Santa Paws is Coming to Town, Page 3

  “It’s money in the bank, babe. For you and Waterford.” He truly believed that when her book was published, it would be a best seller. “Not only will it drive more canine training business, it’s going to promote rescuing dogs, which, as you know, is what matters most to me.” He added a kiss. “After my soon-to-be wife.”

  “I hope so. But let’s find that dog, Garrett.”

  “We are. We’re spreading our scent. He’ll come closer and we’ll hear him. Listen.”

  They took a few steps, then stopped as Garrett carefully examined every bush and tree, peering into the shadows in case anything moved.

  “How deep into the sinister woods should we go?” Jessie asked.

  Garrett chuckled. “Sinister. You’re such a wordsmith.”

  “What would you call them? Bright, cheery, and friendly?”

  “I call them home,” he assured her. “I could find my way in and out of here blindfolded. Let’s go over here.” He tugged her toward the creek bed. “If the water isn’t frozen, he might be getting a drink.”

  “Good idea. Unless the ghosts are thirsty, too.”

  “No ghosts, Jess.” He glanced at her, his heart shifting around as it always did when he looked into those green eyes. Jessica Jane Curtis came into his life to “expose” him to the world, and she’d done nothing but heal ancient wounds. “But I will not lose you or let you get hurt. Ever.”

  She dropped her head on his shoulder, but then suddenly jerked away. “Did you hear that?”

  He shook his head and made himself very still, closing his eyes to zero in on sound over every other sense.

  “Listen.” She inched back. “I heard something. That.”

  A chilly breeze rustled a thousand dry leaves, sending a few of them to the ground and a shiver over Jessie.

  “That was wind,” he assured her. “Not a dog.”

  “Or…” She wiggled her fingers in front of her face and made a woo-woo sound.

  He laughed again. “You’re ridiculous, and there are…”

  He heard it then, the sound of a twig cracking, then the brush of feet against leaves.

  “Oh boy,” she whispered, hugging herself a little. “Definitely Casper.”

  No, but it could be a bird, a deer, a possum…or even a sly fox.

  “This way.” He gestured toward the sound, shining the flashlight beam for her to follow. But in less than twenty steps, brush covered the path, making it impossible to navigate.

  Garrett pursed his lips and made a kissing noise, one most dogs would recognize as a call. “Here, little one,” he called loudly, snapping his fingers twice. “Come.”

  They both turned at another rustling sound.

  “There!” Jessie said, but whatever it was took off at the sound of her voice, cracking more branches and moving leaves. “Oh.” She put her hand over her mouth. “I scared it into the bushes.”

  “I’ll go in there. Don’t move.” He took a few steps forward, reaching into his pocket for gloves, not to protect him from the cold, but because he knew these shrubs had thistles and thorns.

  “Garrett!” Jessie called softly. “He’s back there.” She pointed in the complete other direction than where he was headed. Then another stirring of leaves where the original sound had been.

  They looked at each other in dismay. “I heard it,” Jessie said, pointing one way.

  “And I heard it over here,” Garrett replied, pointing the other.

  Then they both heard sounds in both directions, growing more distant.

  “I’m going with this one,” Garrett said, indicating the sound closest to him.

  “But that other one could be the dog.” She reached for the flashlight. “Let me look for one, and you look for the other.”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Garrett! You just said you could find your way through the woods blindfolded. Give me the flashlight.”

  So he had, and he could. He relented and handed over the flashlight. “Don’t go more than twenty feet, and come right back. Promise?”

  She nodded solemnly, taking the flashlight. “As if I want to be alone in the haunted forest.”

  “You have your phone?”

  She made a face. “I left my purse at the house.”

  “Here, take mine.” He dug in his pocket for it. “Or you could just stay right here, Jessie. I’ll find one animal and—”

  “The other will be gone. We have to find that dog,” she insisted. “I can do it.”

  “Okay,” he agreed. “Twenty feet, no more.”

