"... engrossing... an earthy, sensuous, slow-building romance between two scrappy, slow-to-trust misfits...Rich and atmospheric...Complex and intriguing." - Publishers Weekly STARRED REVIEW Nestled among the forests and coves that dot the Oregon coast, Sanctuary Ranch is a home for strays--both human and animal--and the starting off point for second chances . . . After aging out of the California foster care system, Jamie Vaughn found her place in the world at Sanctuary Ranch in Sunset Bay. But other lost souls are not so lucky, so she's made it her mission to rescue those that cross her path--like the injured pup she just found. The man he belongs to is obviously an unfit owner, so she's just going to ignore the address on the dog's tag. She has more important things on her mind, like roping her handsome coworker, Gideon, out of the friend zone and into helping her . . . Head wrangler Gideon Low knows that Jamie's bark is worse than her bite, despite her rough exterior. In fact, he's determined to protect her from her too-tender heart, even if it means returning the not-so-homeless puppy--and putting some distance between them. But sooner or later, Gideon's best intentions will turn on him. And he'll learn that he's not the only one with secrets--and that the love of your life can be right under your nose . . .
Release date:
June 26, 2018
Publisher:
Zebra Books
Print pages:
298
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Jamie Vaughn believed in signs. They were scattered across the universe like cosmic kitty litter, a nudge here, a suggestion there, a roadblock somewhere else. Or, if you weren’t paying attention, the occasional punch to the gut.
Jamie meant to pay attention. She tried. But fortune favored the pigheaded, and decades of elbows-up, barge-in-and-take-it was proving tougher to shake than nicotine.
Her abs were rock-solid from all the gut-punches.
However, almost twenty-six seemed a good age for personal growth so she put on her toughest don’t-care face, shoved her hands into the back pockets of her skinny jeans, and planted her boots squarely in the doorway of the kennel room, determined to get her way.
Haylee looked up from the grooming table where she was brushing Jewel, her Labrador-cross therapy dog. Pregnancy made her look round and cute and soft but Jamie knew that was an illusion.
“You’re about to pop, Haylee.”
As announcements went, it was worse than unnecessary. The quick flare of Haylee’s nostrils told Jamie it was also unwelcome and unappreciated. Not her best opening move.
“I’ve got eight weeks to go. That’s nowhere near popping.” She stuck out her lip and blew a blond curl off her face. “Grab a brush. How does this dog get so much junk in her coat on a thirty minute beach walk?”
“It’s a mystery to all.” Jamie joined her at the table, and began detangling the big dog’s back end.
Determined.
Tough.
Strategic.
“I have a proposition, Haylee.” She took a deep breath and dove in. “I want to take over the program while you’re on maternity leave.”
Haylee’s hand stilled. “We’ve talked about this. Companions with Purpose is my baby.”
Jamie had once dreamed of being a police K9 handler, but EX plus CON equalled a roadblock even Attila couldn’t conquer. Training dogs at Sanctuary Ranch was her lifeline, her chance to get past the screw-ups she’d weaseled under, skated over, slipped around. To catch her breath from the gut-punch that kept on giving.
“I want more than hosing down kennels and exercising the boarders. I’m a good trainer. You said it yourself.”
“You’re a natural, but—”
“I understand suspending the classes.” She didn’t. “But at least continue the therapy visits. Jewel’s slobbery kisses might be the only thing keeping some of those old geezers alive. Let me help. I’ve seen you getting in and out of a car. Juggling the leash, your purse, your keys, your emergency underwear. It’s not pretty.”
“No fair.” Haylee pointed the slicker brush at her. “Let’s see you watch Bridesmaids with a five-pound fetus dancing on your bladder.”
Humor was a good sign.
Jamie switched to a wider-toothed comb, counted down from ten, then took fresh aim.
“Aiden thinks you’re overworking yourself, you know. He told me. In fact, he kind of appointed me your guardian angel.”
Truth was a fluid thing, Jamie believed, that the interpretation of facts changed according to the lens of the viewer. And what she’d said could have been true.
“Aiden thinks I need an angel?” Haylee met her eyes, gave a slow blink. “With Olivia and Daphne already vying for godmother, the last thing I need is more hovering.”
Jewel yipped and Haylee dropped the comb. “Sorry, baby, that was a bad tangle.”
