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The look on Christina’s face as she barged out brought a twinge of guilt to Seth’s gut. Why he should feel guilty he had no clue. Everything he did was for the sake of his kids, and if this new housekeeper couldn’t see how her dog terrified his daughter, then it was her problem, not his.
Opi and Joseph came in shortly afterward, oblivious to the previous goings-on. Omi took over the sandwich fixings, and a few minutes later they sat down for lunch. Though no one talked much while they ate, the disgruntled frowns Omi flashed Seth’s way left little doubt as to the direction of her thoughts.
Later, with Eva down for a nap and Joseph stretched out on the family room sofa with a favorite book on his e-reader, Omi informed Seth she needed to talk over some business matters with him in the office.
He didn’t need his imagination to guess what “business” his grandmother had in mind.
“Sit down, son.” She motioned toward one of two leather barrel chairs in front of the massive mahogany desk. Seth obeyed, and she took the chair opposite his.
He drummed his fingers on his thighs. “If this is about Christina—”
“Actually, it’s about you. Your attitude isn’t cutting it, mister. I won’t tolerate you being rude to that sweet girl.”
“Omi—”
She silenced him with an upraised hand. “You think I didn’t notice those ice-dagger glances you were shooting her way? You’ve got to give Christina a chance, son. You know what the Bible says about judging people.”
“‘For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.’ Yeah, I know. You’ve quoted the verse so many times I know it by heart.”
“Then heed it.” Omi sat forward, her gaze earnest. “Seth, honey, I know full well the pain you’ve suffered. But you don’t have a corner on suffering. Grant Christina the benefit of the doubt and stop giving her such a hard time.”
Okay, so he’d been a little tough on the woman, but only because of the dog she couldn’t seem to go anywhere without. Controlling his tone, he said, “Can you at least tell me why she needs a service dog? Because I’m just not seeing it.”
Omi sat back with a tired sigh. “All I’ll say is that she was in a bad car wreck a couple of years ago. She suffered severe head trauma, among other things. Her disability is post-traumatic stress disorder, along with the lingering effects of the brain injury. Gracie helps keep her on an even keel.”
Swiveling toward the window, Seth silently berated himself for being so insensitive. Omi was right—he’d been too quick to judge. “I’m sorry for what she’s been through,” he said through tight lips. “But she still has to respect my need to protect my kids.”
“She does. More than you know.”
Seth swung around to face his grandmother. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She merely shook her head as she rose and moved behind the desk. “Tomorrow will be here before we know it. Best get back to work.”
When it was clear his grandmother would say nothing more, Seth stood and marched out of the office. He had plenty to do—tack to clean, a pasture gate to repair, a low spot to fill where the horseback-riding trail cut across a creek. Maybe a few hours of hard labor would take the edge off the bitterness that followed him around like his own personal dark cloud.
Later, returning from spreading a load of gravel at the creek crossing, he glimpsed Christina’s little blue car turning down the lane to her cabin. His next stop was the broken pasture gate, which meant he’d be working only a scant distance from Christina’s door. After parking by the gate, he grabbed his toolbox from the pickup bed and hoped the housekeeper wouldn’t decide to walk her dog anytime soon.
While he searched for a replacement bolt for the gate hinge, the cabin door opened. One hand pressed hard against her left hip, Christina trudged to her car. She popped the trunk and leaned inside, then straightened with plastic grocery bags in each hand. With a grimace and a hitch in her step, she started for the cabin.
Go help her, you idiot. The voice inside Seth’s head shouted with the volume of a megaphone.
Muttering a few choice words, he slammed down the toolbox lid and strode up the lane. Wedging a neighborly smile into his tone, he called, “Looks like you could use a hand.”
Christina halted on the porch steps, her head snapping around in surprise. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
The dog stepped between Christina and Seth, not menacingly but clearly sending a message: Don’t mess with my mistress.
Keeping a respectful distance, Seth firmed his jaw. “You look like you’re hurting. Sure you’re okay?”
“Fine. Just a little sore.” Christina nodded toward the open cabin door. “Excuse me, but these bags are getting heavy, and I’ve got groceries to put away.” When she lifted her left foot, pain slashed across her face. One of the grocery sacks slipped from her grasp.
Seth charged up the steps. With one arm bracing her around the waist, he relieved her of the other bag. “Let’s get you inside. You need to sit down.”
“I told you, I’m fine.” She made a feeble attempt to pull away. “It’s just a muscle spasm. I get them from time to time when I overdo.”
“Like biting off more than you can chew with a heavy-duty housekeeping job?” Shooting a glance skyward, Seth ushered her inside. He needed to let go of her quickly, because he hadn’t held a woman this close since Georgia, and look where that had gotten him. Gently, he eased her into one of the padded side chairs in the sitting area.
She sank down with a groan. “I need time to adjust, that’s all. I haven’t done anything quite so...” She clamped her mouth shut and reached out for the dog, now poised beside her chair.
