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“When did Jess get a dog?” Reed asked his brother.
“Must’ve been a couple of months after the last time you were here.”
“The fact that you didn’t know Jess has a dog says a lot about your relationship. I bet you’re one of those uncles who sends birthday and Christmas gifts, but can’t bother with anything else. If that’s the case, you’re in for a bumpy ride.” With that, Avery turned and hurried out of the barn. Reed Montgomery was back, and worse yet, he could still make her heart skip a beat.
* * *
WHEN AVERY WALKED INTO the shelter twenty minutes later to a chorus of barking and meows, she still hadn’t regained her emotional balance from seeing Reed. When she’d first spotted him, her palms had grown sweaty. Her heart had raced. All reactions she hadn’t experienced with a man in far too long.
She needed to go on a date with someone. Anyone. What had it been? Six months? Longer? That was her problem. She’d been neglecting her social life.
Like that was something new?
When she found time to date, it seemed no one could hold her interest. Invariably she discovered some irritating habit she couldn’t overlook, or her boyfriend’s future plans conflicted with hers. Whatever the reason, the fun and attraction fizzled out after a few months.
Stop it. Focus on work and quit thinking about Reed and your pathetic love life.
So far the week had been a good one for the shelter. Five dogs, six cats and three horses had been adopted. They’d gotten enough donations to buy animal food to last until the end of the next month. Hopefully the recent events indicated an upward trend.
“Betty Hartman called this morning and said she couldn’t come in,” Emma Jean Donovan, Avery’s volunteer coordinator and right-hand gal, said the minute Avery walked into the front reception area.
“Oh, the joys of working with volunteers.” People thought nothing of canceling at the last minute, not realizing how the shelter relied on them to accomplish many of the daily tasks, chores that had to be done, no matter what.
“Because she wasn’t here, Shirley didn’t have anyone to gossip with, so guess who got an earful?”
“Better you than me, Em.”
“All she could talk about was Reed Montgomery being back in town.”
“So I discovered when I stopped by the Rocking M this morning.”
“You saw him? Are you okay?”
While Em had been two years behind Avery and Reed in school, everyone in town knew about their messy breakup. The news had spread through Estes Park High faster than the flu. “I was barely eighteen when we broke up. I got over him ages ago. So what if he’s back? I don’t care.”
“Oka-a-ay.” Em drew out the word, and tossed her a sly whatever-you-say-though-I-don’t-believe-a-word-of-it grin. “You don’t have to convince me. Is he still hot?”
“He looked sort of silly standing there in the barn wearing dress pants and a pinstriped shirt, but I guess he’s attractive in a California yuppie sort of way.”
Liar. He’d looked better than ever. He’d been a teenager when he left. He was all man now.
“I could get used to California yuppie. If you’re not interested, do you mind if I make a play for him?”
“He probably has a yuppie girlfriend, but if he doesn’t, go for it.” Annoyed with the topic and her internal hell-no reaction to Em’s question, Avery steered the conversation back to shelter business. “Has anything happened that I actually need to know about?”
“We had an abandoned mama dog and her litter dropped off this morning. The pups are about three weeks old.”
So much for the to-do list she’d compiled last night. Avery’s top priority now became examining the latest arrivals and getting them ready for foster care. The commotion at the shelter was too much for a mama and her babies, especially for the five weeks until they could be put up for adoption. “Got any ideas of who can foster the little family?”
“It’s already taken care of. Jenny will pick them up once you give them the all clear.”
“You’re amazing.”
“And on only four hours’ sleep.”
“I heard the band was playing at Halligan’s. How’d the gig go?”
Music and her country-and-western band were Emma’s first loves, with animals a close second. She worked at the shelter to pay her bills, and moonlighted playing at area bars in the hopes that someone would spot her and offer her a record deal.
Emma’s face lit up. “The crowd was small but enthusiastic. My new song went over well.”
“When your record deal comes through, promise me you’ll train someone before you leave me. Not that anyone would do the job as well as you do, but at least then I’ll have a chance for survival.”
“I am one of a kind.” A beaming Emma held out an envelope. “This came by registered mail.”
Avery read the return address. Franklin, Parker and Simmons, attorneys at law in Denver. “Let’s hope it’s good news. Maybe someone left us a bequest in their will.”
She tore open the envelope, pulled out the letter and started reading. The missive indeed dealt with a will—Sam Weston’s. Twenty-five years ago, when Geraldine Griswald had created an animal shelter, her husband and Sam were hunting buddies. Sam, also an animal lover, rented Geraldine a piece of land with a tiny building along Highway 35 East for one dollar a year. Eventually, the shelter raised money and built a bigger facility.
Avery read further. No. This couldn’t be right. The shelter didn’t own the land their building stood on? Everyone believed Sam had donated the land to the Estes Park animal shelter over fifteen years ago.
This couldn’t be happening.
She read further. Sam’s heirs wanted to sell all his land to a developer, including the parcel where the shelter stood. They’d “generously” offered to let the shelter buy their lot if they matched the developer’s price of three hundred thousand dollars. Otherwise, they had forty-five days to move.
