CONFESSIONAL 231
Judson, Dean (CEO: Juniper Ridge)
Yeah, I like to be in control. You say that like it’s a character flaw or something. I’m the oldest of six kids, for Christ’s sake. Someone had to be in charge. Our parents…I mean, they’re great and all, but—[mumbling]. Look, it was just a weird upbringing, that’s all. I don’t regret anything.
Not from my childhood, anyway.
“Are we almost done with this business plan, or should I order more coffee?” Lana spins her enameled tin mug on the table, the words “sex kitten” twirling above the photo of a vicious feline with fangs dripping blood.
Mari flips a page in the document and begins polishing her glasses on the hem of her T-shirt. Until six months ago, I’m not sure she’d ever owned a T-shirt.
“Does it look like we’re almost done?” She turns a page in Lana’s packet, catching her up to the rest of us. “We’re on page 68 out of 171.”
Lana rolls her eyes. “Duh,” she retorts, leaning on her favorite baby-of-the-family comeback. “I meant are we taking a break or something.”
Lauren peers over the top of her packet. “There is no break. Only numbers and pie charts and words like ‘market penetration’ and ‘ROI’ and ‘monetize’ until we shrivel up and die a lonely, miserable death.”
Cooper breaks into applause. “Very nice performance. Maybe work up a faint sheen of perspiration on the next take.”
Lauren picks up a pencil to throw at him, but Lana beats him to it, flinging her empty tin mug at his head. It’s a good shot, but Coop ducks, and the mug clangs off the corkboard behind him.
Mari sighs. “Is there any chance we can make it through one of these meetings without assaulting each other?”
“Nope.” Gabe swoops in from the coffee bar across the room, angling himself between Lauren and Mari with a fresh pot in one hand. “Refills for all. Except Lana, who’s minus a mug.”
Lauren elbows our baby sister. “Open up and he can pour it down your throat.”
Mari winces. “Can we please curtail the sexual innuendo?”
“Dude.” Gabe shakes his head. “You’re the one who went there, Mar. I’m just pouring coffee.”
“Tsk-tsk.” Lauren gives her sternest finger wag. “Now who’s the perv, Mari?”
Hearing my siblings bicker floods me with a bewildering surge of affection. I know I need to step in and bring us back on track, but I’m enjoying this pleasant, nostalgic buzz.
“Dean, where’s your mug?” Gabe holds up the pot as Lana scurries across the boardroom to reclaim hers.
Lauren rolls her eyes. “He probably shoved it up his ass to keep us from taking it.”
“Ha ha.” I pull it out of my briefcase and set it on the table. “Thanks, man.”
“No prob.”
Across the room, Colleen looks up from her laptop. I’m not sure if she’s working on coffee shop business, wildlife research, or hacking the dark web. Maybe all three. She catches my eye and gestures to the state-of-the-art espresso machine behind the bar. “Need more?” she mouths.
I shake my head and turn to the next page in the business plan. “Can we please get back on track? I have a meeting with Tia Nelson at Sun Daisy Organic Ranch.”
Cooper perks up. “Is she signing on to be part of the show?”
“Possibly.”
I don’t want to get his hopes up. He’s been nuts about organic farming since he got sober and committed to clean living. I should probably hand the whole thing off to him, but I hate to see him disappointed if Tia keeps declining. Sobriety’s a fragile thing, and I’d do anything to safeguard it for my brother.
“Let me know if you want help,” Cooper says.
“Thanks. We’re making progress.” The truth is it’s still a firm “hell no” from the testy rancher whose property adjoins ours. I glance at my watch, surprised to see it’s almost four. “Vanessa’s meeting me in the parking lot so we can drive over together.”
Coop takes a swig from his coffee mug. “Good luck.”
Gabe flips a few pages ahead in his packet. “Can we talk about this section on competing networks?”
“What about it?” I turn to the page, stifling my frustration at going out of order. “You still worried about the Voltan Network?”
Lauren sits up straighter. “I’m hearing more grapevine gossip. Their programming director isn’t thrilled we’re planning to go up against their top-rated show.”
Cooper kicks back in his chair holding a pen shaped like a hot dog. A vegan one, I presume. “Voltan’s ratings have been in a nosedive for months,” he says. “If it tanks, it won’t be our fault.”
“Tell that to the Voltan execs,” Gabe mutters, glancing at Lana. “You worked with Bob Voltan on that campaign a few years back, right?”
