When Kaitlyn showed up at the vet clinic with Jazz’s usual coffee order that morning, she found the vet nervously tapping her fingers on the reception desk.
“Hi, Jazz,” Kaitlyn said. “I brought you some cinnamon rolls—hot out of the oven.” She gave a little chuckle. “And I brought one for me too.” She held up the bag between them and shook it. “All you have to do is let me see that adorable puppy again.”
“Oh,” Jazz said, flashing her a worried look instead of her usual smile. “About the puppy…”
Kaitlyn, who was pulling a cinnamon roll out of the bag, paused. “Did something happen to him?”
“No, but I really need the space for a sick animal who needs to come in today. The Stevensons’ Great Dane has congestive heart failure.”
Kaitlyn sat down on one of the chairs near the desk. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
Jazz sighed and paced in front of the desk. “I’ve had a ton of folks flocking from everywhere around to see this dog because they want a cute puppy to put under the Christmas tree. I just don’t trust giving this dog to strangers right before the holiday.” She glanced at a chart on the counter. “Do you know the Grays? They’re coming in this morning to look at him. If I don’t place him today, he’s got to go to the pound. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so picky. I just hate it when people think of dogs as Christmas toys.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know the Grays,” Kaitlyn said. “But have a cinnamon roll,” Kaitlyn offered. “Maybe it will help you think.”
After they ate the rolls, Kaitlyn followed Jazz to the back room. As soon as the puppy saw them coming, he head-butted the bars and barked, scrambling up on his hind legs. When Kaitlyn approached the crate, he nudged her hand so she would pet him, then immediately dropped on his back, paws up in the air, giving her a look that said, Of course you want to rub my tummy, don’t you? She laughed at his antics. “Oh, you are just an affection hog, aren’t you, sweet boy? Yes you are.” She complied by giving him a belly scratch.
“He’s really cute,” she said. But right now she had no apartment, and she could only imagine what Rafe would do if she showed up at his place with a puppy.
That thought would’ve stopped most sensible people. Kaitlyn couldn’t explain why it didn’t. Just that she felt positive for the first time in so long over the possibility that her and Rafe’s relationship was growing into something else—something wonderful.
What if she did bring this puppy home? Maybe it would show Rafe what she already knew—that he was capable of so much love—for his sisters, for his nieces and nephews, for Nonna—and that loving their baby would be just as easy.
Kaitlyn paused the petting. Where did that thought come from? The idea of giving this dog to Rafe to help him understand that he wasn’t as broken as he thought was a really crazy idea…but also a very interesting one.
“Berners are amazing family dogs,” Jazz said. “They’re sweet and loyal and gentle with kids.” She bent down next to Kaitlyn, who had to sit back on her heels because her stomach, while still not very noticeable, was nonetheless getting too big for her to squat comfortably. “Your baby and this dog could grow up together.”
That would be too cute. But then Kaitlyn imagined herself in her tiny apartment with a baby and a huge dog who was tearing circles around the place because Rafe had said No. Way.
That made her shudder. She’d be out of her mind to take it. “I’m sorry, Jazz, I just can’t—”
Just then the door opened and Bob Harden, the clinic’s administrative assistant, popped his head in. “Dr. Drake, is it okay to send the Grays back?” He said hi to Kaitlyn and handed Jazz a file. “They’re previous dog owners and they already have a fenced-in yard.”
Jazz exchanged a hopeful glance with Kaitlyn as a woman walked in, accompanied by three children, the oldest of whom couldn’t have been more than seven.
The kids immediately ran over to the cage. The dog jumped up and gave them an enthusiastic greeting. Kaitlyn told herself she should go now. The family seemed nice, and Jazz’s problem would be solved.
A nagging feeling in her gut kept her feet planted to the tile floor. The feeling that Rafe had been the one to rescue this dog. Maybe that wasn’t a random act in the universe. Maybe it really was up to her to make something crazy happen because…because sometimes you just had to take a leap. And maybe this dog would rescue Rafe right back.
“It’s a purebred, right?” the woman asked. The baby, who couldn’t have been more than one and a half, stuck her hands between the bars, and the puppy licked them vigorously. The four-year-old, who was sucking a candy cane, dropped it into the crate, and the dog promptly started licking it too.
The woman made no move to snag the candy cane. “Whoops,” Jazz said politely, reaching over and pulling it out of the crate herself.
“We wanted a Pomapoo,” the woman said. “Or a Yorkipoo. Or a Maltipoo. Or a teacup pig. Something we could dress up in little outfits. And that could fit in my purse when we go to soccer games.”
Kaitlyn was about to say that this dog would fit into a purse for about a day before it outgrew it when one of the kids yanked on her sister’s braids and a tussle started. But the mom was more interested in asking more questions about whether the puppy was a purebred.
