediscover fun. That accomplishment would be his reward.

“What time is it?” he asked, looking for a clock, not finding one.

She rolled away from him, grabbed her jeans from the floor and pulled out her cell phone. “Six-thirty. We slept for two hours.”

He stretched. “I could eat a horse. Or, in this case, that rotisserie chicken we bought.” He got out of bed, pulled on his jeans and shirt, enjoying the sight of her getting dressed, too.

The furrow between her brows hadn't gone away completely yet. It was nice to have someone worry about him, but he didn't want her babying him.

“You're in charge of salad,” he said.

“We bought premade potato salad.”

“You can manage that, right?” He laughed when she tossed a pillow at him, caught it easily and fired it back, scooping up the second pillow, making it a real pillow fight that lasted until they both collapsed. Then hand in hand, they left the bedroom.

“Were you a Boy Scout?” she asked.

“Why?”

“I'm hoping you know how to lay a fire. I really want to cozy in with a fire.”

“Of course, ma'am.” He pretended to tip a hat. “I'd be more'n happy to.”

She laughed. They carried on a cowboy and the lady routine while they dished up dinner then took their plates outside to watch the sunset, having to wear their sweatshirts as the temperature had dropped quickly.

He built a fire while she did the dishes. Then they settled on the couch to watch the flames.

“I don't mind if you want to turn on the TV,” she said. “Are you a Giants fan? There's probably a game on.”

“I'm good, thanks. Do you feel like you're unwinding?”

“Definitely.”

“How many times have you thought about work?”

“Do I have to tell the truth?” She tucked her feet up beside her and laid her head on his shoulder.

“That many times, huh?”

“It's probably more than you would like, but less than you think.”

“Well, that made a lot of sense.”

“It did to me.”

He smiled into her hair. “Would you like to go for a hike in the morning?”

“Absolutely. This is beautiful country. I hope you have a good sense of direction because mine stinks.”

“I think I can manage not to get us lost.” He'd roamed these woods since he was a kid.

One by one she got text messages from her
brothers, saying they were home. Eric texted, too, that he was hanging in there. She told each of them thanks for the honeymoon, that they were already enjoying themselves.

No one texted Gavin. His sister Dixie was halfway around the world, time zones away. Shana had Emma to take care of, to fill her hours. His parents didn't own a cell phone. Even if they had, texting would be beyond their abilities. They never called, anyway. He always had to call them.

His partners were leaving him alone, as he'd requested. Other friends from San Francisco had left messages he hadn't answered in weeks. They'd probably given up on him. He didn't blame them.

But even with the nightmare this afternoon, Gavin could see a light at the end of his long, dark tunnel. He felt…hopeful.

He never would've imagined that participating in a big lie would end up bringing him the peace he'd been craving.

“Y
ou said you wouldn't get us lost!” Becca searched the surroundings with her eyes, panicked. They'd been hiking for a couple of hours, had scared off birds, deer and other low-to-the-ground creatures that were gone before she could identify them. Squirrels hopped branch to branch everywhere they went, startling her.

Gavin looked up. “I know the direction we need to go, based on where the sun is. This way. I think.”

“City boy,” she muttered.

“Isn't that a case of the pot calling the kettle black?”

“I never said I was anything
other
than a city girl.

I wasn't the one feeling confident about hiking in the woods.”

He hugged her. “There, there.”

“Don't you dare be condescending.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.” He passed her a granola bar then surveyed the land. “For the record, I've only been a city boy since I turned eighteen. I grew up in country very much like this.”

“I never would've guessed. Of course you've barely said a word about your past, just hints. I, on the other hand, have been an open book.”

He shrugged. “Different styles.”

“No, Gavin, it's a choice people make, what to share and what to hold back.”

“We haven't known each other long enough to have shared a whole lot.”

“Not even the basics? Like where you grew up? What's the harm in that?” She was becoming increasingly anxious. She'd surreptitiously checked her cell phone a while back, finding no bars. They couldn't even call for help. “I don't see how— What was that?”

He looked in the same direction. A large creature zipped by not far from them.

“Was that a wolf?” she asked, inching closer to him.

“There aren't any wolves here. Coyote, maybe.”

“Coyote?” She looked hard, listened harder, not seeing or hearing the beast again.

“They're around these parts, but they're also noc
turnal. Should be sleeping at this time of day, though. Unless it's sick…”

She grabbed his arm and shook him, then clung to him. “Why didn't we leave breadcrumbs?”

“Because the coyote would've eaten them.” He grinned. “It was probably a dog, Becca. We're very close to civilization, actually.”

They heard an animal yelp and then whimper. Gavin took off toward the sound. Becca, not wanting to be left alone, followed. They found a medium-size, furry brown dog of the mutt variety, with a cute face, its tail tucked between its legs. It held its right front paw off the ground. Seeing the dog up close now, she realized it was much smaller than her active imagination had conjured it to be.