She makes a face and creases the corner of a page in her packet. “Spiteful asshole. He wanted me to help him figure out how to game the ratings. He didn’t give a damn about making good television.”
“But we do.” Lauren folds her arms over her chest. “And that’s why we’ll kick his ass.”
A niggle of worry moves through me. I’ve only met Bob Voltan a handful of times, but his network is unquestionably our biggest competitor. Lana’s right, he’s an asshole. Is he the kind of asshole who’d sabotage a competitor’s show?
Something dings across the room, and I glance up to see Colleen pushing her laptop aside and striding into the small kitchen off the coffee bar. Moments later, she emerges holding a plate piled high with muffins.
“Oh my God, you’re an angel.” Lana stands to take the stack of paper plates from her hand, divvying them up between us. “Are these the marionberry ones you made the other day?”
“Nah, this is huckleberry lemon,” she says. “Patti and I were out this morning checking the wildlife cams. We found a whole mess of ‘em right below the ridgeline.”
“Mmmph, this is amazing.” Mari bites right into one, while Lauren carefully cuts hers into perfect quarters. “So good.”
Cooper nods his approval around a mouthful of muffin. “You’re the most badass baker slash biologist slash internet hacker I’ve ever known.”
Colleen laughs and dusts crumbs off her hands. “Yeah, speaking of that, I’ve been battening down the hatches on your website. Whoever managed to hack their way in, they’ll have to work a lot harder next time.”
I try not to hang up on the idea that there might be a “next time,” or the fear that our prankster might have more on the agenda than making us look incompetent.
“Please make sure you bill us for your hours,” I remind Colleen as I grab the muffin Cooper’s handing me. “I know this is a big drain on your time while we’re waiting to hire a tech guru.”
“Nah, it’s just fun.” Colleen shrugs. “Of course, it’d be more fun to catch the son of a bitch. Whoever’s messing with you is damn good at covering his tracks.”
Lauren finishes chewing a mouthful of muffin. “Is there a reason we keep assuming it’s a guy? Women can be nasty, too.”
“True dat.” Cooper shoves half a muffin in his mouth and points at me. “Anything new on that bug in your office?”
I wait for Mari to ask him not to chew with his mouth full, but she’s focused on choosing another muffin. I shrug at Coop.
“Turns out it’s been there a while,” I tell him. “That’s what the PI says. The battery’s long dead, and it’s a model they haven’t made for years, so—”
“So the cult people were bugging each other?” Lana asks.
“Or the Feds were bugging them,” Lauren suggests.
“You’re all kinda bugging me.” Cooper helps himself to another muffin.
Mari ignores him and sips her tea. “Or the cult leader’s scorned mistress was gathering intel for his wife. There are about a million possibilities for how people might mistrust each other, and most of them are probably justified.”
We all take a moment to process that. All except Gabe, the lone Judson who’s happily married. He’s smiling and tapping something on his phone. Probably sexting his wife.
“How’s Vanessa settling in?”
Mari’s question jolts me from my X-rated thoughts and onto…okay, more like R-rated thoughts. Is it wrong that I haven’t stopped thinking about her slick, soft body pressed against mine? It’s been a few days since the waterslide, and we’ve been nothing but professional since then. Still, my brain won’t stop flickering with images of her in that red swimsuit.
“She picked the cabin right down from me,” Lana supplies, since I’m too lost in thought to answer. “The one with the red door and the nice back deck and those cute little flower boxes.”
“Oh, that’s a nice one.” Lauren nibbles the edge of her muffin. “I like her, too. She’s got spunk.”
Mari folds her hands on the table. “Unless it’s connected to someone’s job, we should refrain from personal descriptions of employees in a public setting.”
Gabe surveys the room. “Is this public? I mean, we own the place.”
“I only said she had spunk,” Lauren points out. “Personal would be if I said I’d kill to have an ass like hers.”
“Right?” Lana picks up her mug. “She must do a zillion lunges a day.”
Lauren looks thoughtful. “I wonder who does her hair. We should see about having them open a salon here.”
Cooper shakes his head and turns back to me. “Anything to report on the postcard?”
That gets Mari’s attention. “What postcard?”
Shit. I meant to tell the others, but…okay, maybe I didn’t. “It showed up a few days ago. One side had this weird glamour shot of Vanessa as a teenager, and the other warned us against hiring her.”