“Mommy’s mean, isn’t she?” Jamie fished a piece of freeze-dried liver from the treat jar, fed it to Jewel, then stroked the greying muzzle.
“You’ll miss your visiting, won’t you, Ju-Jube? But it’ll be okay. You’re probably tired of all that helping anyway. You’re an old dog, you’ve earned your retirement.”
“Passive aggressive.” Haylee flicked a chunk of bramble-laden fur into the trash. “Nice.”
“Active aggressive isn’t working so shit-hot. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
The laugh she tagged onto the end sounded as fake as her boot-black hair. Pathetic. But she couldn’t help herself.
Haylee ran one hand over Jewel’s coat, checking for more burrs. “You were hired for the kitchen. I already take too much of your time.”
“Wow, low blow.” She handed Haylee a spray bottle of coat conditioner. “All those hormones must be poisoning your brain. You used to love me.”
“I still love you. But I’m hot and fat and my back hurts.” Haylee ran the back of her hand over her forehead. “Everything but the boarding kennel is on hold for now. Therapy visits. Rescues. Training. We’ll revisit your role when I’ve figured out life with a new baby.”
A scuffing noise sounded beyond them, and a long, tall shadow flickered through the sunshine.
Gideon.
Jamie’s heart lurched like a newborn foal.
“Hi,” she said. It came out like a gunshot and she felt blood rush into her cheeks. She’d been fine for a whole year. More than that. Then one day, that rough voice sent tremors to the pit of her stomach and just like that, she lost her mind. She didn’t know where to put her hands or what to say. Her feet got big. Her mouth got bigger. She forgot how to breathe.
“Ladies,” he said, tipping his hat and giving them that slow, narrow-eyed smile. “You’re looking lovely today, Haylee.”
“No ladies here. We’re women.” Jamie tossed her head, which felt like it weighed fifty pounds, and her hat fell off. “Oops.”
Her conversation skills went straight down the drain when he was around.
“No disrespect intended.” He turned to Haylee. “You, Haylee, look lovely. Glowing.”
“You’re such a liar. It’s one of your best qualities.” Haylee gave her dog a kiss, then helped her down the steps from the grooming table. “What’s up?”
Jewel shook herself and ran to Gideon, who braced his muscular legs for the onslaught. She wriggled her big body, rubbing herself against him while he stroked and patted and murmured.
Jamie watched his hands roam over the dog’s fur and her skin tingled, imagining.
“Wanted to let James know I don’t need her for the trail ride tomorrow, after all,” Gideon said. “Huck’s coming instead.”
The tingles evaporated. “Don’t call me James.”
“Daphne will be glad to hear that,” Haylee said, running a sticky roller over her pants to get rid of the dog hair. “Me too. She’ll have time to feed the steers for me then, tomorrow.”
“Gosh,” Jamie said. “Did I forget to take off my secret invisibility cloak again? I’m right here. And can’t I take an extra turn on barn-cleaning rather than feed Charley and his cohort? You know how I feel about them.”
“We all told you not to name them.” Gideon’s smile faded. He glanced at Haylee. “She’s not on the schedule, is she? For, you know.”
“Again, right here!” She waved her hand in front of Gideon. “And no. I’m exempt from the final episode on religious grounds.”
“Vegetarianism isn’t a religion.” But his smile was back.
“Buddhism is.”
“You’re not Buddhist.”
“I could be Buddhist!”
“If I could interject,” Haylee broke in, drawing Gideon’s attention. “Jamie will be working elsewhere at slaughter time. And don’t mind her. She’s pissed because I’m not handing over the reins of Companions with Purpose to her while I’m . . . busy.” She made a circular gesture toward her abdomen.
Gideon’s eyebrows moved slightly. “Huh,” he said.
“I don’t want to take over. I just want to be a trainer.” Jamie signalled for Jewel to sit, then gave her another treat. “I figured acting as Jewel’s handler for a few weeks would be a good way to start, plus helping Haylee in her time of need. Win-win. And Jewel loves me. Look how well she responds to me.”
Haylee put a hand to the small of her back and sighed. The skirmish was already lost.
“Look, I don’t have the time or energy to argue. You get plenty of time away from the kitchen with Gideon and the horses already. And yes, I appreciate what you do around the kennels immensely. You’ve got a great heart.” Haylee hesitated, and Jamie’s guard went up. “But you’re not ready for more, and I don’t have time to teach you, even if you were. Sorry, James, it’s just the way it is.”