Three hundred thousand dollars. Just raising a 20-percent down payment of sixty grand would be daunting in the allotted time. Avery swallowed hard and tried to push down her panic.
The Estes Park animal shelter was the only one for miles. If it closed, the other shelters would have trouble dealing with the additional demands on their resources, and the animals would pay the price.
“From the look on your face, I’m guessing it’s bad news.”
Talk about an understatement, but Avery couldn’t tell Emma that. Until she checked into the situation, she’d keep the news to herself. But if she discovered they didn’t own the land, everyone would hear about the situation, because they’d need every cent they could get to keep the shelter open.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Avery inwardly winced. How could she say that with a straight face, especially to Emma who knew her so well? They’d both pinched every penny thin over the past few months to keep the shelter afloat, but she thought she could come up with sixty grand? Delusional, that’s what she was.
“Next thing you’ll try to sell me the Rocky Mountains.”
So much for keeping the news to herself, because she refused to lie to Emma. Glancing around the front room, Avery made sure no volunteers or other staff members were around before she told Emma the news.
“What are we going to do? Do I need to update my résumé?”
“Don’t you dare. I need your help now more than ever. This is the game plan. While I’m examining the new arrivals, you’ll contact the property clerk to find out who they show owns the land.”
“What about the board?”
Avery cringed. Harper Stinson, the shelter’s board president and a top graduate from the micromanager school of business, had hinted they could solve all their financial problems by cutting staff. If Avery didn’t handle the situation carefully, Harper would run amok through the streets of Estes Park with the news of the shelter’s impending doom.
“I’ll figure out how to tell the board when I have more information.” She’d be proactive. Assess the situation and develop a plan before she spoke to them.
“Lucky you.”
“The board may be a big help. They’ve got a wide range of skills and talents, and that’s exactly what we need right now.”
“When they aren’t arguing over who has the best idea and who should be in charge of the project.” Emma shuddered. “I still have nightmares about our last dog-washing fund-raiser.”
“Thanks for reminding me about that.” Three of the board members had taken on organizing key aspects of the fund-raiser. Avery had been forced into the peacemaker role when the lines between the jobs blurred and toes got stepped on. “They’ll pull together better this time because it’s such a dire situation. You’ll see.”
“You’re such an optimist.”
“If I wasn’t I’d never survive running a nonprofit agency.”
* * *
REED’S DAY STARTED at the bank getting the forms notarized for him to be Jess’s guardian while Colt was overseas. Then he and Jess took Colt to the airport. On the drive to Denver, his niece slouched in the backseat texting and ignored her dad’s attempts at conversation, while Reed tried to ignore how much Jess’s actions hurt Colt.
When Colt hugged Jess, telling her how much he loved her, and how he’d miss her, Reed’s eyes teared up. He and his brother shook hands, thumped each other on the back, and Reed reminded Colt not to act like an idiot and get himself hurt. Then he prayed this wasn’t the last time he would see his brother.
On the return trip, Jess sat stoically in the passenger seat, texting. After a few feeble efforts at conversation, she snapped that she didn’t want to talk. Then she popped in earphones, cranked up her music and shut her eyes.
When they returned to the ranch, she retreated to her bedroom while Reed saw to the stock. A couple of hours later, dripping in sweat, muscles he hadn’t used in years sore from hauling hay and water, he crawled into the shower.
After cleaning up, he headed downstairs to work on dinner. He’d learned to cook out of necessity when he and some college buddies lived off campus his senior year. Unable to afford eating out every day and sick of boxed mac and cheese, he’d turned to the internet and the Food Network.
He glanced at his watch. Not even six and he felt as though it was after midnight. As Reed added chopped garlic, onions and ginger to the chicken breasts cooking in the skillet, the aromas engulfed him. Though the sleek stainless-steel-and-earth-toned kitchen looked nothing like the one he remembered growing up, he still could see his mom standing in the same spot as he did now.
Life had been so different before she died of breast cancer.
He often wondered why she had married his father. Talk about opposites. His mom loved to cuddle up with her sons every night before bed and read to them. He could still hear bits and pieces of Green Eggs and Ham read in her soothing voice. His mom quickly and generously offered support and encouragement, while his father tossed out criticism and orders. When his temper exploded at his sons, his mom stepped in and smoothed things over or took the blows. She also kept his father’s drinking in check. All that changed when she died.
Reed tossed sliced carrots, snap peas, broccoli and soy sauce in the pan. Nothing he’d ever done had been good enough for his father. When he showed an interest in business and computers, his father took that as a personal rejection. Ranching had been good enough for Aaron Montgomery and his father before him—why the hell wasn’t that good enough for Reed? His father expected, no felt, his sons owed it to him to stay at the ranch and take care of him in his old age.
As if either he or Colt would do that after the hell their father put them through.
After plating the chicken and sautéed vegetables, he walked to Jess’s room and knocked on the door. High-pitched barking sounded from inside. “Dinner’s ready.”