After gathering up the grocery bags and depositing them on the kitchen table, Seth planted himself in front of Christina and crossed his arms. “My grandmother explained about your accident. And why you need your service dog.”
Christina cast him an uneasy glance. “What exactly did she tell you?”
“Just that you were hurt pretty bad and now you have PTSD.” Exhaling sharply, Seth propped a hip on the arm of the chair across from her. “Look, I know we got off to a rough start, and I should probably apologize.”
“Probably?” Christina released a shaky laugh.
“Okay, I definitely owe you an apology.” He brushed a hand across his nape while deciding how much of his own past to open up about. As little as possible, he reasoned. Doubtful she’d stick around long enough for it to matter. “My grandmother has accused me more than once of being overprotective of my kids.”
Was that a smirk on her face? No, more like a smile of acknowledgment. “Yes, I recognized the signs.”
“Maybe I am,” he said defensively, “but I’ve got my reasons.”
“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out your little girl is deathly afraid of dogs.” Christina’s gaze held his, her tone softening. “May I ask what happened?”
This much he could reveal without too great a risk of deepening the gash in his heart. “My brother-in-law has two Rottweilers. My...wife—” Okay, this was hurting a little more than he’d planned on. He took a stuttering breath. “She, uh, took the kids to visit her brother, and the dogs got a little rough with Eva. She wasn’t even three years old then. The dogs each outweighed her by a hundred pounds.”
“Oh, no. Was she hurt?”
“A few bruises, and a split lip from being knocked down. It wasn’t like they attacked her. They were just being playful and didn’t know their own strength.”
“Still, she must have been terrified.” One hand caressing her dog’s head, Christina sat forward. “I promise you, nothing like that will ever happen with Gracie. There isn’t a gentler animal alive.”
Seth stood. “Just keep her away from my kids.”
Chapter Three (#uf1bd94ff-3366-537e-90ea-f535d8d1ca51)
With last-minute preparations for the reunion guests, Christina had little time to dwell on Seth Austin’s mercurial moods. Seemed he could go from caring and considerate to simmering animosity at the drop of a dusty Stetson.
Also, if she read the situation correctly, he still had unresolved feelings for his late wife. Or ex-wife. Or late ex-wife. Christina still wasn’t totally clear on which label applied. And she definitely wasn’t clear on why it should matter to her, because the last thing she needed in her life was a tall, good-looking cowboy with issues of his own.
Even if his two kids were adorably precious.
When the first of the weekend guests rolled in on Thursday afternoon, Christina thought it wise to get out of the way for a while. She snapped on Gracie’s car harness and buckled her into the passenger seat, then headed for town.
Passing the spot where she’d first encountered Seth brought a quiver to her stomach, so she kept her eyes forward until she turned onto Main Street. Downtown Juniper Bluff appeared no busier now than it had been two days ago when she’d first driven through, which was a good thing because since the accident, Christina didn’t easily abide noise and confusion—another reason she hoped moving to a small town would help her ease back into normal life.
The sun-dappled town square looked peacefully inviting. Christina parked on a side street and walked over with Gracie, and they followed the path to the foot of the horse-and-rider statue. Christina read the inscription on the plaque beneath.
Jake Austin.
Juniper Bluff’s Hometown Hero.
According to the plaque, Austin was a search-and-rescue volunteer who met his death twenty-two years ago while freeing a family trapped in their overturned car.
A tremor raced through Christina as images from her own accident surfaced. Determinedly shaking them off, she focused on the man’s features forever preserved in bronze. The resemblance to Seth was uncanny. Could Jake Austin be his father? If so, Seth would have been a young boy at the time, probably about Joseph’s age. So very young to lose a parent.
Gracie nudged Christina’s hand, the dog’s quiet signal that she sensed Christina’s tension level climbing. How an animal knew such things, Christina had no idea. She was grateful nonetheless and made a conscious effort to relax.
“Okay, girl, let’s walk. After two days of maid’s work, I need to stretch the kinks out.”
After an hour or so of meandering around the square and peeking in a couple of interesting shops, they headed back to the car. Before leaving town, Christina stopped at the supermarket and picked up a rotisserie chicken and small container of three-bean salad. Marie had been cooking all day, and the family would have dinner in the main dining room with the ranch guests. Marie had invited Christina to join them, but Christina doubted she could endure the socializing—or Seth’s annoyed glares—without her dog close by. A quiet supper in her cabin sounded much more appealing.
Hard work and tranquil surroundings were definitely conducive to a good night’s sleep, and Christina awoke the next morning feeling more energized than she had in a long time. The sun had barely peeked over the hills when she trekked to the workroom to organize her housekeeping supplies. As soon as the guests had gone to the main house for breakfast, she trundled the maid’s cart down the path and set to work. She easily finished making beds and freshening bathrooms in the two occupied cabins before the families returned.
Consulting her checklist, she made sure everything was in order in the other three cabins reserved for the weekend, then pushed the cart back to the workroom and deposited a pile of damp towels in the laundry bin. By then, her morning burst of energy had waned. Ready to put her feet up for a bit while sipping a cold drink, she trudged outside.