Ouch.
Haylee motioned to her dog and the two of them walked past Gideon and Jamie, leaving them alone in the grooming room.
Jamie began cleaning up, tossing equipment into the basket, sweeping fur off the table, moving too fast in hopes of distracting herself from what felt distressingly like an onslaught of tears.
Haylee was being unreasonable. Jamie could do so much more; she knew she could. All she needed was a chance. She swallowed, and her throat made an awkward, clicking sound.
Then the warm weight of Gideon’s hand settled on her shoulder, stilling her. For a moment, she allowed it to seep into her, like seawater on sun-dried driftwood, making her feel dark and heavy and full of life.
“She knows how talented you are,” he said quietly. “The timing’s not right, that’s all.”
The comforting heat flowed over her like caramel over a ripe, red apple at the fair, taking a plain thing and making it better, sweeter, shinier. That’s how it was with Gideon. He made people feel good about themselves. He made her believe she was more than a stray, more than unclaimed baggage, more than the flotsam and jetsam tossed onto the beach after a storm.
“Try not to take it personally, kiddo.”
Kiddo.
The word hit like a rogue wave, snapping her back to reality, reminding her that no matter the hope he inspired, he still saw her as a girl who’d landed at Sanctuary Ranch with a lightweight backpack, a heavyweight past, and a big question mark for a future.
She shrugged out from beneath his hand and brushed her forearm over her eyes. “Glad you don’t need me tomorrow. I have to get out for a bit before supper. Tell Daphne I’ll be back in time for prep.” She shouldered past him through the door.
“Wait. Where’re you going?”
“Riding.” She headed for the corrals.
“Want some company?”
“No.”
He continued to follow. “James? You okay?”
She gritted her teeth. “You betcha. I’m awesome.”
She disappeared into the tack room and to her relief, he let her go.
Pigheaded persistence, she had it in spades. But her don’t-care face only lasted so long. And all the signs in the world didn’t matter if there was no way forward.
Jamie gave the bay gelding a solid nudge with her knee to move him farther up the wooded path. She had an hour before Daphne needed her for the dinner rush, and she had to get her act together.
The dense, heavy quiet of the coastal rainforest in summer was punctuated only by the rustlings and calls of the wildlife within it and the soft crush of hooves on humus. But instead of being soothing, the silence made the swirling maelstrom inside her head seem louder.
All she wanted was a chance. Haylee couldn’t keep up with her schedule, not with the baby coming. And Jamie had more than proven herself in the kennel, with dogs Haylee herself had been iffy on. Like Hannibal, for instance. If not for Jamie, he’d be dead. Instead, the massive mastiff mix had raised the social capital of a cute, nerdy paraplegic kid who now had more girlfriends than he knew what to do with.
Nash pulled on the reins, reaching for a stand of juicy-looking grass.
She yanked his head up, then instantly regretted it.
“Sorry, buddy.” She swallowed. “It’s not you, it’s me.”
Her throat tightened. Talk about paying it forward. Or shit rolling downhill, which was more like it. Poor horse didn’t deserve her today.
Nash whuffled softly through his nose, forgiving her. She gave him his head and listened to his hoofbeats as they thumped softly, rhythmically, hypnotically on the leaf-littered trail. Slowly, the thrashing of her heart and soul subsided.
Jamie could be a great trainer, she knew it. But Haylee was as territorial as any alpha and Jamie was just the new hire who helped out wherever needed—when she wasn’t busy assisting the cook.
On a conscious level, Jamie knew she was overreacting. They were friends. Haylee valued her. The hurt was unintentional. She simply hadn’t considered the idea that Jamie might have more to contribute.
She respected Haylee. To have her look through Jamie like she wasn’t good enough or smart enough or . . . real, hurt.
But what bothered her the most was that Gideon had witnessed it. Heat twisted in her gut again as she recalled his expression. The lifted eyebrows, that surprised blink. Then the sigh, the slightly amused incredulity.
His touch, which she’d thought was so kind and understanding, had been nothing more than pity.
Of course, she knew Haylee’s rejection wasn’t personal. But it didn’t matter.
It made no difference how tough she was on the outside because, on the inside, she was still the new kid, the foster kid, forgotten yet again at school pickup.
