One Day in Apple Grove (4 page)

“How do you know if you’ve never had a dog?”

Her smile seemed wistful as she answered, “The McCormacks always had a dog.”

It wasn’t so much what she said as how she said it that made him realize that Caitlin needed to be a part of taking care of this little dog as much as he did. Anticipating their time together and the discoveries ahead of them, Jack opened the back door and held it for her. “Come on in. I’ll make us some coffee while you see if Butch here likes his temporary surroundings.”

Cait chuckled, holding the dog out in front of her to look at him. “You don’t look like a Butch to me. Maybe Scamp or Scooter. Something playful.” While he poured cold water into the coffeemaker and hit the brew button, he kept an eye on Caitlin. She lowered herself to the floor and sat Indian-style on the worn paint-speckled linoleum floor, encouraging his new tenant to curl up in her lap. The contrast of the willow-slim woman curving herself around the little dog so that he’d settle down tugged at his heart.

Cait’s slow smile had him wondering if his mom’s favorite saying was true and everything did happen for a reason.

Her phone rang and she shifted to answer it, cradling the pup in her arms. Whoever it was, she told them she was busy and would call back. After she disconnected, he asked, “Milk? Sugar?”

Her sigh sounded so forlorn, he had to stifle the urge to reach out and pat the back of her hand. They’d known one another forever, but only as acquaintances, someone you passed on the street and waved to—not someone you would open your heart to or hug close to make the sadness go away.

Odd, but that last thought wormed its way closer to his heart…and for the first time in too many years to count, he yearned for a simpler life—one without complications—where he could hold a woman in his arms and let the world go by. He couldn’t change his past, but he could try to control his future. Setting those thoughts aside, he waited for her to answer.

She looked up at him, studying his face for a moment before responding. “I like milk.”

He held up the sugar bowl, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. When he cleared his throat, she finally looked up and laughed as he shook the sugar bowl from side to side.

“I’m sorry, I was letting my mind wander. Four sugars, please.”

Jack set down the bowl and backed away from it. “OK, as a doctor, I must caution you about the abuse of sugar. It isn’t good for you.”

Tucking one leg beneath her and the puppy securely in one arm, she pushed to her feet and walked over to stand beside him. “I make it a habit to ignore advice that like. Besides, my dad has been doctoring his coffee with tons of sugar for years.”

“And that little warning he had a few years ago didn’t show up on your radar? My mom and Miss Trudi wrote and told me about Joe’s heart attack scare. It’s never too soon to start paying attention to your diet and physical routine.”

Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, the color of the fairy roses his mother had planted out back by the well when Jack was in grade school. He was entranced by the woman even though he wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed or angry with him. Replaying his last few words through his brain didn’t help.

Handing her the dark blue enamelware cup, he warned, “Careful, the metal gets hot.”

Her color quickly returned to normal as she thanked him for the coffee. “Do you have a little bowl for water?”

Taking a quick sip, he set his cup on the butcher-block counter and opened a cabinet overhead. “How’s this?” He held up a small blue-and-white patterned bowl.

She winced. “Are you sure you want to use your mom’s good dishes?”

He shrugged. “How can you tell that they’re good?”

She shook her head at him and set her cup beside his. “My mom used to have dishes similar to this pattern. They’re probably from England, aren’t they?”

“I have no idea. When Mom and Dad were getting ready to move, they didn’t want to pack too much. They wanted an easier life, less unencumbered, so she left a lot of her dishes and glassware behind.”

Caitlin tilted her head to the side. “Do you mind if I take a look for something less breakable?”

He waved toward the cabinets. “Not at all.”

Taking the dog from her, he watched as she scanned the kitchen before lifting up on her toes and peering into the overhead cabinets. The view was subtly curved and had his mind veering off into a direction it had no business going. To distract himself, he nuzzled the dog and started talking to him.

“Your countertops are empty.”

He frowned.

“No knickknacks. I like filling mason jars with wildflowers—and we still use Gram’s copper cookie tin.”

“I like things simple,” he mumbled, not wanting to discuss his need to keep the house free of personal items.

“So are you lost?” he asked the puppy. “Where did you come from? Did someone just dump you along the side of the road, or did you run away?”

Cait’s back was turned as she held up the Transformers plastic bowl he’d used every morning for ten years. “How about this?” He frowned, wincing at the thought that she’d uncovered a bit of the past he hadn’t shared with anyone since before he had shipped out. Unprepared for the winsome smile on her face as she looked over her shoulder, he wondered what it was about Caitlin that got past his guard.