  Once again, an animal snapped a twig on their right, while another one pushed some brush on their left. The one closer to Garrett sounded a little bigger. He had to get it out of here before it scared Jessie. With one last look, they turned and walked in opposite directions.

  Garrett moved by the light coming from Jessie’s direction, but in seconds, the woods were bathed in darkness. He followed instinct and the sound of an animal darting through the trees, skipping over the path, silent on the snow.

  He followed it left, then right, then round an old live oak he always climbed for Manhunt.

  He stopped to listen, not hearing anything…not even Jessie. Then the sound of a footfall behind him made him turn, but whatever it was shot off in Jessie’s direction.

  Garrett followed, stopping just to listen, then going deeper and deeper into the woods, a little out of familiar territory, but as long as the creek was on his left, he knew he could find his way back.

  Fifty paces, then a hundred, then a turn, then the path stopped and…so did he, listening for any sound, especially the soft trickle of water.

  Nothing.

  Was the creek frozen? He headed that way, but…damn it. He was nowhere near the creek. Nowhere near a tree, stone, clearing, or landmark he recognized. He turned around, without a phone or a light, and stared back in the direction he thought he’d come from as a cold, sickening fear worked up his spine.

  Jessie.

  “Jess!” he shouted, his voice breaking the silence, but there was no echo. Not with this much snow and this many trees. “Jessie! Flash your light, so I can find you.”

  But he didn’t hear a thing except the rustle of leaves.

  He was lost in his own neck of the woods, and the woman he loved was alone and terrified. His siblings, one in particular, would have a ball with this turn of events on a night they’d expected to be so very merry.

  Chapter Four

  Shane turned off the tractor and stared at the snow-covered road ahead. “You ready for an uphill hike in the snow, Miami girl?”

  “To find this dog?” Chloe was already scrambling off the tractor. “Of course. I have boots on.”

  “But no gloves.”

  She held up her bare hands. “I always forget them. And the scarf. There’s so many extra parts to winter.”

  Still seated, Shane looked down at her, affection pulling at his heart. “I’ll hold your hands, or we can run back and get you a pair. You know I never wear them.”

  “Because you can’t feel the dogs with them on,” she said, knowing exactly why he, a professional trainer, wouldn’t wear gloves. “So I don’t want them. I won’t be able to grab that little puppy when I catch sight of him.”

  He had to laugh, climbing down. “And I thought I wanted to win bad. My competitive nature must be contagious.”

  “Not a bit, but your dog-loving nature is.” She reached for his hand, tucking her fingers up his sleeve. “I will not sleep tonight if someone doesn’t bring that dog home, Shane.”

  “Someone will. Count on it.” He tugged her closer and kissed her lips long enough to make them a little warmer, then drew back and angled his head toward the snowy trail ahead. “Do you recognize this place?”

  She paused to look up the grade of the hill. “Is this what you guys call Mud Road?” She threw him a smile. “Of course I recognize it. The sight of our first real make-out session. Pretty sure some clothes came off.”

  He grinne
d back, remembering the day he got Chloe Somerset on an ATV and in her first mud bath. It might have been the moment he realized he loved this beautiful, thin-blooded neat freak.

  “’Fraid you’ll have to keep your top on tonight,” he said. “It’s freezing-ass cold. And there are probably ice patches, so we have to go up on foot this time.”

  “Of course, we don’t want to scare off the little pupper.” She rubbed her hands together, blowing on them. “I can’t stand the thought of that dog out here in the cold, Shane. Let’s go. We have to find little Jack Frost.”

  “Okay, no worries, I have a plan.” Taking her hand, they set off for the hill, staying in the center where the snow wasn’t much more than a crunchy dusting under their boots.

  “Tell me the plan,” she said as they hiked.

  “We get to the lookout at the top first, and keep our clothes on, even though if we weren’t looking for a lost dog…” He pulled her in for a sexy, slow kiss. “We could find creative ways to warm up.”

  “Mmm. And let someone else find the dog?”

