Love Inspired May 2021--Box Set 1 of 2, page 46
Samson tugged on her sleeve. “Didn’t you say you have a ferret?”
“That’s right, I do,” she said. “Good memory.”
The little boy looked around, frowning. “Where is he?”
“Farrell lives inside the house.” She placed a hand on Samson’s shoulder. “How about we head in there now?”
Wyatt’s eyebrows lifted. “You named your ferret Farrell?”
“I like alliteration. Grasshopper Grange. Farrell the Ferret.”
“Why not Grant the Great Dane? Alice the Alpaca?”
She made a clicking sound with her tongue. Leave it to Wyatt to miss the point. “That would be overkill.”
“Right. Of course. My mistake.”
The next hour was filled with a flurry of activity. Remy started a load of laundry that included Wyatt’s shirt, then fed her guests the promised spaghetti and meatballs.
Samson yawned over dessert. “Can I go play with Scooby and Farrell in the other room?”
“Sure.”
The moment the boy disappeared, Wyatt said, “Thanks for feeding us. It was really great, even better than your mom’s.”
The compliment warmed her to her toes. “I enjoyed the company.”
She didn’t want the night to end.
“Let me help you with the dishes before Samson and I head out. You wash. I’ll dry.”
The offer was sincere, polite even. But Remy didn’t want to wash dishes while Wyatt dried. It would be too intimate, something a husband and wife would do together. Add in Samson’s laughter, Farrell’s chattering and Scooby’s happy barks, and the whole scene would feel too domestic, as if they were a real family. “Let’s have coffee first.”
“You sure you don’t want to tackle the dishes before we relax?”
“Absolutely. Go sit with Samson. I’ll bring the coffee out in a few minutes.”
While the coffee brewed, Remy paced in a tight circle, trying to wrestle the nervous energy rushing through her veins into some semblance of order. What was happening to her?
Something big, she knew. Something that had to do with Wyatt. She took a peek into the living room, and regretted it immediately. Wyatt had settled in a chair facing the couch, his eyes on Samson. His expression was filled with the love a parent had for his child. Not uncle to nephew, but father to son. Remy thought her crazy, beating heart might crack a rib.
As if sensing her watching him, Wyatt turned his head and gave Remy a very different kind of smile. She scurried back into the kitchen, a lump the size of Montana lodged in her throat. What just happened?
She knew, of course. Everything had changed. For her, anyway. Nothing would ever be the same. She would remember this moment for the rest of her life. The moment when she fell forever in love with Wyatt Holcomb.
Chapter Eight
Wyatt couldn’t shake the notion that something monumental had just occurred between him and Remy. One moment, he’d been holding her gaze. The next he was staring at empty air, his pulse roaring in his ears. That was intense, he thought, focusing on his surroundings instead of the way his breathing had become erratic. Or how his conversation with her brother earlier in the day had given him hope for a different future than the one he’d been facing yesterday.
There were splashes of color everywhere he turned his head, something he should have expected but oddly hadn’t. Instead of being put off by the eclectic mash-up of styles and textures, he was immediately comforted. The room felt welcoming, homey even, and very, very Remy. He could see himself spending hours here. Samson on the floor playing with the animals. Another baby on Wyatt’s knee.
He went hot, then cold, then spent the next few seconds watching his nephew move from the floor to the couch. The massive dog followed him. Shifting his big body in several different poses, he eventually wedged himself up against the boy. Samson was asleep within seconds, the Great Dane not much longer after that. Wyatt couldn’t look at his nephew and not think of his sister, or how CiCi’s self-destructive behavior had harmed Samson in ways he was still trying to understand. The boy needed his entire focus.
Wyatt covered his face with his hand, feeling guilt. Regret. A desire to do better. A high-pitched, chattering sound had him dropping his hand to search for the source. Farrell emerged from beneath a chair. The animal caught sight of Wyatt and squeaked excitedly. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
Pink nose twitching, Farrell’s long, limber body arched gracefully across the floor.