“Sure.” He reached for the bowl and their fingers brushed against one another, sending a zing of electricity through his system.

Since her back was facing him, he could slowly exhale the breath he’d drawn in and held as he let himself react to her touch. Had she felt it too? By the time she turned around, he was smiling.

While he filled the bowl with water, Cait asked, “So did he whisper any secrets in your ear while my back was turned?”

He chuckled. “Not a word. I think he’s speechless, wondering where he is and what happened to the home he knew.”

“Do you really think someone just dropped him off at the side of the road?”

He reacted to the distress in her voice but, instead of answering, decided to distract her by urging her to set the bowl on the floor. When she did, he set the puppy down and watched him lap up the cool well water. “He was thirsty.”

“Do you have anything to feed him?”

Jack crossed to the fridge, opened it up, and scanned the shelves. “A six-pack of beer, hot sauce, leftover turkey platter from lunch at the diner—I stopped home after lunch—and some eggs. I didn’t have time to grocery shop.”

“But you had time to pick up beer?”

“Beer has a lot of protein in it,” he began, only to fall silent as he looked over his shoulder and watched her settle on the floor. He shut the fridge and turned around. The little dog climbed into her lap and shut his eyes, his doggy sigh of contentment echoing in the quiet.

“He likes you.” Jack watched the way she slowly stroked her hand from the top of the puppy’s head, down the length of the dog’s spine. Mesmerized, back to thinking of mermaids and sea sirens, he couldn’t look away.

“I’ve always wanted a dog.”

He wiped his damp palms on his jeans. “I had two growing up. I still miss them.”

“What happened?”

“Jake, my first dog, was a beagle,” he told her. “He lived to be fourteen. I was so lonely when he died that my folks got another one right away. Sam was thirteen when she died.”

“It must be like losing a member of your family,” she whispered, absently rubbing the dog’s ears.

Jack moved to sit beside her, sensing the direction of her thoughts. Taking a chance, he said, “You miss her.”

Cait nodded. “There will be days when I wonder what my life would have been like if my mom hadn’t been in that accident.” She paused and the puppy squirmed until she started to pet him again. “But we had Pop and Meg.”

“Your sister gave up a lot to take care of you and Grace when you were really little.”

“I know.”

When she remained silent, he couldn’t ignore the urge to comfort her. He scooted closer and let his shoulder brush against hers. That static zing shot through him again. It wasn’t just one of those things. There was something about the woman sitting on his kitchen floor that called to him on more than one level—otherwise he wouldn’t be getting those shocks whenever they touched. Would he, or was he just physically drawn to her?

The knees of her jeans were nearly worn through and clung to her legs and backside like a dream, leaving little to his imagination. She was long, lean, and he couldn’t help but wonder if her legs were as stellar as Meg’s; although the oldest Mulcahy sister was shorter in stature, she had a first-class pair of legs. Well, he thought, the weather was getting warmer, so the chances of him seeing Caitlin’s legs clad in shorts were pretty good.

It had been a really long time since he’d been obsessed with a woman’s legs…longer than he cared to remember. There was more going on here than just the rescue of the little fuzzy ball of fur…had fate stepped in and decided that he needed to be rescued as well?

When Cait’s pocket vibrated against his hip, he smiled. “Is that a pistol in your pocket?” he quipped.

She smiled, obviously appreciating the movie reference. “You’ve gotta love Mae West.”

He grinned down at her. “Do you have to answer that?”

She sighed. “It’s a text.”

When she made no move to retrieve her phone from her pocket, he asked, “Are you going to answer it?”

“It’s probably my dad, and I really don’t have the energy to face him right now.”

He patted her knee and then the puppy. “It won’t get any easier if you put it off.”

“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled, shifting so the puppy could curl up in her lap again. “You didn’t break the law and then scratch your dad’s favorite truck—the symbol of generations of Mulcahys on the job here in Apple Grove.”

“True,” he agreed, “but it could have been worse.”

“I know, I could have dented the door—or somebody could have been hurt.”

Needing to see her smile, he offered, “I have connections if you want a paint job like mine.”

When her mouth curved upward, he felt warm inside. To keep her smiling, he told her, “My knucklehead friends thought I’d get mad that they used army camo colors.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He grinned. “I thought it looked cool.”