“Oh, excuse me,” Jazz said, glancing at her buzzing phone. “It’s the clinic. Kaitlyn, you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions while I get this, would you?”
“I’d be happy to,” Kaitlyn said, but a sudden sense of orneriness began to overtake her.
“So how big do these dogs get?” the woman asked.
“This dog is going to be huge,” Kaitlyn said. “See how big his paws are? And look at the muscular legs.” Something egged her on to keep going. “And muddy. Very muddy. And the shedding! Wow. We’re talking hair by the handfuls.” Kaitlyn couldn’t seem to stop. “They need tons of exercise. Probably miles every day. Are you by chance a runner?”
“How huge?” the woman asked, frowning.
“At least a hundred pounds,” Kaitlyn said.
“Okay, kids,” the woman said, gathering up her children, “this puppy’s taken, but we’re going to go look at better ones, okay?”
Jazz walked in a little later to find Kaitlyn alone, kneeling in front of the cage, stroking the top of the puppy’s head with one finger. “Didn’t work out, huh?” Jazz asked as she opened the cage and placed the dog in Kaitlyn’s arms.
“Jazz, I’m so sorry,” Kaitlyn said, accepting the puppy. “I discouraged them because I want him. I want to take him home.” She cuddled the dog and kissed it on the forehead. In response, the puppy snuggled against her head and batted her hair playfully with its paw.
“I was so hoping you’d say that,” Jazz said.
“You knew I wanted him all along, didn’t you?”
Jazz shrugged, giving Kaitlyn a knowing look. “Maybe.”
She wanted this dog. If Rafe didn’t, well…she’d make do. She envisioned herself having dog sitters on speed dial right along with babysitters, because that was probably what it was going to take if she had to raise this dog alone.
Jazz, grinning widely, said, “He’ll be a terrific companion to a baby. And a fantastic family dog. I’m excited.” She walked over and scratched the dog behind the ears. “You’re one lucky pup.”
Kaitlyn filled out some paperwork and wrote a donation check to help pay for the dog’s care over the past few days, then walked out of the vet’s office carrying her dog.
As she stepped outside, she looked at her new little buddy and said, “You can thank me later for this—if we’re both still alive after Rafe finds out.”
The dog responded with a giant lick directly over her lips and nose, which made her giggle. “Okay, well, I’m glad you’re grateful for the save.”
Kaitlyn just hoped Rafe would feel the same way.
* * *
Kaitlyn stopped to buy a crate and a leash and some dog supplies on her way back to Rafe’s house. She held off on the baby gates she knew they’d need to eventually fence off Rafe’s big open kitchen from the rest of the house. As she set up the crate in the laundry room, she hoped Rafe would feel the same way as she did about this little dog—that it was a new, high-energy, happy bundle of love—and she couldn’t help but see the parallel with what seemed to be growing between them.
At least, that’s what she thought until the pup peed on the floor and zoomed around the kitchen clacking its little toenails on Rafe’s newly sanded hardwood floors. She began to understand what Jazz had meant when she’d said Bernese Mountain dogs needed lots of room to run around. A vision of Rafe’s tidy yard littered with large plastic toys like picnic tables and toddler trikes, the lawn dotted with divots and furrows from where the dog was digging, suddenly popped into her head, making her shudder.
At one point the puppy got tangled up in its feet and went sliding on its belly across the floor, which was one of the cutest things she’d ever seen and made her laugh out loud, dashing her doubts.
She would just explain to Rafe that she’d acted on a conviction that this dog belonged to her—and to him. Them. If there was a them. Which felt like—maybe there was. Or could be. And from the way her stomach flipped and a giddiness spread through her like warm molasses, she truly thought it was possible.
And hopefully he’d feel the exact same way.
As Kaitlyn closed the laundry room door where the puppy had finally conked out after what had seemed like hours of playing, she walked into the kitchen, slid her apron over her head, and pulled out ingredients for tonight’s recipe adventure.
She plugged in the tree and turned on a radio station that played 24-7 Christmas tunes. That helped her to not feel so alone in the nice new kitchen, which was silent except for the intermittent humming of the big fridge and the intermittent tick-tick-tick of the double ovens as they heated up. She pulled up a stool to the counter, took out her notebooks, and began to plot out tonight’s experiment, where she’d decided to try different types of chocolate.
As she got to work, the kitchen doorknob rattled. She’d been so deep in concentration that the noise made her jump.
“It’s me—Rafe,” came a voice.
He was covered with snow—big flakes on his jacket, on his hair, on his too-long-for-a-man eyelashes. Fresh winter air flooded the warm kitchen, but seeing him again filled her with instant heat.