“You’re nothing but an overgrown rat.” It was the pointy teeth, Wyatt decided. And the long whiskers. “Stay back.”
Dark eyes glittered from behind the black mask of fur across the tan face. “I mean it. Not an inch closer.”
In a lightning-quick move, the ferret slithered up his leg, across his chest, then wrapped himself around the back of Wyatt’s neck. The animal’s whole body went immediately limp in an impressive imitation of a feather boa.
Chuckling softly, Wyatt reached up and stroked the silky fur.
Remy entered the living room and blinked. “Huh.” She set a steaming mug of coffee on the table next to Wyatt’s elbow. “Farrell likes you.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. Farrell hates men.”
Wyatt gave her a smug twist of his lips. “Not this man.”
“Apparently not.” Smiling now, Remy sat in the chair next to his and glanced over at Samson. “We wore the poor boy out.”
“I should probably get him home.”
“Drink your coffee first.” Before he could argue, Remy went on the offense. “It’s Saturday night. The boy is comfortable. Your shirt is still drying. Relax, Holcomb, and drink your coffee.”
“What’s a few more minutes?”
“That’s the spirit. So...” She took a sip of coffee from her own mug and eyed him thoughtfully. “What’s it like being the sheriff of Thunder Ridge? Run me through a day in the life.”
Absently smoothing a hand over Farrell’s silky fur, he thought about his answer. “No one day is like the other. I could be called out to investigate suspicious activity at a local business. Maybe monitor a traffic accident or resolve a domestic dispute.” His least favorite. No good ever came from those calls. “I sometimes have to execute warrants. Break up a fight. And occasionally, if I’m really fortunate, I get to chase after runaway alpacas.”
She laughed. “And here I thought you had a boring job.”
“Actually, I do. Most of the time. Thunder Ridge is a peaceful community. The tourists that choose to come here are usually families and young married couples. The rowdier groups prefer the larger resorts.”
Remy seemed to think that over. “Still,” she said, setting down her mug on the tiny table between them. “It has to be a big change from your days playing professional football.”
“Not that much different,” he admitted, as surprised by his answer as she seemed to be. “I mean it. I was a quarterback. Both jobs require sound judgment, mental acuity and superior physical ability.”
“Be serious, Wyatt.”
“I am being serious. The skill set transferred really well.”
She eyed him thoughtfully. “No regrets over quitting football and coming home? You were, what? Twenty-five at the time?”
“Just shy of twenty-four,” he corrected.
“Still really young.”
“Yeah.” He’d been young. Young and selfish, and focused on pile driving through his goals. Play Division One football, earn a degree as a backup plan, get drafted into the NFL. He’d accomplished all of that by twenty-three.
Then the call had come.
“You were living the dream,” she said softly, as if reading his mind. “And yet, you quit and came home.”
“CiCi needed me.”
“It was that simple?”
“She didn’t handle my parents’ deaths very well and I thought I could be a stabilizing influence in her shattered life.” He’d been wrong.
Wyatt had been too young, and completely unprepared to take on an angry teenager. She’d fallen in with a bad crowd almost overnight. He hadn’t been paying close enough attention. He’d been too focused on finding a new dream to replace his old one. At his sister’s expense. He could admit that now.
“I failed CiCi,” he said aloud, his voice rough with defeat.
“You didn’t fail your sister, Wyatt.” Remy’s hand covered his. “You saved her.”
He’d been telling himself that ever since he’d arrested her. “I’m not sure anymore.”
“If you could go back in time, would you do anything differently?” Remy asked.
Wyatt had asked himself that question dozens of times, a hundred, always with the same answer. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Her smile, so full of acceptance and understanding, washed over him. In that moment, he felt at peace with the past. “Then you focus on that,” she said. “And let God sort out the rest.”