Gavin eased toward it. The animal tried to back up, but yelped again when it set its paw down. “It's okay,” Gavin said gently. “I won't hurt you.”

“It could have rabies,” she whispered loudly.

“It's wearing a collar.” He crouched, then got closer, made more soothing sounds. “Probably picked up a burr in its paw.”

The dog sniffed the air.

“It's wary of you,” Gavin said calmly. “Try to relax.”

She could try to, but she wasn't getting low to the ground like Gavin and risk getting bitten in the face, dog collar or not.

The dog kept its eyes more on her than Gavin, who finally got close enough to touch. He gently petted
the dog, speaking quietly, soothingly. The dog finally lay down, almost dropped to the ground, actually, as if it couldn't stay upright a second longer.

Gavin ran his hands over him, lightly, competently. He yelped when its right front paw was touched. “It's okay, boy,” he said, having determined his gender. “Let me look.”

The dog whimpered but allowed Gavin's examination, his eyes full of pain, making Becca tear up.

“He's got several burrs embedded. Must've stepped in a clump of clover,” Gavin said.

“Can you get them out?”

“Not here. We should take him back to the cabin and deal with it there.”

“Deal with it, as in get in the car and find a vet?”

“That's an option.” He gently scooped the dog into his arms. “Let's go.”

“You know where you're going?”

“Of course I know where I'm going.”

She stopped and plunked her fists on her hips. “You let me think we were lost.”

“
You
thought that. I said I knew where to head.” He looked over the dog's head at her, his eyes sparkling. “We're only ten minutes away or so, city girl.”

Instead of being irritated, she actually loved the way he was looking at her, obviously having fun with her. He probably hadn't appreciated having his abilities challenged, so he'd played her a little.

“I guess you didn't like being called a city boy,”
she said, eyeing the dog, wondering if he would let her pet him, deciding not to test it.

“I wouldn't have taken you hiking if I didn't know I could get you safely home.”

She had nothing to say to that. He'd wanted her to trust him, and she had—to a point. But really, it'd been her own fears about getting lost that had driven her to believe otherwise, to
disbelieve
him. Beneath his outward humor was an inward disappointment that she hadn't had faith in him.

Had he been challenged by that before? Had someone lost faith in him, someone who mattered?

He was a man of many layers, some she'd come to recognize and appreciate, some he hadn't yet revealed. If she hadn't grown up with brothers, she might not have understood how much men needed to feel respected and trusted.

They reached the cabin. “You know the towel you keep in your trunk? Could you get that, please? And do you have tweezers? And manicure scissors, maybe? If not, maybe there are scissors somewhere in the house.”

“So, we're not taking him to the vet?”

“Not yet.”

She got the towel, then headed inside to get her tweezers.

“Bring my overnight kit, too, would you?”

She returned with the items. He swaddled the dog before carrying him inside, setting him on the dining-room table. Gavin gave orders as if he'd been
born to, calmly, confidently, expecting her to obey, all the while keeping the nervous dog from sprinting off. Becca held him while Gavin worked on his paw, trimming the fur between the dog's toes, then ever so gently pulling out six burrs, one at a time, a necessarily long, slow process so that nothing broke off in his foot, where it could become embedded.

When Gavin was satisfied he'd gotten all of them, he doused the footpads with hydrogen peroxide, then checked all the other paws.

“I don't know anyone else who carries hydrogen peroxide with them, and you weren't even a Boy Scout,” she said, pleased when he laughed. “You did a great job, Gavin. I guess working in a hospital paid off. And you,” she said to the dog. “You are one lucky pooch.”

His tail thumped the table.

Gavin lifted him down to the floor. He lowered his paw gingerly, tested it, then finally left it down.

He wagged his tail, gave Gavin a big lick on the face then pranced around the room, his paw seeming a little tender still, but obviously much better.

“He's got a collar but no tags,” Becca said, smiling at how happy the dog was. “He looks hungry. Should I feed him some of our chicken?”

“I imagine you'll get a lick on the face for that.”

She'd barely gotten it out of the refrigerator when the dog came running. “Nothing wrong with his sniffer,” she said, laughing as he nudged her leg with
his muzzle. He ate as fast as she could pull meat off the carcass. “What are we going to do with him?”

Gavin leaned against the kitchen counter and watched her fill a bowl of water and put it on the floor. The dog lapped it noisily until it was all gone then he finally sat, his tongue lolling to one side. He looked ready to sleep sitting up.

“Maybe you could fix him a bed of some sorts? Or put the towel in front of the hearth? I think he'll sleep. I'll make some phone calls and see if I can locate the owner.”

“How do you do that?”

“The lost-and-found posts in the newspaper. The animal shelter.” Although Gavin knew exactly who to call. The Take a Lode Off Diner was the lifeblood of Chance City. If someone in town was missing a dog, the diner's owner, Honey, would know about it.