  He considered that. “Might be worth losing.” He kissed her again, letting their tongues touch and heat up. “But who cares about winning, anyway?” He deepened the kiss, tasting mint and snow and this woman he loved so intensely.

  “Who are you?” she teased, pulling back to reluctantly end the contact they both enjoyed so much.

  “Me? You’re the former Florida germophobe out in the freezing cold ready to get snow and dirt all over you.” But the truth was, they’d both changed since falling in love.

  “I am Chloe Somerset…Kilcannon, as of April eighteenth.” She smiled up at him. “Your wife.”

  “Damn, that sounds good.” He slipped an arm around her and lowered for one more kiss, but she drew back.

  “Shane. The dog.”

  Oh yeah, right.

  “What is your plan?” she asked.

  “Okay, the plan. We go to the lookout, which is the highest point on all of Waterford Farm. The entire way up this hill, we’ll strategically drop treats to lead the dog to us.”

  “Treats. Genius.”

  He pulled out the bag and let a few tiny cookies fall. “Of course, because I’m the dog trainer. Garrett wants to rescue them all, so he’ll try to get the pooch to come to him. Liam wants to turn them into watchdogs, so he’ll use Jag to do his work. But I know how a dog thinks.”

  “Affection above all, then food and fun,” she said, reciting something she’d heard him say a hundred times with the dogs at Waterford. “Okay, give me some treats to strategically drop, too. But not too many. We want that dog to be hungry and follow us up to where he can’t get out of our sight.”

  He grinned at her. “You do pay attention when I train the dogs.”

  “Mostly I watch the trainer,” she admitted, blowing on her hands again. “God, when am I going to learn about gloves?”

  “I got you some for Christmas.”

  “Really? Too bad we didn’t do the present exchange first. I might have worn them. Anything else?”

  “Do you want me to ruin the surprise? Not a chance,” he said. “What did you get me?”

  “Coal, because you’re a bad boy.”

  “Which is what you love most about me.”

  “Maybe. And I’d love you more if you tell me what else you got me.”

  “No way.” He hugged her a little tighter. “I want it to be a surprise, so don’t keep asking. It’s good. You’ll love it.”

  “Give me a hint,” she urged.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “It’s lace, skimpy, and able to be removed with my teeth.”

  “You better not make me open that at the gift exchange, Shane Kilcannon.”

  “I have to. You know Gramma Finnie will take a picture and blog about it.”

  That just made her laugh again, a sound that rang as sweet as any Christmas carols. They walked without talking for a few minutes, listening to their steps on the snow and dirt, then they heard the bark of a distant dog, one that sounded pretty excited.

  “That was Jag,” he said, instantly recognizing the dog he’d spent several months helping Liam train.

  “He found Jack Frost?” She stopped and grabbed his arm.

  “He’ll call home if he has, then Gramma will call all of us or send out a group text. Just in case, let’s keep going.”

  “So you’ve done this before, I take it.”

  Shane laughed. “Find a lost dog? My whole life. Not on Christmas Eve, though. That’s a first.”

  “I bet your mom would not be happy about this interruption of her traditions.”

  “This one?” He shook his head, fighting a smile, thinking of his mother. “She’d be all over this one, trust me.”

  He felt Chloe’s gaze scrutinizing him.

  “What?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.

  “Nothing, it’s just that you’ve come so far with your grief.”

  He dropped a treat, slowing his steps, thinking about that statement. “You’ve helped,” he said simply. “I’m not mad at her at all anymore.”

  “Your dad is suffering, though.”

  “I know that. We all know that,” he said. “He thinks he’s doing such a magnificent job of covering it up, but Christmas was Mom’s big thing. This time of year has to be hard on him, especially when all three of his sons—well, the three that are home—have someone to share it with.”

  “But that makes him happy,” she said. “He’s the Dogfather, remember? The driving force behind love in this family.”

