Looks like Mary Mulligan’s dachshund had another seizure,” Rafe said that evening, riding shotgun to Randall Ames, his good friend and partner for the night, as they took the EMS vehicle to a call.
“And you know what that means,” Randy said.
“Man, I am not crawling under her porch to get that dog again,” Rafe said. “It’s your turn.”
“I’m just getting over bronchitis,” Randy said, giving a pathetic cough. “See?” The windshield wipers seemed to squeak in agreement as they swished rapidly back and forth. It was a cold, damp night, the rain on the verge of freezing into sleet.
“No,” Rafe said. “Just no. We flip for it. Come on, man, I got all muddy dragging that dog out of there the last time.”
“Yeah, but you live a lot closer to the station than I do. You can change your clothes easier. Plus, you don’t want me to catch pneumonia, do you?”
“Well, I may not care all that much but I’m sure Janis does,” Rafe said. Randy had been seeing someone for a couple of weeks now, and all he did was talk about her.
“Jan-et,” Randy said. “Janet. Get it right, dude.”
“Sorry.” For a long time, Randy was hung up on Rafe’s sister Gabby, who’d just married Cade Marshall, an author and English professor at the local college. But Rafe suspected that Randy really liked Jan-et, based on the number of times he’d corrected Rafe on the pronunciation of her name.
Rafe was happy for him, but it also made him feel that the last of his good friends were off the market. First Colton, the most confirmed bachelor he knew, fell for Rafe’s older sister Sara, and now Randy…Who would be next?
Not him. Definitely not him.
An image of Kaitlyn entered his mind, poring over that newspaper clipping. She’d looked so…earnest. He felt like he’d let her down in a million ways. He hated the way he’d left things with her. What had she said?
I don’t expect anything from you. Why should she? He’d made her think he didn’t remember what had happened between them. If only he could tell her he remembered everything.
That night in the cabin—no, not a night, just moments, really—were forbidden, stolen, frantic—and mind-blowingly amazing. Before Rafe could relive the memory for the thousandth time, he shut it down.
Randy hit him playfully on the arm. “You’re awfully quiet. Who’re you thinking about?”
That brought Rafe back to reality. “Just a muddy wet dog that you’re going to rescue while I drink tea with Mary.”
At the top of the stairs, Randy dug into his pocket and produced a quarter. “Let’s do this fair and square. Heads or tails?”
“Heads,” Rafe said, watching Randy toss the coin and slap it on his forearm.
Randy looked from the coin to Rafe, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, not looking sorry at all.
Rafe didn’t have a chance to say anything back because just then the door opened, and a sweet gray-haired woman in her late seventies answered, wringing her hands in distress. “Come in, boys. Georgie had a seizure and barfed all over the kitchen floor. I sat with him for a while until he started to come to again. Then I went to get him a drink of water. And that was when he disappeared.”
“Disappeared,” Rafe asked, looking around as she led them into the kitchen. Was it okay to hope that this time Georgie had “disappeared” somewhere in the nice warm house instead of outside in the weather from hell?
“I was coming back from taking out the garbage when it happened and I must’ve left the back door open a crack. Anyway, I can’t find him! I’ve been calling and calling.” She stepped out onto the tiny porch outside the back door. Rain blew in through the kitchen door. It was nasty out there. “George!” she called. “Georgie!”
No answer. Rafe pulled up his hood and walked onto the back porch, the wind blowing ice-cold rain into his face. He shined his flashlight into the backyard, but no dog in sight. “Why don’t you go back inside, Mrs. M.?” Rafe said.
“He’s probably in his special hiding place,” Mary said.
Right. His special hiding place in the muck under the porch, no doubt. Rafe hoped he had a clean uniform at home, because he was going to need it—and a hot shower—by the time this was over.
“We could stay warm in here and have tea,” Randy said to Mary. “And I could tell you about my new girlfriend.”
Rafe rolled his eyes and continued checking out the backyard. “Thanks, Randy, dear,” Mrs. Mulligan said, “but I’m too nervous to stay inside.” She gave him a knowing smile. “And do you mean Janet? She’s a lovely girl. You should stop by the statue one day and let me take your picture.”