He located the phone book and found the number while Becca made a bed for the dog, who looked at her then at the towel then back at her again, as if saying, “Who, me? Lie on that? I need something soft, lady! I'm an invalid.”

Becca tried lying down on the towel herself and patting the floor. The dog simply watched her, then after a moment jumped on the couch and plopped, almost asleep before his head hit the cushions.

“Good thing the couch is leather,” she said, kneeling down and petting the dog then pulling back, waving a hand in front of her face. “Phew. He needs a bath.”

She went off toward the bathroom to wash her hands.

Gavin found the number for the diner. He didn't think Honey would recognize his voice. He hadn't been there often in the years since he'd left home.

But just in case he walked outside with his phone.

“Take a Lode Off,” Honey answered in her distinctive voice.

“Hi. I'm vacationing just outside of your town, and I found a dog wandering around who looked lost. He has a collar but no tags.”

She didn't even question why he was calling her diner. “It wouldn't be a brown dog with long fur and a friendly smile, would it? Red collar?”

“That's him.” What a relief. Except, what a problem, too. How was he going to return a dog if he knew the owner? “Can you give me the number of the owner?”

“Dial 1-800-HEAVEN, I guess. She died about a month ago. Her next-door neighbor said he'd take Pancho—that's the dog's name—but Pancho won't have anything to do with him. He runs off, comes back to be fed now and then, then he disappears again for days…. Hold your horses, Jake McCoy! Can't you see I'm on the phone,” she yelled, loud enough for Gavin to hold his phone away from his ear. “Sorry 'bout that. It's lunchtime at the OK Corral. If you want to bring the dog here, I'll make sure he gets to the right person, although I'm guessing he'll end up
at the shelter this time. Who knows? Maybe someone will adopt the incorrigible thing.”

Gavin covered the phone as he laughed. He knew Honey well enough to get that she was playing on his sympathies. She wouldn't take the dog to the shelter. She probably figured, as Gavin did now, that the dog was mourning his mistress.

“I'll give you a call later,” he said. “If that's okay. Give you time to ask around.”

“Suit yourself. Bye now.”

Gavin returned to the cabin. Becca was curled in a chair, dozing. The dog's snore sounded loud in the quiet room.

“His name is Pancho,” Gavin said to Becca as she roused herself and stretched.

“You found his owner? That's great!”

“Unfortunately the owner passed away. Dog's been playing hide-and-seek ever since. The person I talked to said Pancho would have to go to the shelter.”

Becca's face fell. “No. That can't happen. We have to find a home for him.”

“We? You live in a loft and are gone ten to twelve hours a day. My life is similar.”

“I know. But we can ask around. He's a sweet dog.” Her voice got quiet. “I've never had a dog, or a pet of any kind. Jeff is allergic to animal fur. He always felt so bad for the rest of us, and we pretended it didn't matter.”

Aha. Hence, the dog-figurine collection, Gavin decided, her way of coping with the loss of something
she wanted badly. Which didn't account for why she wouldn't take them out of the box, however.

“I never owned a pet, either. Shana begged for a kitten every Christmas, but Dad said no.”

“Does she have one now?”

“Not that I'm aware of.” He scratched his head. “Well, it looks like we'd better pick up some dog supplies. Do you want to go or stay here with Pancho?”

“I'll stay. I don't want him to get worried when he wakes up alone.”

Gavin rested his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned over her. “You'd make a good mother.” He kissed her before she could say anything, a slow, soft, lingering kiss.

“No, I wouldn't. I don't have a lot of maternal skills,” she said, her hands against his face, holding him there, kissing him back.

“You have the most important qualities, and you'd learn the rest.” He straightened. “Now, what do you think? Dog food, bowls, a leash?”

“Doggy shampoo.”

“Definitely. And a brush.” He took the keys she offered. “I won't be too long.”

“Toys,” she called out as he left.

He didn't drive into Chance City but to Grass Valley, a few miles the other direction. With a population closer to eleven thousand as opposed to Chance City's under two thousand, the odds were better of not being recognized.

At least they didn't know where he was staying.

His cell phone rang just after he loaded everything into the car. He looked at the screen. It was the diner. He couldn't not answer. What if someone wanted the dog?

“Hello?”

“Gavin, this is Jake McCoy.”

Gavin almost groaned. “Since when did Honey get caller ID?” He could've blocked the ID feature on his phone except he'd never in a million years expected Honey to succumb to technology. She still hadn't bought a digital cash register.

“Since she had a month of prank calls. They finally stopped, so she's stopped looking at the screen first. Saw your name when she was hanging up. She said you called yourself a visitor. Were you trying to hide your identity?”

“Sort of.”

“I'm going to take a big leap here and say that you must be renting my cabin?”

“Right.”

“Why didn't you just call me directly? I would've given you a family discount.”