The door opened, and Jess stood there, a brown Chihuahua clutched to her chest. The dog immediately growled at him. “This is Thor?”
“What’s wrong with my dog?” Jess asked, her voice laced with distrust and irritation.
Did all teenage girls twist the simplest questions into knots?
“When your dad told me you had a dog named Thor, this wasn’t the image that came to mind.” He’d envisioned a border collie or a shepherd mix. A dog that would be useful around a ranch, not one that fitted in a girl’s purse. “Why’d you name him Thor? Don’t girls usually name their dogs Mr. Boots or Prince Charming?”
“And you know that because you’re such an expert?” Still clutching the dog, she stalked past him toward the kitchen.
He still couldn’t get over the difference in his niece’s appearance since he’d seen her last. With her dark brown shoulder-length hair and wearing enough makeup to start her own makeup counter, she was fourteen going on twenty-two.
When he reached the kitchen, Jess was seated at the round oak table, her dog settled on her lap. He was having dinner with his niece and her dog. Dogs belonged under the table begging for scraps, not seated on someone’s lap. He opened his mouth to tell her to put Thor down, but paused. A fire burned in her eyes, as if she dared him to say something, as if she was spoiling for a fight. He’d entered labor negotiations where people looked at him with less animosity. A smart businessman picked his battles carefully.
Reed reached for the plate of chicken. The dog peered over the table and snarled.
“Does he growl at everyone, or is it just me he doesn’t like?”
“He’s very sensitive.” Jess picked up a small piece of chicken and fed the morsel to her pet. “In his head, you came and Dad left. It’s kind of a cause-and-effect thing.”
“You sure it’s okay for him to be eating chicken with soy sauce and all those spices?”
Jess rolled her eyes and made a tsking sound with her tongue as though she was the Dog Whisperer and he the idiot who couldn’t spell dog.
This charged silence couldn’t continue between them. Even he could tell she was bottling up her emotions, and anger simmered barely below the surface. Better to bring things out in the open than have them explode later, but how?
“What about you? What are your thoughts?” Reed kept his voice level and unconcerned.
“It’s not like I had any choice.”
“When I was your age, not having any say about something ticked me off big-time.” Not that his father had ever noticed. Or would’ve cared if he had.
Jess shrugged and handed her dog another bite of chicken.
This was getting him nowhere. Could he use a strategy he applied to employees with Jess? Build a team atmosphere? “I know this is hard for you, and I’ve got to admit, it’s not easy for me, either. Since Mom died when Colt and I were a little younger than you are now, we grew up in an all-male household, but I’m not that bad a guy, am I?”
Jess eyed him cautiously. “I don’t know. The last time you were here, you left the toilet seat up. That really ticks a woman off, you know.”
The chip Jess carried around on her shoulder had to be getting heavy. Maybe if he made her laugh, she’d loosen up. “In a show of good faith I’ll invest in one of those toilets that have an automatic seat-lowering feature.”
His niece smiled, ever so slightly. “Whatever.”
“I wouldn’t want to have to call your dad and tell him you fell into the toilet.”
“Eww! Thanks for putting that image in my head!”
Her bright giggle thrilled him, easing the tightness in his chest. Maybe they could make a go of this. At least long enough for him to change her mind about staying with her grandparents. “I haven’t worked on a ranch since I went to college.” He’d gone to summer school to avoid coming back. “I’ll be relying on you a lot.”
Her smile faded, and her chocolate eyes darkened. “If you think I’m going to do all the work around here, forget it.”
“I was thinking of you as an expert consultant.” Giving someone a title helped an employee feel vested in a project. She nodded, but remained quiet. “Do I have any redeeming qualities, or am I a total pain in the ass?”
As Jess eyed him he could practically see the biting comment forming in her mind. Then her gaze softened. “You’re a good cook. Even better than Dad, so at least we won’t starve.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING AT FIVE Reed dragged himself out of bed, threw on jeans and a T-shirt and headed for the barn. He went to the hayloft and grabbed a bale, jumping when a rat scurried over his boots. At least it wasn’t a snake. He’d never gotten used to them. What was the rule about which ones were poisonous? Something about red, black and yellow being a friend of Jack or killing a fellow, but that’s all he recalled. Making a mental note to check Google for poisonous-snake sayings for future reference, he tossed the hay out of the loft.
While his muscles strained against the unfamiliar work, part of him had come to enjoy the physical exertion. The upside was he collapsed into bed at night exhausted enough that being back in his old bedroom didn’t prevent him from falling asleep. Of course, he didn’t sleep all that well, either, but one out of two wasn’t bad.
He filled the hay bins in the stalls, then gave each horse some grain and fresh water. Next he went in search of a saddle, surprised to find his old one in the tack room. He smiled, remembering how he’d saved for a year to buy it. He ran his hand over the suede seat and the basket-weave tooling, then lifted the saddle and carried it into the stall of a calm chestnut. His body went into autopilot, his hands efficiently accomplishing the task of saddling the horse.