Mrs. Mulligan was the official Angel Falls photographer, and after years of taking pictures of couples at the falls, he supposed he couldn’t fault her for believing in their local legend. It still amazed him how many people believed getting their picture taken in front of the big bronze angel statue on the bridge and dropping a coin into the falls would guarantee them true love forever.
As if. Rafe snorted. The legend was a clever way to fill the town’s coffers, in his opinion.
Rafe walked down a set of wooden stairs and shined his flashlight under the porch. There was a large hole underneath one of the latticework panels where some animal had clearly been trying to dig his way under.
“I’m not strong enough to get those wood panels off,” Mary said from the top of the steps. “That’s why I called. I know it’s an awful night to come out.”
Awful is right, Rafe thought as rain dripped from the porch roof down his neck. “Hey, we’re used to it. Don’t you worry, Mrs. M.” Rafe turned to Randy, who was behind him, and dropped his voice. “Why don’t you get her to go into the house? I’ll look under there.”
“I heard that,” Mrs. Mulligan said. “I’m not budging until we find him.”
“You’re not going to be of any help to George if you get sick, right?” Rafe said. “I’ll let you know as soon as I see anything.”
Rain pelted his face, but he managed to pull the wood panel off and squatted down, shining his flashlight under the porch.
A sweep of the space revealed puddles of water, lots of dead leaves, and…one frightened-looking dachshund. Shivering in the far back corner.
“Found him,” Rafe called.
“Oh, thank God,” Mary said. “How’s he look?”
“A little scared, but okay.”
“Oh, I’m so glad. Can you get him to come?”
“George, buddy,” Rafe said in his calmest voice. “It is one miserable night to be wanting some alone time.” Suddenly Rafe choked and drew his hoodie up over his nose. “Wow, something really smells under here,” he said.
The dog whined and went belly and ears down, causing Rafe to chuckle. “Sorry to insult you, George. I know you’re having a bad day.”
“Rafe?” Mary said. “How’s it going down there?”
Not good. George wouldn’t budge. “Um, he’s not really wanting to come. Any suggestions?”
“He’s always so confused after he has a seizure.”
Rafe edged a little closer, talking more nonsense to the dog. “Your mama’s waiting with all the dog treats you can handle. Want a biscuit? Cookie?” Rafe patted his pockets. Sometimes he actually carried dog treats, but right now they were empty. “C’mon, buddy. It’s really gross under here. Come with Uncle Rafe.”
George was still not having it.
“You and I are going to have a talk,” Rafe said as he squatted at the entrance of the crawl space. “Now, don’t you want to go back inside and climb into your nice warm bed? Come on, now.” Then suddenly he shuddered and tried to flip his jacket collar up as rain rolled straight down his neck.
That was the final straw, making Rafe do what he did not want to do—crawl toward the dog on his hands and knees. He sloshed through puddles of icy water and mud until he finally managed to grab hold of the dog by the collar. All Rafe’s irritation faded when he discovered the dog was shaking so hard his teeth were rattling. “It’s okay, Georgie, I got you,” he crooned, petting the dog’s back.
“Rafe?” Mary called from somewhere over him, her voice cracking. “Have you got him?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rafe said, trying not to breathe through his nose. Or let go of the muddy, slippery dog.
“Oh, I’m so relieved,” Mary said. “How is he, Rafe? Are you coming up now?”
“Got him. Be up in just a minute.”
Rafe felt Mary holding her breath. After a long pause, she finally spoke again. “By the way, I saw Kaitlyn the other day.”
Rafe nearly stopped in his commando-crawl tracks.
“Kaitlyn Barnes?”
“Why, yes, your Kaitlyn, of course. We were talking about how nice you looked on that poster.”
Rafe was about to protest, but she kept on talking. “And poor thing, she was so nauseated. I could tell she was doing her best to pretend she was fine, but she brought me a bowl of soup with my tea, and I could tell the smell was really getting to her.”
Had Kaitlyn been ill? He thought back to their discussion the other night. She had looked thin, and she’d had circles under her eyes.
“Funny, but the only time I remember odors bothering me like that was when I was expecting.”