Lauren’s brow furrows. “You think maybe it’s a former boss or something? Someone pissed that we hired her away?”
The thought had crossed my mind, but I shake my head. “I don’t know what to think. I’ve asked Lieutenant Lovelin to come in and brief us sometime this week. It might help to have someone laying out all the pieces and going over them with us.”
Cooper grins. “I approve of this plan.”
Lauren rolls her eyes. “Because Lieutenant Lovelin is smart and badass and freakin’ gorgeous.”
Mari looks pained. “Can we please not discuss prospective employees like pieces of meat?”
“Okay, but real quick.” Lauren holds up her hand. “Anyone else have a massive girl crush on Vanessa?”
“Yo.” Across the room, Colleen holds up her hand and grins. “Don’t tell my wife.”
Lana laughs and flicks a muffin crumb off the table. “Your wife adores her, too. We ran into Patti when I was giving Vanessa the tour.”
Lauren ignores them to give me a look I can only describe as “calculating.” She drums her fingers on the edge of her plate and stares me down. “Our girl crushes will remain unrequited, since she’s clearly straight.” She holds her hand up to Mari. “I know, I know—we’re not discussing employees’ sexual orientation. I’m just pointing out that you could power a generator on the electricity zapping around between Dean and Vanessa.”
“Really?” Lana bounces a little in her chair. “Think she’s got the magic touch to yank the stick out of his butt?”
“Hello, I’m right here.” I glare at them all before turning to Mari. “Anyway, isn’t it against company policy for co-workers to fraternize or something?”
Mari stares at me like I’ve got earthworms coming out my ears. “Of course not. That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it? For people to pair up in mutually-satisfying yet highly-entertaining demonstrations of personal connection.”
“Mmm, that’ll sound good in teaser reels.” Lauren pops a bite of muffin in her mouth.
Mari gives her a withering look. “How are those interviews coming along for building contractors?”
A little fire flickers out of Lauren’s eyes. “Fine. I’m working on it.”
No one says anything, since we all know Lauren’s history. She used to be in a hot and heavy relationship with Nick Armbrust, one of the top building contractors in the country. There’s no way she wants to hire him to build our new cabins, and no way we’re not hiring him, since he’s the best. It’s driving her nuts, and the urge to jump in and save my sister is overwhelming.
But I’ve got bigger issues on my plate. “Look, maybe we should call it a day.” I push back in my chair and glance at my watch. “We can come back to this tomorrow, okay?”
“Tell Vanessa hi for me,” Lana says, flipping blond hair out of her eyes. “Give her a great big ol’ kiss.”
Lauren smirks. “Oh, he almost did. We got it on video and everything.”
I make a beeline for the door with Lana’s delighted shriek echoing in my ears. Even Cooper holds up his hand for a high-five as I pass by on my way to the door. I ignore him because (a) I am definitely not hooking up with Vanessa Vincent, and (b) even if I were—which I’m not—it would hardly be something to celebrate. For crying out loud, could things get more complicated?
She did feel amazing in my arms, though. The way her body molded against mine on the waterslide or in the backseat of her car or—
“Hey!” Vanessa steps out from behind a pillar next to the lodge and slips on her sunglasses. “Beautiful day, huh?”
“Yeah, not bad.” I pull out my own sunglasses, aware that things might go better if we’re not making eye contact. Maybe that’s our problem. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re not late.” She glances at her watch. “Okay, you’re two minutes late.” She folds her arms over her chest and glares. “Goddammit, Dean.”
I laugh and fall into step beside her as we head for the parking lot. “How about I drive? That way you can flip through the prospectus for Sun Daisy Organics on our way over.”
“She sent us a prospectus? That’s a good sign.”
“Maybe.” I pull the printed packet out of my briefcase and hand it to her. “She’s still not budging on being part of the show.”
“Did she share her objections?”
I shrug. “Reality TV is the devil. Wealthy developers are worse than the devil. We’re raping the land and not using it for its intended purposes. Take your pick.”
“She sounds like a peach.”
“She’s actually really cool.” It’s the main reason we’d love to have her on Fresh Start at Juniper Ridge. That, and her farm generates gobs of amazing meats and produce.
Vanessa walks around to the other side of my truck and gets in. She’s flipping through pages before I start the engine. “Everything’s organic, huh? Even the meats she raises.”
“Yep. For a farm that size, they’ve got amazing yield.”