Deciding he’d had enough masculine attention, Farrell slithered down into Wyatt’s lap, moved across his knees and then leaped into Remy’s waiting arms. She cuddled the animal close and gave Wyatt another, softer smile. This one reached the darkest places in his heart and made him ache. He thought about following the animal’s path—straight into Remy’s comforting arms.
He woke up Samson instead. “Time to go home, little man. Before we overstay our welcome.”
* * *
Remy arrived at her sister’s house Sunday afternoon shortly after 1:00 p.m. She’d missed church, which wasn’t typical but not unprecedented, either. She’d been forced to perform emergency surgery on a golden retriever that had been hit by a car just before dawn. It had been touch and go for a while, but the animal survived the surgery and was recovering nicely. Grace had promised to call Remy if his condition changed. At the moment, all looked good. The patient would live to chase squirrels another day.
Although she hated missing church, Remy was glad she was able to save a life and still make her family’s weekly gathering at her sister’s house. Quinn had taken over hosting Sunday dinner after their parents moved to Arizona.
Keeping with tradition, the guest list was never the same. On any given Sunday, Remy could expect an interesting and diverse mix of adults, children and an assortment of animals. Practically a member of the family in his own right, Wyatt had been attending since he was a boy. Now he brought Samson.
Remy pulled her SUV in beside his truck. Was she glad he was already here? Was she glad he was here at all? She wasn’t sure. Her feelings for him felt new and raw and far more intense than when she’d been a teenager. His departure last night had been abrupt, leaving her wondering if his feelings for her would ever surpass the friendship phase.
She climbed out of her vehicle just as Casey’s vintage 1963 red Ford Mustang pulled to a stop beside her. He hopped out of the driver’s side and stretched his long legs as if working out invisible kinks. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey back.”
Stifling a yawn, he reached inside the car and pulled out his passenger. Winston was one of Casey’s two English bulldogs. Winston’s partner, Clementine, was probably at home running roughshod over her litter of puppies.
Remy hunched to the ground and greeted Winston with a kiss to his squashed-in snout. She caught a glimpse of Casey’s face and stood up to face him. “You look like you’ve already put in a full day.”
“Feels more like two.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I had to pick up a heart from a hospital in Denver and then get it back to Thunder Ridge for emergency surgery.”
As a freelance cargo pilot, Casey knew how to fly all kinds of airplanes and helicopters. He was willing to brave any kind of weather to get the job done. Because of that, he was often contacted at odd times in the night when other pilots were either unavailable or refused to fly. “Did the patient survive?”
“He’s in recovery as we speak.” He yawned again. “I hope Quinn made chocolate cake. I could use a sugar rush.”
Remy frowned. “Don’t you own a coffee shop that serves homemade baked goods?”
“Nothing I sell comes close to Quinn’s chocolate cake. If you tell Janelle I said that—” he pointed at her “—we are no longer siblings.” Janelle was the pastry chef Casey kept on staff at Cargo Coffee. She was good. But not as good as Quinn. No one was as good as Quinn.
“Tell Janelle what?” Remy pretended complete and utter confusion. “I didn’t hear you say anything about anything.”
“You are officially my favorite sister.”
“You say that now. But we both know you’ll change your tune as soon as you get a piece of Quinn’s chocolate cake.”
“I plead the fifth.”
Remy rolled her eyes.
He looked about to say more but seemed to change his mind. “Let’s eat cake.”
He whistled for Winston to follow. They entered the house to the sound of organized chaos. Children’s laughter mingled with adult conversations. People milled about with plates overflowing with food. Craning her neck, Remy caught sight of Quinn’s award-winning seven layers of chocolaty goodness on the sideboard.
Casey was on the move in the next instant, his “favorite sister” all but forgotten.
A familiar fat-bellied puppy came wheeling around the corner and dropped a large man’s slipper at Remy’s feet. “Nice job, Cooper,” she praised the puppy. “You killed it dead.”
