Please enjoy this excerpt from Blizzard in the Bluegrass, book 2 of the Red Blood and Bluegrass series.

The barn had fallen in on itself, and the screen door of the house hung on one hinge. Daffodils sprang up all over the shaggy yard, and a giant dip in the gravel driveway would take out a man’s transmission if he hit it at the right angle.

Jeff Brock stood next to his mother and slipped his left hand into the pocket of his khaki pants. To his credit, he only shook his head once. His deep voice simultaneously sounded both kind and firm when he spoke. “No.”

“It comes with the practice, Son.” She looked over at him. “Your uncle wanted you to have it. There’s nothing here we can’t fix, replace, or remove.”

He closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun. He’d known he needed a change of scenery. His life in Louisville had become a rut of mundane day-to-day. His house had turned into a shrine to Liz and Katrina. To come here, however, and take over his great-uncle Calvin Fitzpatrick’s family practice clinic and move into the house in which his mother’s father had been born felt like too much of an extreme.

Maybe he could just sell his house in Louisville; change hospitals. Maybe he didn’t need to make it so drastic, so permanent. He could get a small apartment downtown and enjoy city life.

“Jeffrey, it’s been three years. You still suffer like it happened this morning. I think what you need is to live here in this quaint little town, fix this house up, see the family practice patients, and set your mind and body on a path of healing.”

Forcing himself to relax, he turned to fully face her. They had the same dark brown hair. She wore hers clipped short so she didn’t have to fight it when prepping for surgery. They were both tall and lean. She had light gray eyes hidden behind very respectable wire-framed glasses, while his eyes had greener shades than gray. “My body doesn’t need any healing.”

“Really? When’s the last time you slept for more than three hours at a stretch?” She put a hand on his cheek. “My son, you cannot go on like this. Not this way.”

He jerked away and took a step back to evade her touch. “What makes you think I want to go on?”

She pressed her lips together and pulled the house key out of her pocket. “Doesn’t look like Fitz did much in his last few months alive. Let’s go see what shape the rest of my grandparents’ house is in, shall we?”

She wore purple slacks and a purple and pink striped shirt. She looked like someone ready for an afternoon tea at the country club rather than someone about to walk into an old farmhouse. Jeff decided to humor her, to get through the afternoon, then put his inheritance on the market. Maybe he’d take over the practice. Maybe not. That would take time and research to determine. Regardless, he certainly did not intend to live in this house.

They stepped onto the porch and maneuvered around rotting boards and gaping holes with care. Wilma unlocked the door, and they went inside. Jeff wrinkled his nose against the sudden musty smell. Sunlight poured into the room through dusty windows. A dull wood floor made their steps echo in the empty house.

“Oh. Well, shucks. I somehow thought there would be furniture here,” his mother mused. “I wonder where it is.”

“I saw a receipt for a storage facility in the paperwork,” Jeff crossed the room and walked through an archway that led to the kitchen. “Probably there.”

He stared at the yellow and white linoleum floor as a vague memory tickled his mind. Something with Christmas and a laughing woman with a red apron. “Were we ever here on Christmas?”

Wilma smiled. “Every year until my grandmother died when you were four. After that, it was just Uncle Calvin out here, and he started coming to us for the holidays.”

He left his mother looking through the kitchen cabinets and walked back through the living room and into a bedroom. This room shared a fireplace with the front room. He knelt and looked through the glass doors, seeing the living room as if looking through a dirty window.

Odd. In the back of his mind, he thought this might make a good office. Not that he intended to stay. He crossed the hall into another, bigger room. Through the far window, he saw the line of trees at the edge of the property.

He heard another vehicle so he went back to the front room and looked out the window. A red, extended cab pickup truck pulled into the yard and stopped right by the barn. A woman in a pair of jeans and a light blue T-shirt got out of the driver’s side. She had a brown cap pulled low on her face. Moving quickly and efficiently, she walked around the truck to open the passenger’s door. She glanced at his car with some curiosity then turned back to her truck. She reached in and moved the truck’s front seat. Seconds later, a little boy bounded out of the cab. At the sight of the young child, Jeff felt a lump rise in his throat.

The woman held out her hand, and the boy took it and let her lead him into the barn. As she entered the barn, she looked behind her once more, as if seeking the owner of the car sitting in the driveway.

Intrigued, he stepped out of the house and walked down the steps, then crossed the yard to the barn. He could hear her talking from inside the barn but could not make out what she said until he stepped into the building.

“Go slow. She’ll remember you, but she’s never had you around her babies before.”

He blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light. He found her crouched at eye level with the boy. As Jeff stepped closer, her eyes shifted his way, and she held up a hand as if asking him to stop. She looked back at the boy. “Go ahead and talk to her.”