“Christina!” Marie called from the porch. “Can you come in the house for a minute and give me a hand with something?”
“Sure.” Christina waved and started that way. The soft chair and cold drink would have to wait.
In the kitchen, Christina found Marie huddled over a red-faced, teary-eyed Joseph, perched on a chair at the end of the trestle table. The little boy cradled his left hand and refused to let Marie see it.
Christina hurried forward. “What happened?”
“He was playing in the barn and got a big ol’ splinter. Now he won’t let me pull it out.”
“Ouch.” Offering Joseph a sympathetic smile, Christina knelt in front of him, Gracie at her side. “If I promise not to touch it, would you hold your hand out for me to see?”
“Y-you promise?” He started to extend his hand, then jerked it back. “You can’t let Omi touch it, either.”
“Absolutely not. What if Omi and I both tuck our hands into our back pockets? Will you show us then?”
Joseph thought a moment, then nodded. He opened his left hand to reveal an ugly splinter embedded deep into his grime-covered palm. If they didn’t get the splinter out and clean the wound, infection was sure to follow.
“Wow, that’s pretty nasty,” Christina murmured. She skewed her lips. “Hmm, seems to me you have two choices.”
He looked up with a worried frown.
“Well, if you don’t let Omi pull out the splinter and clean up your hand, you might have to go to the doctor for a shot.”
Joseph gasped and tucked the injured hand beneath his other arm. “No shots!”
Marie patted the boy’s shoulder. “Christina’s right, I’m afraid. Please, Joseph—”
“But it’ll hurt!”
“I have an idea,” Christina said. “Whenever I’m scared or worried or hurting, I just hug on Gracie, and pretty soon I feel better. I bet she’d let you pet her while Omi takes care of your hand.”
Swallowing, Joseph cast the dog a leery glance, then studied his palm. It seemed forever before he finally whispered, “Okay, I’ll try.”
With an inner sigh of gratitude, Christina rose and led Gracie around to Joseph’s right side. “Now, then, you keep all your attention on Gracie and don’t pay any mind to what Omi’s doing.”
She nodded at Marie, who stood ready with an alcohol-sterilized sewing needle and tweezers. Marie pulled a chair closer and sat down, then gently placed Joseph’s injured hand on her lap. While Christina talked softly to the boy and had him stroke Gracie’s soft fur, Marie quickly and efficiently plucked out the splinter.
Joseph looked around in surprise. “It’s out?”
“Sure is!” Marie held up the wood fragment for him to see.
“It’s...so big!” He grinned up at Christina. “And I didn’t feel a thing.”
She tousled his hair. “Thank Gracie. She’s the best, isn’t she?”
Marie stood. “Now we need to get you washed up and put some antibiotic ointment on your hand.”
Joseph turned to Christina. “Can Gracie come, too?”
“Of course.”
The three of them, plus Gracie, traipsed down the hall to the bathroom. After Marie finished treating the wound, they returned to the kitchen as Seth and Eva came in the back door.
At the sight of Gracie, Eva shrieked and leaped into Seth’s arms. Shielding his little girl, Seth glowered at Christina.
This time she refused to be intimidated. “I’m sorry for scaring Eva, but my dog just saved your son from an infected wound.”
Doubt clouding his eyes, Seth looked from Christina to his grandmother. “You got the splinter out?”
“We did.” Marie patted Gracie’s head. “Couldn’t have done it without this sweet thing.”
Now they had Eva’s attention. Still clinging to her father’s neck, she peeked down at Gracie, then shot her brother a worried frown.
“It’s true, Eva,” Joseph said. “I petted the dog the whole time Omi fixed my hand and it didn’t hardly hurt at all!”
Marie reached for Eva. “Come on, sweetie, and I’ll fix you kids some chocolate milk.” Balancing the little girl on her hip, she raised a brow in Seth’s direction. “Why don’t you take Christina down to the picnic area and y’all can start setting up for tonight’s barbecue.”
Seth’s expression said spending time with Christina was the last thing he cared to do, but he didn’t argue. With a deferential nod, he extended one arm toward the back door. “After you.”
* * *
Leave it to his grandmother to put him in yet another awkward position. Seth would have liked a little more time to accept the notion that Christina’s dog had actually proved helpful. Although Joseph’s surprisingly sunny attitude made it pretty clear.
In the barn earlier, when Seth first heard his son’s yelp of pain, he’d tried to remove the splinter himself.
“No! Let Omi do it!” Joseph had screamed.
Seth had sent him on to the house, hoping his grandmother would get the deed done before Seth finished his barn chores and caught up. Times like these were when the kids most needed a mother’s gentle touch. Omi was the next best thing, but Seth knew his son well enough to realize even Omi would have her hands full in this situation.
He cast a sidelong glance at the woman walking beside him. The words thank you sat on the tip of his tongue, but stubbornness prevented him from forcing them out.