The invisibility cloak was real.
And there was no best-before date on humiliation, it seemed.
She reached down to stroke the horse. “You’re a good boy, Nash.”
He was exactly what she needed so she focused on her breath, the moment, the solid warmth of the animal beneath her. Nash was good on trails, energetic but not flighty, compliant without being passive, and most importantly for the ranch, he was reliable with guests. One of the perks of the job was that she could ride as much as she wanted in her off time.
She’d love to have a horse of her own one day, one she could train herself from a foal, really bond with, but secondhand was second nature for her, and working with other peoples’ animals was better than nothing.
She wasn’t complaining. She had it good at Sanctuary Ranch, and she knew it.
She inhaled deeply, bringing the green-drenched air into her lungs and holding it there, imagining bright white oxygen rushing in, healing cells from the insults of daily living. She let the breath out, loudly enough for Nash to glance backwards, braced for another outburst.
“Sorry, buddy.” She reached down and patted his wide neck. “Just trying to live life in the now. No regrets, right?”
She was heartsick with longing for the quiet, handsome wrangler who’d somehow gone from her best friend to someone she couldn’t live without. But she didn’t regret it.
Gideon.
Why did he have to be so perfect? If only he were an asshole like every other guy she’d known, then she could flip him off and forget him.
Her face burned when she remembered the look on his face after she’d kissed him last Christmas. How deliberately he’d avoided her eyes, as if even that intimacy was too much. How carefully he’d chosen his tone, his words, as if afraid she would clasp them to her love-sick bosom and interpret even the slightest kindness as an admission of adoration.
Aw, James, no.
And he’d given her the old slug on the arm, like she was a buddy, a pal, a chum.
Okay, maybe he was an asshole after all.
“A gigantic asshole,” she muttered, urging the horse into a trot, dodging low-lying branches, welcoming the cold slap of damp leaves to her overheated skin.
So he was a little older than her, but she was an old soul, far older than her years. So they were different. She made him smile, loosened up that tight armor of his, made him laugh now and then, even. And his calm demeanor settled her somehow.
She whacked at a dead branch, hearing a satisfying crack as it twisted and broke.
This was his fault. He’d made her fall in love with him. So one of two things had to happen now. Either she had to fall out of love with him. Or he had to fall into love with her.
Pigheaded persistence, here we go again.
Suddenly the bay gelding’s muscles tightened beneath her, alerting her to the present. He reared up with a shrill whinny, sidestepping on nervous hooves, an age-old instinct for self-preservation urging him to flee.
“Easy, boy.” Jamie gathered the reins, gripping the saddle with her thighs, scanning the shadowy depths in front of them, her nerves jumping. Nash didn’t freak out for no reason.
She squinted against the sunlight slanting through the canopy, and then she saw it.
Not a predator.
It was a chocolate-colored dog, skulking at the side of the path, half hidden by ferns, ears back, eyes wide. More frightened of them than they were of it, as the saying went.
She patted the horse’s neck, her own heart pounding. “It’s okay, Nash. It’s just a dog.” But the horse drummed a tattoo with his hooves, slipping on the rotting vegetation.
“Easy, easy, boy!”
She reined him in a tight circle, let him stomp and snort, hoping he wouldn’t dump her and run. Though it would serve Gideon right if she broke her neck out here, wouldn’t it? He’d be sorry then, wouldn’t he?
“Listen to yourself,” she muttered. No wonder he didn’t take her seriously.
Nash quivered and rolled white eyes, more dramatic than necessary. The dog whined, took a few steps toward them, and Jamie got a better look. A Labrador retriever, female, old, unkempt. Scrawny. A leather collar hung loosely from her neck. When she walked, tags jingled.
“Hey, sweetie,” Jamie called. “What are you doing out here alone?”
She pushed aside thoughts of Gideon and looked around for the dog’s human.
“Hello?” she called.
No one answered.
“Is anyone there?”
The dog whined again and glanced up the path. A smell drifted in, nasty, like rotten garbage or manure, then just as quickly dissipated.
Unease lifted the hairs at the back of Jamie’s neck.
“Talk to me, Lassie.” She spoke loudly, glancing around her. “Is Timmy in the well?”
Or had someone abandoned the animal?