“Did you know that Labrador Retrievers are from Newfoundland?” The little boy spoke in an excited tone. Jeff could see a lump on the hay in front of them. He took another step closer and made out a dog.

“Talk to her, Noah. Not me.” When Noah turned to face the dog, the woman gave Jeff a puzzled glance.

Noah said, “Newfoundland is actually called Newfoundland and Labrador, which is where your name comes from.”

The dog’s tail hesitantly wagged. The boy walked closer, and the tail stopped moving. The woman put her hand on his shoulder, and he stopped but kept talking. “Newfoundland and Labrador was founded by the Viking Leif Erikson. I love Vikings. Norse mythology is so fascinating.”

The dog’s tail started wagging again, and the boy talked until he squatted next to the dog. “I think your puppies are marvelous. I promise I won’t touch them yet. But Mama and I brought you some food. I’m not allowed to hang out in here without her, so I’ll leave now and come back tomorrow.” He looked up at the woman. “Can I pet her?”

She shook her head. “Best give her another day. She’s had a hard time, and all those puppies are touching her right now. She’ll know you care when you feed her. That will be enough for today.”

They stood and turned. She slipped her arms over the boy’s shoulders as they walked toward him. “Hi. I’m Gloria Sutton. I’m the local vet.”

“Jeff Brock.” He held out his hand, and she released the boy to shake it.

When she smiled, her brown eyes lit up. “Jeff Brock. Fitz’s great-nephew?”

A straight brown ponytail hung out from the back of her baseball cap. Jeff nodded. “My mom’s brother. She and I are here checking the place out.”

A smile lit up her face as if something sparked to life inside her. “We loved Fitz, didn’t we, Noah?”

Noah looked up at her. “We have to feed Blondie now.”

“We do, and we will. Right now, you need to have manners.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Noah sighed. Then he looked at Jeff and grimaced a smile. “Hi. I’m Noah. I loved Fitz. He died.” He looked up at Gloria again. “Now can I feed her?”

Her laughter filled the barn. “Of course. Yes, you may.”

Noah raced out of the barn. Jeff and Gloria followed at a more reasonable pace. “With the way this barn is falling in, is it safe to let him go in and out?”

She walked to the truck and opened the tailgate. Noah climbed on board and went to a large plastic container. Jeff watched as he filled a metal bowl with food from the container.

“Well, you know something? I appreciate you asking instead of just dictating that it wouldn’t be safe.” She reached into the back of the truck and grabbed a gallon jug of water. “It’s safe enough, and he’s not in there exploring or moving anything. He had Fitz’s yellow Lab Blondie at the house about to have a litter. She disappeared, and we found her here yesterday. I figured she came because she wanted to have the puppies at home, where she’s lived all her life. Dogs get attached to people and scents. To her, this place still smells like your uncle.”

He looked all around at the vast fields of overgrown weeds and the edges of a forest of trees. “You live nearby, then?”

She pointed at the trees. “About a half a mile that way. There’s a path we can take with an ATV or a horse.” She turned and pointed at the road. “If you go that way, it’s more like three miles.” She held up the water. “I need to go make sure Noah’s okay, and get Blondie watered.”

As Gloria went back into the barn, Jeff’s mother came out of the house. He walked across the yard to meet her halfway. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Neighbors are taking care of Fitz’s dog. She had puppies this morning.”

As he spoke, Gloria and Noah came out of the barn. She tossed the empty water jug into the back of the truck while Noah climbed into the cab, then she approached them. “Hi. I’m Gloria Sutton. I live over that way.” She gestured toward the trees. “Sorry to impose. We just came to take care of the puppies.”

His mom smiled and held out her hand. “Wilma Brock. Fitz was my mom’s brother.”

Jeff noticed that everywhere his mother was long and lean, Gloria was short and compact. His mother gave an air of gentle grace, while Gloria looked like someone who could take charge and just run with it. He found himself fascinated by the dichotomy.

Gloria slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Are you going to be living here?”

He shrugged and looked from his mom to her. “I think so. The inside is in way better condition than I anticipated considering the shape of the outside. I’ll see what I can do with local contractors.” Where had that come from? He had no intention of living way out here. “But I’ll go ahead and get the water turned on so you have it for Blondie.”

She smiled that glowing smile again. “Thanks!” She took a step back and gestured at her truck. “I have to get Noah home and get started on our evening.” After a few steps, she turned, the gravel crunching together under her boots. “It was great to meet both of you. I hope to see you again soon.”

As she drove away, his mom looked at him with a small smile. “Reconsidering not living out here suddenly? Dogs, puppies, country air?”

He cleared his throat and scowled. “I don’t even know what just happened.”

“That’s okay, Son.” She patted his arm. “I do. I’ve been praying for something to happen.”

Get Blizzard in the Bluegrass today.