The little wiener dog slipped right through Rafe’s hands and landed back in the mud with a splash. “Sorry, George,” he said, getting a better grip on the dog and his own emotions.
Expecting? Kaitlyn? Uninvited images flashed through his mind of the night of the wedding. He’d started to walk her back to her cabin, but it had been pouring and they’d ended up back at his instead. They’d been talking and laughing and then suddenly the lights had gone out. He’d reached for her out of instinct—but once he touched her, he couldn’t seem to stop.
It was as if all the denying, all the times he’d told himself no, not her, never her, had been cut loose, and for that brief time neither of them were able to deny what they’d been fighting all along.
Still, they’d used protection. She was on the pill and he’d used a condom. So if she was pregnant…
His heart suddenly took a plunge and an icy feeling spread through him that had nothing to do with the frigid conditions under the porch. Steve. The high school football coach she’d dated up until last year, who made no secret he wanted her back. Who always seemed to be a little jealous and irritated at Rafe because he and Kaitlyn had hung out so much together after she and Steve broke up.
“Of course, that nice Steve Connolly has been stopping by the Bean a lot lately. Why, when I was in there the other day he’d brought her a bouquet of red roses for her birthday. And it isn’t even until next week.”
Rafe scowled, and not just because he knew she preferred daisies. Could she have gotten back together with Steve? Who would blame her, after Rafe had pulled away and had done his best to avoid her?
The dog barked, and Rafe looked up to see that he was nearly across the width of the crawl space. He told himself to calm the hell down and to stop letting his imagination run wild. If he listened to the speculation of every neighbor in this town who thought they knew everyone’s business, where would he be? Maybe Kaitlyn was fighting the flu. It was going around town. No need to jump to crazy conclusions.
From the far corner of the crawl space came a noise so faint Rafe thought he’d imagined it. Sort of a cross between a squeak and a cry. Great, now that he was worked up over Kaitlyn, he was hearing things.
He kept slogging along with the dog, who was now squirming like a greased pig in his arms. He heard another noise. This time it was a whimper.
He called to Randy through the deck slats above his head. “Hey, Rambo, come down here, okay?”
He thought Randy was going to give him grief for making him come outside, but no questions asked, he soon came clattering down the stairs. That’s what made them such good partners.
Rafe handed him the dog. “Ask Mary where her washtub is. I’ll be right up.”
Randy scanned his face. “You need help?”
Rafe shook his head and pointed behind him with his thumb. “There’s something else in there. Whatever it is, it’s whimpering.”
Randy took the muddy dog and Rafe reentered the dark space. Another noise from the back corner made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. He flashed his light systematically over the entire rectangular area. Leaves. Spiderwebs. Dirt—correction, make that mud.
Suddenly his light caught the red flash of two retinas. Tiny, close-together retinas. Whatever it was, it was small.
He startled, and almost lost his balance, but managed to flash the beam back into the corner. “Holy…what the…Are you a…” He’d had encounters with bats before, and he knew rabies was a concern with them and any wild animal. And a raccoon could be just as dangerous. Suddenly out of the piled-up leaves came a…
“Dog?”
He ventured a few steps closer to examine the bundle of mud with eyes. It was whining pathetically and shivering with cold.
This was no dog. It was a fricking puppy.
“Oh man. You’ve got to be kidding. Who would—”
His brain stuttered, filled with rage and wonder at the same time. He’d seen a lot of crazy things as a firefighter, but…who would abandon a puppy? Leave him to perish in this weather? Or was it possible the animal escaped from somewhere…someone’s house?
Rafe lifted the little bundle and held it against his chest. It was…tiny. Quivering. Freezing cold. The animal gave him a look that seemed to say, I’m not real sure I trust you, but you’re the best I’ve got, then went still in Rafe’s arms.
“Hey, now. Don’t give up the fight. Because you’re in luck. I’m a firefighter. I’ve got resources. Come on, pup.”
The puppy felt limp in his arms, and Rafe felt a desperation cut through him. “No giving up. Okay, boy? Or girl. You’re too muddy to tell.”
All he knew was it was small and helpless and he had to warm it up and…and get it somewhere. Where it could be checked over and looked at and…saved. Nobody, human or animal, was going to die on his watch.