“Hey,” he said, taking in the scattered cookbooks, the coating of flour on the island, and the general mess everywhere.
“Hey,” she said, their gazes instantly locking in a way that made her fumble her wooden spoon.
“It’s sort of late to be baking,” he said, approaching the island.
She shrugged. “Five more days before the recipe is due,” she said, suddenly having trouble talking.
Rafe rolled up his sleeves and walked over to where she was mixing a bowl of dough.
“Did you have a nice day off?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I slept a little. But then I went and did some research.”
“Research?”
“Yes,” he said, his mouth curving upward, “about Christmas cookie recipes. I was thinking that maybe we could figure this thing out together.”
Together? That hit her like lightning. Did he mean together, as in them being together, or was he just talking about baking cookies?
* * *
Rafe dumped the contents of a lunch-sized paper bag on the island. Four chocolate bars slid out. He hoped that Kaitlyn would be impressed that he did his homework. “I stopped at the import store,” he said. “This is an extra dark chocolate with eighty-five percent cocoa.” He squinted as he read the fine print on the bar. “It says the ingredients come from Swiss alpine meadows.”
“Wow,” she said, smiling. “Exotic.” She was looking at him like she couldn’t believe he’d gone to the import store. He hoped that was just the beginning of many surprises he had to show her, and he wasn’t just thinking about chocolate.
He reached into the bag again, pulling out another. “Super dark chocolate—ninety-nine percent cacao. That’s not the same as cocoa, is it?”
“No.”
He reached in a third time. “This one is German milk chocolate. And here’s a German dark. And finally…” He pulled out the last bar with a little sweep of his hand. “Hershey’s. That’s for you to eat, because it might not be suitable for a fancy cookie, but it’s classic, and not to be underestimated. So let’s get to work.”
“Thanks for the Hershey’s,” she said, not wasting any time in snagging it up and ripping it open. “My favorite.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot,” he said, as she broke off a piece of the chocolate and handed it to him.
“About chocolate?” She’d already taken a bite, but she suddenly stopped chewing.
“That’s part of it, yes. We’ll talk later. But for right now—I’m here to help. What can I do?”
“Oh.” She seemed surprised again. “Well, you can melt the chocolate. And while the cookies are baking, maybe we can work on the dishes. How’s that?”
“I’ll get right on it.”
“But you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he said, meeting her questioning gaze. “Will you let me help? I promise not to screw things up. Too much.”
She smiled. “Okay, I’d love your help.”
“Great,” he said. Thank goodness, she was finally going to let him do something.
“But Rafe, I have to tell you something,” she added, causing him to turn around on his way to the microwave. “I hope you won’t be upset but—”
Just then a loud yip emanated from the direction of the laundry room. Rafe halted in his tracks. The faint ticking of the oven suddenly seemed very loud as he and Kaitlyn stared at each other across the kitchen. He shot her an incredulous look. “You didn’t.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I did.” She rushed onward. “But I can explain.”
The dog yipped again, this time followed by a little whimper.
“Jazz needed the space at her clinic for a sick dog,” she said, talking as fast as she could, “and she had all these families who wanted a Christmas puppy, but no one she could trust. Then this family came in who wanted one of those fancy poo dogs and the woman wanted to dress it up and carry it around in her purse and I…I just…”
Rafe was already in the laundry room flicking on the light. And there was the puppy, tangled up in a towel, blinking its eyes. It looked tiny and a little disoriented. On seeing Rafe, it jumped up and batted the bars of the crate, the white dot on the end of its tail a blur as it wagged back and forth.
Rafe squatted before the puppy. It licked his finger and gave him a baleful look.
Aw, geez.
Rafe turned to Kaitlyn. “First there was the baby announcement. Then there was Nonna getting sick and the fake engagement, which we still haven’t set people straight on. Then there was the asbestos.”
“Look, you don’t have to say any more,” she said. “I’ll leave just as soon as—”
“Will you let me finish?” Rafe said. His life was changing faster than he could keep track of. But if all those changes brought him closer to Kaitlyn, he could handle them all. “The point is, life has sort of turned itself on its ear lately. But…I kind of like it.” He stood up and faced her. She was clinging to the washing machine. “Babies and puppies should grow up together.”
“Yes. You’re right.” She nodded and let out a huge sigh. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
He tipped his head toward the crate. “So does the little guy have to go outside?”
“Jazz told me to be sure to take him out every time he wakes up from a nap.”
Rafe clipped the leash onto the dog’s collar. “I’ll do it. You get back to baking.” He didn’t mention that it was going to be a long winter, potty training a puppy in the dead of winter. “Did you give him a name?”
“Of course not,” she said, smiling. “I was waiting for you.”