She turns a page, looking thoughtful. “Maybe there’s more to her animosity than you think.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugs and keeps scanning the page. “Maybe she wanted to buy the BONK compound before you swooped in.”
“The thought crossed my mind.” I’m not sure who we bid against when the property came up for sale, but it’s possible Tia wanted to expand her farm. “Sorry, I’ll shut up and let you read.”
Vanessa gives a mock salute and keeps flipping. I try to keep my eyes on the road, on the craggy hills of red basalt in the distance or the snow-capped mountains with carpets of grassy meadow laid out like carpets at their doorstep.
But I keep catching myself glancing at Vanessa, admiring the side of her face. Her dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a red chambray shirt knotted at the waist and a black tank top beneath. She looks damn good in red. All fire and passion and—
“So, Tia’s looking to expand distribution.” She looks up and catches me staring. “Even if she won’t join the show, it’s possible she’ll sell her products directly to us.”
“That’s not ideal.” At the risk of sounding like a control-freak, I continue. “We’re trying to stay self-contained, so having an on-site farm dedicated to our needs would be the best option.”
“Where does she distribute now?”
“Mostly farmers’ markets and organic grocery stores. I just need to convince her she stands to make a lot more money with us.”
“Money’s not everything.” She says it mildly, but there’s an undercurrent of tension in her voice.
“True. But it really would be a win-win for everyone. She keeps her land but becomes our exclusive supplier for fresh meats and produce.”
“Makes sense.” From the corner of my eye, I see her rest the pages across her knees. “Well, hopefully we can persuade her.”
We’re approaching the turnoff to Tia’s ranch, so I fix my eyes on the road. Vanessa looks up from her packet as we bump onto the gravel road. “Oh! What a great barn. It looks like something on a postcard.” She bites her lip, and I wonder if she’s thinking about the other postcard. The one with her picture on it. “How long has she had this place?”
“The ranch has been in her family for generations,” I say. “Tia’s been running it alone for a few years.”
“Nice.” She points out the window at the tidy rows of plants whizzing past. “That must be potatoes. Oh, and cabbage.”
“Beats me. But yeah, I know she grows that stuff.” We’re approaching Tia’s house, but I drive on past and head for the barn. “She wanted to meet us out here. Said she’s expecting a new intake.”
“Intake?”
“She rehabilitates dogs,” I explain as I park the truck. “Injured or sick or stray. I guess she’s some kind of dog whisperer.”
“Dogs.” Vanessa’s voice goes soft and wistful, and I remember what she said about wanting one.
“You’ve never had a dog?”
She shakes her head. “My sister and I used to beg for one, but our mom said no.”
I kill the engine and pocket the keys. “What about cats? Or hamsters or bunnies or—”
“Nope, nothing.” She gives a sad little shrug. “We had this fat orange goldfish once. I won it at a carnival, and Val and I got so excited. We named him Cheeto and built this whole fairyland castle for him in an aquarium.”
The furrow between her brows makes me almost afraid to ask. “What happened to Cheeto?”
She frowns and spins the ring on her pinky finger. “Our mom said the water smelled bad. She wanted us to flush him down the toilet, but I convinced her to let me give him to the neighbor.”
“Jesus.” Her mom sounds like a piece of work. “We didn’t have a ton of pets growing up, but we did have two cats. Oh, and Lana had a hamster.”
That sparks some light in her eyes. “Names?”
“Puma Thurman and Catrick Swayze for the cats.” I grin when she busts out laughing. “Lauren and Lana fought for weeks over those names.”
“And the hamster?”
“Neil Patrick Hamster,” I tell her. “That was Lana.”
“How come Lana and Lauren got to name all the pets?” she asked. “Mari’s between them in age, right?”
Leave it to Vanessa to zero in on this family quirk. “For some reason, Lauren and Lana have always been super-close. Mari—Mari’s just been—” I fumble for the right word but can’t come up with it.
“In the middle?” Vanessa fiddles with the end of her ponytail. “I’ve heard that’s sometimes the case with middle kids. I mean, I know there are six of you, but—”
“Yeah, Mari’s a classic middle kid.” I’m not sure I really thought about this before now. “Lauren’s the oldest girl, and Lana’s the youngest kid period. Gabe and Coop and I were always just kinda there, but it was Lauren and Lana who had this special bond.”
I’ve never considered if that bugged the shit out of Mari. My brothers and I, we pissed each other off in equal measure, but I never felt like any two of us were tighter than the other two.