Finally he was back to where he’d entered the crawl space. He clutched the puppy close and crawled through, then ran back up the stairs.
Mary was waiting for him in the kitchen, beside her cellar door. “Randy took Georgie down for a bath. And—oh my goodness! What on earth—” She ran over, grabbing a towel from a kitchen drawer on the way and examining the dog as she rubbed it down.
The dog didn’t fight, but it was awake, and stared at Mary, wide-eyed.
“Look at the paws on you,” Mary crooned. “Big paws. And look at the black coat and the white snout and the patches of gold on your legs…Who on earth would abandon a purebred?”
Rafe frowned as he readjusted the puppy, now wrapped in the kitchen towel. It poked its head out and cast him a baleful look. “A purebred what?”
“This is a Bernese mountain dog,” Mary pronounced, wiping off its head. The dog shook its head, splattering Rafe with more mud. Not that it mattered now. “They can be quite expensive.”
Just then Randy came up from the basement, Georgie bounding up the stairs with him, showing off his new clean self. George stopped in front of Rafe to sniff at the puppy. “Hey, George,” Rafe said, bending down to pat him on the head. “You did good.” To Mary, he said, “George saved this little guy.”
“He must’ve known the puppy was under the porch,” she said, looking quite proud.
When they finally left Mary’s house a little while later, Georgie was happily curled up in a blanket by the fireplace. Which is exactly what Rafe would have liked to do, but he had a whole night of work ahead of him.
“What are we going to do with our little friend?” Randy asked. “Want to take him back to the station?”
“I think we should drop him off at the vet hospital,” Rafe said. He had no idea how long the animal had been out in the cold. “Then get back to work.”
As Rafe walked out to their vehicle, the dog burrowed against him, into his warmth, tucking his head into the inside of Rafe’s jacket.
“Aw, look at that,” Randy said, laughing. “He likes you.”
That made Rafe shake his head. Cute as can be, but not for him.
“Hey, he’s probably abandoned or something, you think?” Randy asked. “Maybe you can keep him. Kaitlyn likes dogs, doesn’t she?” Randy asked.
Frowning, Rafe got in. Oh, Kaitlyn liked animals, all right. Like an entire litter of kittens that decided to be born in back of the Bean behind the trash dumpster. She’d fed them every three hours for a month and had wanted to keep all of them. “Kaitlyn and I are not together,” he said. No Kaitlyn. No dog.
Thinking about not wanting Kaitlyn instantly brought back thoughts of her in full force. As he started the car and turned on the wipers, he hoped it was a hellishly busy night to get him out of his head and distract him from wondering about Kaitlyn. Pregnant. Kaitlyn pregnant.
Nah, she couldn’t be. Yet Rafe had to admit that if Mrs. M. was right, he’d gotten exactly what he’d asked for. He deserved Kaitlyn moving on without him.
* * *
The next morning, Rafe decided to stop by the vet’s office on his way home to check on the dog, which they’d learned last night, after all the mud was finally cleaned away, was a he. “Hey, Dr. J.,” he said, walking into the waiting room. Dr. Jasmine Drake looked up from her paperwork and smiled. Rafe had known her since he was a kid and his family used to bring their Labrador retriever mix in for checkups.
“Good morning, Rafe,” Jazz said. “On your way home to bed?”
Rafe nodded. “I was just wondering how the puppy’s doing.” Not that he wanted a dog at all. But he was curious. Where had it come from? How had it ended up in the mud under somebody’s porch?
She draped a stethoscope around her neck and left the desk. “Why don’t you come back and see him?”
Barks and yips emanated from the back room even before she opened the door. They passed three dogs in crates: a Chihuahua, a bichon, and a big dog with floppy ears that looked like a cross between a husky and a German shepherd. And then there was the puppy, fast asleep on its stomach, oversized paws splayed out in all four directions, as if it had fallen asleep suddenly and went slack all over.
Something in Rafe’s chest squeezed at the sight of the small and completely relaxed puppy. He couldn’t help chuckling. “It’s a good-looking dog,” he said, noting its glossy black coat, golden brows, and the white streak down its face and snout. “A whole lot cleaner than yesterday too. And look at those big paws.”