He gave her a happy yip. Discovering a new delicacy, he began chewing on the toe of her shoe. “Bad dog.” Trying to look stern, she picked up the puppy and held him up to her face. “No chewing on my new shoes.”
“He’s available for adoption.” Brent came over, looking frustrated and overwhelmed. “Just say the word, sis, and he’s yours.”
“Your daughters would hate me for life.”
“But I would love you for life. That animal is a menace.”
“Cheer up. Once Cooper graduates from Puppy School, he’ll be the best-behaved dog in the family. Won’t you, Cooper?” She snuggled the furry neck. “Won’t you be a good boy after I’m through with you?”
Brent heaved a sigh.
“That being said—” Remy tucked the puppy under her arm like a football “—if he really does become too much for you, Brent, there’s no shame in giving him away to a good home.”
“He can come live with me,” Samson said, peering into the room. “I mean, us,” he amended, looking over his shoulder at his uncle.
“Who can come live with us?” Wyatt asked.
“Cooper.” Samson shot out his arms to Remy. “Can I hold him?”
“No,” Wyatt said at the same moment Remy handed over the dog. Whoops.
“Aw, he’s so cute.”
“We are not getting a puppy, Samson. I mean it. No dog. I don’t have time to take care of an animal properly.”
“That’s okay, Uncle Wyatt. I’ll do all the work.”
“And that’s how it starts,” Brent said, clapping Wyatt on the back. “I said those exact same words. And look where that got me.” He pointed to Cooper.
“I’m made of sterner stuff than you, Brent. Watch and learn.” Wyatt gave the puppy a pat, then attempted to take him from his nephew.
Samson whipped around, presenting his back to Wyatt.
“Give me the dog, Samson,” Wyatt said.
“No. I want to hold him a little longer.”
It was Wyatt’s turn to heave a sigh.
Brent snickered. “You are an oak, Wyatt. An immovable oak.”
“I’m ignoring your sarcasm. No dog, Samson.” This time, when he reached for the puppy he caught the boy off guard. “There.” He passed the animal to Brent. “Done.”
He might have been done, but Remy was not. She clicked her tongue and three more dogs appeared in the entryway, including Cooper’s mother, Belle. Samson squealed in delight.
Brent howled with laughter.
“Stop undermining my authority,” Wyatt ground out under his breath.
Remy ignored him. “Hey there, Belle.” She picked up the full-grown pug-mix and tried to hand Cooper’s mother over to Wyatt.
He went palms up in the universal sign of surrender.
“You know you want to hold her,” Remy said, dangling the dog in the air between them.
“Doomed,” Brent said to Wyatt. “You are so doomed, man.”
Sighing, Wyatt took the pug. At the same moment, Samson asked, “Can I hold her next?”
“No.” Wyatt glared at Remy as he carefully set Belle on the floor.
Taking pity on the man, she distracted Samson. “I think we need some cake right now. Come on, kiddo, the first slice is on me.”
Samson dutifully followed her.
“I’m not going to forget this little episode,” Wyatt called after her.
Remy waved a hand over her head.
“There will be a reckoning,” he added.
Oh, Remy knew it. And, truthfully, she deserved a good scolding. She’d crossed a line. In her defense, Samson was a sweet kid desperate for attention. A puppy would help. A puppy would also add additional responsibility to Wyatt’s already full load. Yep, Remy had definitely overstepped.
“I really want a puppy, Miss Remy. I mean, I know I get to borrow one for Puppy School and everything, but it’s not the same as having my own dog.”
“I know, sweetie.” But it wasn’t up to Remy.
She was about to say something that would support Wyatt’s stand, but Quinn entered the hallway. “Hey, Samson, just the boy I was looking for. I finished icing the vanilla cupcakes. I saved two for you.” She leaned over. “I put them in our secret hiding place.”
“All right!” Samson took off toward the back of the house.
“Secret hiding place?” Remy asked.
“That’s between Samson and me.” Quinn paused, looked hard at Remy. “You going to tell me what’s wrong?”