“So that’s why you left it when you had plenty of opportunities to fix it over the years?”

He nodded and, seeing her relax, returned to the subject that was obviously troubling her. “Your father was probably worried just as much about you, but now that he knows you’re fine, he has the luxury of worrying about the truck—and doing his parental duty of reminding you that you screwed up.”

“I feel so much better now,” she said.

A lock of hair slipped from her braid and got stuck on the tips of her eyelashes. Without thinking, he reached over and smoothed it out of her eyes. “Good.” The need to pull her closer filled him, jangling his nerves. But he’d satisfied his curiosity—her hair felt soft as silk.

The silence lengthened between them until the puppy chose that moment to leap into his lap. “Oompf!” Stars swam before his eyes as a wave of nausea swept up from his toes.

“Doc, are you all right?”

The sweet sound of Caitlin’s voice was like a beacon in the black of night across storm-tossed seas. He tried to focus on it as he struggled to conquer the pain and ignore the roiling in his gut. He’d learned his iron-clad control in the military; it served him well now.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Fine.”

“You look a little green around the gills.” Caitlin rubbed her hand on his back, an instinctive healing touch—one a mother would use on her child.

The ball of fur started nipping his chin, drawing his attention back to their little problem. “Guys are supposed to stick up for one another,” he scolded. “Not maim them.” As if he had told the dog how much he adored him, the puppy switched from nibbles to kisses, bathing his face with his tiny pink tongue.

“He’s a rapscallion.” Caitlin’s soft laughter surrounded him like a hug.

“I could think of a few other names for him,” Jack said quietly.

She chose to ignore his meaning, frowned at him, and said, “We should name him—and not Butch.”

“I thought you had to go home.”

“Not quite yet.” Her eyes met his and she asked, “Unless you’re kicking me out?”

“Hell no,” he said, and could have kicked himself. He’d have to work harder if he were going to control his salty language now that he’d returned to Apple Grove. “Um…sorry for swearing.”

Caitlin’s belly laugh charmed him. “That’s nothing compared to what Meg has been known to say.”

He grinned. “She always had the knack for it when we were in school, but I would think she’d have had to watch what she was saying—especially now that she’s a mom.”

Cait agreed. “She does. It used to bug her when Grace reminded her that no swearing on the job is our company rule.”

“I bet it did.”

“How about Mack or Fido?” she suggested.

He laughed when the little dog tilted his head to one side and shook it. “I don’t think he likes either of those names.” He chucked the dog under the chin and stared into its dark brown eyes. “You look more like a Jameson…Jamie.” The dog leaped up and licked Jack’s face with abandon.

Caitlin reached over and began to stroke her hand along the puppy’s back again. “I guess you’re Jamie, then.”

Jack agreed. “OK, Jamie.” Holding the dog like a football in the curve of his arm, he pushed to his feet. Once he stood up, he held out his hand to Caitlin. She looked down at his hand and then up at his face before she put her hand in his and let him help her stand. When she trembled, he saw confusion mixed with want in her eyes. The same tangled emotions bubbling inside of him. He’d bide his time—but life was short. He didn’t want to wait too long.

She made no move to close the distance between them, but instead thanked him and scratched the dog’s face. “What are we going to feed him?”

He liked that she was still thinking in terms of them as a unit. “I’ve got some rice in that cabinet over there. My mom had Mrs. Murphy stock the cabinets with dry goods for me.”

She walked over to where he was pointing and reached for the box as he bent to pull a small saucepan out of the cabinet by the stove.

“Nice lady, your mom—Mary Murphy too.”

“Thanks,” he said. “There was a note left on the counter from Mary reminding me to stop by and pick up the grocery order my mom had left with her just in case I didn’t get to the store first thing this morning. I’ll have to pick it up tomorrow.” The dog was content to be held against Jack as he got the measuring cup and filled it with water, dumping it in the pan and flicking on the burner. “Hey, can you put a cup of rice in here?”

“Is that all you’re going to feed him?”

“I was going to add some of the leftover turkey to it. I’ll nuke it first though. I’ll have to remember to pick up some chop meat too—not sure if it was on the list.”

“You planning on making burgers?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Puppies have a tendency to eat things they shouldn’t. We always had chop meat and rice on hand. It’s easier for them to digest.”

She scrunched her face and wrinkled her nose in obvious distaste at his suggestion. “Did you fry the meat and add the rice? It might help cover the flavor since you aren’t using real rice.”