“Berners were bred to be working dogs,” Jazz said. “They’re all muscle. Back in the day, they used to pull carts in the Swiss Alps. They grow huge, but you’ll never meet a gentler dog.”
The little guy was pretty darn adorable. So adorable he thought he’d better leave before he did something stupid like ask Jazz if he could bring it home.
The puppy suddenly woke up, blinking his eyes until he became aware of them staring at him. Then he scrambled up and stuck his nose between the bars and gave Rafe a baleful look that Rafe imagined meant, Bust me out of here already, would you?
“Any word on where it came from?” Rafe asked, letting the puppy sniff his fingers.
“No, but we’ve gotten a handful of adoption inquiries already, just by word of mouth,” she said, gazing at him steadily. “But I have a strict rule about Christmas puppies.”
He shot her a quizzical look.
“Oh, you know. At this time of year, everyone wants an adorable puppy, but not everyone should have one, if you know what I mean. Although most people are well intentioned, not everyone realizes what a commitment it is to have a pet—a baby one, no less. Truthfully, I’d love this little guy to go to a good home—the home of someone I know and trust. You interested by any chance?”
Just then the puppy stood up at the bars, tail wagging a mile a minute.
Rafe squatted down. “Hey there.” He put his fingers between the bars to rub his silky snout, and the puppy licked at them. Rafe moved his fingers, and the puppy swiped at them. This game continued. “Frisky,” Rafe said.
Jazz laughed. “All the staff have fallen in love with him.”
Well, who wouldn’t? Rafe gently scratched the dog behind the neck. The puppy rubbed up against the bars for more.
“How much longer does he have to stay here?” Rafe asked.
“I’m keeping him a few more days to see if anyone claims him and to keep an eye on him. From a health standpoint, everything seems fine.”
The puppy swiped at Rafe’s hand. When he reached in to pet it again, the puppy flopped on its belly for more.
Wow. Cuteness overload.
Jazz opened the cage. “Here,” she said, bending down to carefully gather up the puppy. “Give him some TLC. He needs it.”
“Oh no, I really don’t think—”
Jazz unceremoniously placed the dog in his arms. “There you go, sweetheart. Meet the big strong firefighter who rescued you.” She looked up at Rafe. “Can I take a picture to post in the office?”
“If you want, but I—” Before Rafe could protest, the picture was taken.
“So, you sure you wouldn’t want him?” Jazz pressed.
“I couldn’t.” He wasn’t the type to form attachments—with women or pets. “I’m gone twenty-four hours and then home forty-eight.”
“The home forty-eight part sounds perfect, if you can get somebody to take care of him when you’re at the station.”
“I really don’t think I—” Rafe suddenly burst out in laughter. The puppy was licking his fingers, one by one. “Hey, crazy dog, what are you doing?”
The puppy gave him an innocent look. When Rafe turned his attention to Jazz again, the licking continued.
“He likes you,” Jazz said. “He definitely likes you, Rafe. Reminds me of that time you found Jack. How old were you…around nine?”
Rafe kept his attention on the dog. He didn’t want to remember.
“That dog was full of mud, matted, full of fleas,” Rafe said. “It was barely potty trained and it didn’t know any commands.”
Jack had followed him home from baseball practice one night about a year after his mom had passed. His father had not wanted to take care of a mangy dog on top of four rambunctious children, but he’d relented, and Jack had become a part of the family.
He’d loved that dog. They all had, but Jack was his dog, first and foremost.
“I believe that sometimes animals find us when we need them most,” Jazz said, “not necessarily vice versa.”
“Jack was a great dog,” he said. “I like dogs. But I’m just not ready for one.” Truth was, he’d avoided any type of emotional commitment since the accident.
There was a knock on the door. Jazz scurried over to open it. It was Kaitlyn with a cardboard carrier full of coffees and a bag filled with something that smelled like cinnamon.
“Hey, Jazz,” she said, a little out of breath. “Hi, Rafe.” He examined her carefully, trying to figure out the puzzle that had been preoccupying his mind. She didn’t look especially tired or drawn—quite the contrary. Her hair was swept up in a no-nonsense ponytail with some wisps coming undone around her face and her cheeks were a little flushed from running down the street. Her apron was her trademark brown one with a giant cartoon coffee bean on it holding a cup of steaming coffee. She looked…pretty. But then, she always looked pretty.