“You’re definitely a classic oldest child.” Vanessa’s voice brings me back to the conversation. “I’d have guessed it even if I didn’t know.”
“How do you mean?”
“Control-freak.” She grins. “I have a big brother.”
“No kidding?” I don’t remember learning that in her background check.
“He’s quite a bit older. Almost ten years, so we weren’t super-tight growing up.”
“And let me guess,” I say. “You’re older than your twin?”
“Correct.” She grins and pops open her door. “Five minutes and twenty-three seconds, thank you very much. If Val had been just two minutes later, she’d have been born after midnight and we’d have had different birthdays.”
I come around the truck to join her, and we walk together along the dust-blanketed path to the barn. “Cooper and I have birthdays only three days apart, but there’s six years separating us.”
That used to feel weird when we were kids, but our mom always made sure we got separate cakes and parties with all our friends. That we were made to feel special.
A few months after Andrea and I got engaged, she threw a huge surprise birthday party for Coop and me. Cooper had a blast and landed in the tabloids for public drunkenness. I worked late and spoiled the whole thing, promising I’d be home in an hour, then two hours, then three.
Eventually, Andrea gave up on me. Not just the party, but all of it.
I can’t say I blame her.
We’ve reached the door of the barn now, so I shake myself out of that dark place and knock on the door with Vanessa behind me. I can hear rustling inside and the bleating of sheep or goats or whatever the hell makes that noise.
Then Tia Nelson swings into the doorway wiping her hands on her jeans. Her dark hair is braided off to the side, and she smiles warmly when she sees us. “Good timing, I was just finishing up feeding.”
Vanessa steps forward, eyes saucer-wide. “What are you feeding?”
Tia laughs and sticks her hand out, and Vanessa shakes it automatically. “Chickens, cows, goats, you name it. I’m Tia. Tia Nelson.”
“Vanessa Vincent. I’d love to see your animals.”
That earns an even bigger smile from Tia, who is damn serious about every living thing on this ranch. “Come on.” She turns, dark braid swinging. “Most everyone’s outside right now, but I’ll give you a barn tour first.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Vanessa and I follow, hustling to keep up with the quick stride of Tia’s dirt-caked boots. “I just finished feeding most of the livestock,” she calls over her shoulder. “Maybe you want to help with the dogs?”
“Yes, please.” Vanessa flashes me a celebratory fist pump, and I laugh in spite of myself. “I know we’re here to talk crop yield and livestock units, but this is all part of it, right?”
“Absolutely.” Tia nudges a door with her hip, leading us past a pen filled with the tiniest goats I’ve ever seen. “Those are Nigerian Dwarf goats,” she says. “Very friendly.”
Vanessa gasps. “They’re so cute.”
“They produce a huge volume of milk for their size.” Tia stoops to scratch a tan and white goat behind the ears. “We’re making cheese next week if you’d like to come watch.”
“I’d love that.” Vanessa’s bright cheer makes it obvious she really means it.
“Great.” Tia beams. “I love showing off the farm to folks who really have an interest.”
“Oh, I do.” Vanessa leans in and rubs a little black and white goat between its nub antlers. “You have Saanen, LaMancha, and Toggenburgs as well, right?”
Tia doesn’t mask her surprise. “You’ve done your homework.”
“Always,” Vanessa says, and it’s all I can do not to high-five her. “Sounds like there’s been a high demand lately for the Saanens.”
“It’s the high milk yield with low butterfat content.” Tia turns and keeps walking, pausing to stroke the neck of a shaggy donkey. “The health food junkies can’t get enough of it.”
She leads us down another row of stalls. This section of the barn is quieter and smells different. Straw crunches underfoot, and a cow moos somewhere in the distance. “Roughneck is down here. We’ve been slowly introducing him to people so he’s ready for adoption. You can help feed him.”
“Roughneck?” Vanessa stops walking as Tia halts in front of a pen.
“He came in as a stray a few months ago,” Tia says. “He’d been on his own a couple years with this ratty old mesh collar embedded in his neck.”
Vanessa gasps. “What? How?”
There’s a flash of fury in Tia’s eyes. “Someone put the collar on him as a pup and then abandoned him.”
“That’s awful.” Vanessa’s blinking hard, and my urge to comfort her is overwhelming. “People can be so cruel.”