  She took a treat and gave him a questioning look. When he nodded, she dropped it like the two little lost kids in one of the fairy tales his mother used to read to him. “He needs love, too,” he said, the words surprising him even as they came out.

  “Then his kids ought to turn the tables on him and set him up with some women.”

  “Oh, no.” Shane shook his head vehemently. “He’s not going to remarry. That’ll never happen. He’ll never even date.”

  She choked softly. “He’s sixty and sexy. Not dead and done.”

  “Enough with the tourism phrases,” he said, trying for a light note but failing. “This isn’t a town you’re selling to America, it’s my dad.”

  She didn’t argue, but Shane knew Chloe well enough to know that didn’t mean the end of the discussion.

  But then the hill got so steep that she had to concentrate on each step, while she held his hand and worked to catch her breath, which came out in quick puffs of white clouds. Just as they reached the lookout, he put the treat bag on the snow, holding on to one. Once they were situated at the top of the hill, he pulled out his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed a call or text.

  “Do we still have a chance to win?” she asked.

  “I hope someone found him. Then we have a chance to…” He angled his head toward the ground. “Make snow angels.”

  Her mouth opened in a sweet little ‘o.’ “I’ve never done that.”

  “Sand angels in Miami?”

  “I have an idea, though.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “I was thinking of something.”

  “Yes?”

  “Why don’t you make fixing up the Dogfather a family competition? Then you’ll get into the idea.”

  For a split second, he considered it, then stomped that stupid idea away. “No way, I’m not—”

  Something small and dark darted in and out of his peripheral vision. Chloe must have seen it to, because she spun around. “Oh, what are we doing? We should be looking for that dog!”

  He didn’t answer, but she pointed to the left.

  “Over there!” She started after the tiny dark spot, which was too far away for Shane to see clearly. She pounced, sending up a cloud of snow, but Shane saw it shoot away, still out of the beam of his light and impossible to really see.

  “Go get him, Shane!”

  On instinct, he launched forward in the direction of the shadow, throwing himself down in a d
rift, only to come up empty-handed.

  “I see him.” Chloe whizzed by, down the hill a ways, but she slid onto her butt and let out a shriek as she took a sled ride minus the sled. “Oh! Go get him, Shane! Get him!”

  He’d have laughed if he wasn’t so damn focused on not looking like a fool in front of her, or not seeming to care about the dog. “I got him!”

  The animal disappeared under a bush about twenty feet away from where Chloe had stopped. Still holding one treat, Shane headed in that direction, pausing to give Chloe a hand up, then the two of them clomped through the snow toward the bush.

  “We got him now,” Chloe whispered.

  He very much doubted that, but he neared the bush, his treat extended, not entirely sure what he’d find under there, but he had a pretty good idea. “Come here…Jack. Come here, boy.”

  Under the bush, something moved, uncertain.

  “Shane.”

  “Shh. Shh. I got this.”

  “But Shane.”

  He shook his head, focused, ignoring the cold snow on the knees of his pants, one hundred percent intent on proving to her that he could do this.

  “Shane.”

  Shane crouched and slid his hand into the bush, palm up. As the tiny mouth pressed against his skin, he swooped in with his other hand and closed it around the little furry body, half expecting to be nipped.

  Victorious, he pulled out…a tiny brown and white bunny. “As I suspected…not Jack Frost. Jack Rabbit.”

  “Shane.” Chloe jabbed his arm, and he looked up to follow the beam of the flashlight she held.

  There, at the top of the hill, was an ornery-looking raccoon, munching contentedly on the treats they’d left behind and staring at them like they held his dessert.

  “Put the bunny in your pocket, Shane.”

  “What?” He glanced at her. “Why?”

  “To keep it safe from that predator.”

  “It’s a wild rabbit, Chloe, and while I appreciate your newfound love of all animals, this one should stay out here. It knows how to fend for itself.”

  She looked at him like he was out of his mind. “That raccoon will devour it.”

  “Probably not.” He gave the little fur ball a pet. “They know how to handle their environment.”