But pregnant?
He found himself fighting not to cringe, thinking of Steve. He was an okay guy, but not for her. She deserved someone who did more than just watch football August through the Superbowl. Who understood what she said before she said it. Who could tell what she was thinking from across a room without her having to say a word.
Geez. Listen to him. Steve was a nice guy and he was acting…jealous. Which he had no right being.
“Hey, Kaitlyn,” Jazz said, lighting up at the sight of Kaitlyn bearing coffee. “You didn’t have to run these over. I could’ve gotten them myself.”
“I figured you were busy, so I thought I’d save you the trouble.” Kaitlyn caught sight of Rafe with the dog and nearly spilled the carrier, quickly carting it over to a desk and setting it down. “Besides…everyone’s talking about the puppy.” Her mouth turned up in a smile as she walked over. “I had an ulterior motive.”
Her gaze flickered between him and the puppy, who was settled in the crook of Rafe’s arm in a nirvanalike state, nearly fast asleep. Her big blue eyes shone as clear and true as the lake on a cloudless spring day, causing a strange stirring inside him that caught him completely off guard. She bent her head close enough for him to catch a whiff of her shampoo, which smelled clean and fresh, like the winter air when you come in from outside. “What a cutie-pie,” she said, curling her fingers in the puppy’s silky coat. “You’re keeping it?”
“No,” he said quickly, telling himself to snap out of it. “Just checking in.”
“No one’s claimed it yet,” Jazz said. “But my hunch is no one will. This isn’t the first time someone’s dropped off a puppy passing through town.”
“In the middle of winter?” Rafe asked. “That’s just crazy.”
“Weird,” Kaitlyn said. “It’s amazing he did so well.” She bent close to the puppy, who stirred briefly and sniffed her face. “You’re a Christmas miracle,” she said to the puppy. To Rafe, she said, “Looks like you made a friend.” She carefully avoided his gaze as she stroked the puppy. “He likes you. And it looks like you like him too. A good match.”
He smiled a little. The old Rafe might’ve said something smart-alecky to get her goat, but that kind of jocularity seemed all wrong lately. Truth was, he was kind of enjoying the fact that the puppy had snuggled right in and fallen fast asleep. Even if it was just temporary, it was very…soothing. Unlike the flares of emotions igniting all over his insides from the woman standing quietly in front of him.
“What a sweet bundle of fur,” Kaitlyn crooned. “You’re so pretty, yes you are.”
Though the dog was nearly asleep, his little tail rotated once around at the sound of Kaitlyn’s praise. If Rafe were a dog, his tail would be wagging too. “What are you going to do?” Kaitlyn asked Jazz.
“Wait and see if anyone comes forward,” Jazz said, returning to a spot behind the desk. “We’ve got notices out everywhere. Would you want him?”
Kaitlyn laughed and held up her hands. “Um, no thanks. I’ve got my hands pretty full right now.”
A vision popped into Rafe’s head. Kaitlyn and Steve sitting around a fire, bouncing a drooly, round-cheeked baby, a Christmas tree in the corner, the puppy lying on the rug.
Geez. He was too tired. He needed to go home and go to bed.
“I’ve been working on Rafe here,” Jazz said. “This little guy has certainly taken to him.”
“Are you going to take him, Rafe?” Kaitlyn was searching his face in that thorough way she had, like she could read him from the inside out. Sometimes he felt like she could.
He hesitated a moment before saying, “Nah, my hours are too messed up.” Quickly, he passed the dog back to Jazz, who took him and deposited him back on the blankets in the crate. “Hey, I’ve got to go,” Rafe said as he headed toward the door. “Thanks for letting me visit him.”
He took one last look at the sweet, sleeping puppy, nuzzled into the blankets. It was super cute now, but one day that dog was going to be huge. He could only imagine the food bill. Even as he said it, he saw a picture of himself as a nine-year-old, his father saying the same things. Since when had he turned into his dad?