“It was pretty infected by the time we got him.” Tia reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a dish that’s already filled with kibble. “I called in a favor with a vet who operated and got him fixed up.”
“Thank God.” Vanessa peers over the edge of the stall, and I step up beside her to look. A brown and black mutt—some kind of herding mix, I think—peers back at us with liquid brown eyes. The fur around his neck is missing in an odd, two-inch wide band, a bald patch that looks like a collar. He lifts one edge of his lip to show a tidy row of sharp teeth. He's not growling, and while I don’t know much about dogs, it looks more like a smile than a snarl.
“He’s not a biter, right?” I ask.
“Not unless you bite him first.” Tia unlatches the stall door. “He was pretty skittish the first couple weeks. Air-snapped anytime we got close enough to feed him or check his wounds, but he never made contact. He’s practically a teddy bear now.”
The teddy bear gives a tentative tail thump and eyes us warily. He looks from Tia to me and pauses, tail tucking slightly. Then his gaze shifts to Vanessa.
“Oh, now there’s a tail wag.” Tia laughs and surveys Vanessa. “He likes you.”
It’s true; the dog is on his feet, tail wagging fiercely as he approaches Vanessa. He comes forward and puts his paws up on the edge of the stall, sniffing the air around her.
Vanessa steps closer, holding out a hand. “Maybe I look like someone he used to know?”
“Could be. Here.” Tia hands her the food bowl. “He’s not a runner. Just ease in gently. No quick movements. Low and slow, that’s the key.”
For someone who’s never had a dog, Vanessa seems to know just what to do. She slips through the stall door, moving like her boots are dragging through honey. She’s murmuring words I can’t understand, but there’s something soothing about them.
“Hey, buddy.” She holds out her hand, and Roughneck sniffs it, then gives a gentle lick.
Vanessa laughs, and the dog jumps, then skitters back to lick her again. “It’s okay,” she soothes. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
The dog cocks his head, and I swear to God he understands her. Tail wagging again, he sets to work giving her arm a thorough tongue bath. Vanessa laughs and scratches behind his ear with her other hand.
“How did you rehab him?” Vanessa asks. “He’s so tame for a dog who ran wild for years.”
“Reading was a big part of it,” Tia says.
“Reading?” I stare at Tia, pretty sure I’ve heard wrong. “What, like books?”
“Yep.” Tia smiles. “I sat in his pen for hours, day after day, reading pages of whatever books I had on hand. Eventually, he got used to my voice. Then he got used to the idea that people weren’t evil and might not hurt him. Also, that we had food.”
Vanessa’s stroking the dog’s head, laughing when he licks her face. “So you’re a literary buff, eh boy?”
The smile on Tia’s face isn’t one I’ve seen before. Usually she’s glaring and crossing her arms over her chest, insisting there’s no way in hell she’ll partner with us. “You’re a natural,” Tia says to Vanessa. “You must be a dog person.”
“I always wanted to be.” Vanessa sets the bowl in the straw, then smooths her palm down the dog’s smooth back. “This guy is a sweetheart.”
Tia leans on the edge of the stall door. “He’s never been like this with anyone else.”
“I’m not surprised,” I tell her. There’s a gentle energy to Vanessa, a presence that leaves me feeling like I’ve known her forever. Roughneck’s no dummy. He must sense it, too.
“There you go,” Vanessa coos as the dog starts to eat. “That’s a good boy. Yummy stuff, huh?”
Roughneck wags his stump of a tail but doesn’t lift his snout from the bowl. I’m not even sure he’s chewing. He’s just inhaling the kibble, hoovering it up until the stainless-steel surface is bare. Licking the last few crumbs, he pops his head up and grins. I swear to God, that’s what it looks like.
“Good boy.” Vanessa sits down in the straw and uses both hands to scratch behind his ears.
The dog gives a groan of pleasure and heaves himself into her lap. He must weigh eighty pounds, and Vanessa topples laughing onto her back as Roughneck licks her face.
Tia turns and looks at me. “Looks like maybe you two are going home with a dog.”
“What?” I glance at Vanessa, who’s too busy soaking up dog kisses to realize Tia assumes we’re a couple. “Oh, we’re not—”
“I love this guy!” Vanessa sits up, still laughing as she pulls bits of straw from her hair. “Is this what they mean by love at first sight?”
My breath snags in my throat as I stand there on the outside of the stall, watching Vanessa light up the whole barn. “Yeah,” I murmur. “Could be.”