If so, they’d chosen a good spot. The tiny beach town of Sunset Bay was a couple of miles southwest of her current position. The ranch was a mile behind her by trail, three by road. It wouldn’t be the first time some jerk had unloaded an unwanted dog or cat out here. Too lazy to find them a new home, too cheap to relinquish them to a shelter, wilfully ignorant enough to believe they were “setting them free.”
Yeah, Jamie judged them.
“Be good, Nash.” She slipped off the horse’s back and tied the reins loosely to a branch.
“Hey, girl,” she crooned, fishing a dog treat from her pocket. “You hungry?”
The dog’s nose quivered, but she held back. Trust issues.
Jamie knew about a few properties along the main road to town, but logging roads, most now abandoned, crisscrossed the area and beautiful, remote land always housed more inhabitants than met the eye.
With sufficient motivation, enough land between you and your neighbor, and the smarts to keep your nose clean and your fences mended, residents of the area were usually willing to live and let live. People came here for privacy. To start over. Sometimes to disappear.
The dog wagged her tail and began loping up the trail, favoring her right hind leg. And for a breed that should be stocky with muscle, this one barely had enough to cover her bony ribs.
Jamie leaped back onto Nash and nudged him with her heel, but the gelding tossed his head and tap-danced on the path. The ranch horses were well used to dogs, but something was definitely up Nash’s butt today.
“Quit being a baby,” she told him. “She’s half the size of Hannibal and you’re not scared of him.”
The mastiff–pit bull cross was her success story, even though Haylee had done most of the training. He was the one that had given Jamie the itch. She wanted to do it again, channel that energy and intelligence, take that kernel of potential and nurture it into something amazing.
She could do with another Hannibal right now.
The bay gelding snorted and tossed his head again and obeyed, grudgingly.
“Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall,” Jamie sang, glancing around her. “Ninety-nine bottles of beer.” She paused, then switched to a conversational tone. “Why are they always on a wall? Shouldn’t they be on a shelf? They’re not posters. They’re bottles.”
They came to where the trail branched off into a lesser-used section leading farther up into the hills, or looped gently down to hug a series of inlets and eventually return to the ranch. The dog must be headed to a property in the hills somewhere.
“Where to now?” Jamie asked the dog. “If that’s home, then good luck. Tell someone to look after that leg of yours. You probably smell like an appetizer out here.”
But the dog didn’t exit the downward trail. Instead, she continued to lead, picking up her limping pace enough that Jamie lost sight of her waving tail a few times. Each time, the dog doubled back, as if urging her to follow and hurry up about it.
Intriguing. What, or whom, was the dog heading for?
When the thick cedars and pines gave way to the lower scrub and rocky outcroppings, the Labrador sped up even more, whining. Now the dog veered off the main path, onto a smaller deer trail. Nash stopped, bobbing his head anxiously.
“Come on,” said Jamie, urging him forward. “We’ve come this far.”
A few yards in, the forest opened up and in front of them, framed by towering evergreens, was a small pool, carved into the basalt by the restless winter runoff from one of scores of creeks that cut through the palisade of mountains separating the ocean from the state’s interior. Nurse trees, dead as the driftwood hurled inland by some long-ago tsunami, flanked the creek, green saplings spiking sunward from the rotting depths. With the gentle trickling of the mountain stream in the background, it was a mossy, haunting paradise.
“You,” Jamie told the dog, “should be a tour guide.”
Could it be a hot spring? A trail ride with this as a destination, plus Daphne’s famous picnic lunch and an hour of swimming, would be a huge hit with ranch guests. She couldn’t wait to tell Haylee and Olivia about it. They were always looking for new activities to offer.
The skinny Lab whined again and sat down, looking first at Jamie, then down over the edge of the pool. She barked, twice. Nash, still unsettled, swivelled his ears and snorted.
And then Jamie heard it. A second voice, yipping and crying.
A second dog.
A puppy.
The back of Jamie’s neck tingled. Oh, God. Timmy wasn’t in the well. He was in the pool.
And Timmy was a dog, not a kid, which rendered the metaphor useless. Like her, when she was nervous. And possibly hearing things.
She leaped off Nash’s back, raced to the edge, and peered over. The movement startled the skinny dog, who backed away to the far side of the pool.
“Is someone there?”
She waited, her heart thudding.
Nothing. It was hard to see. The dark rocky sides were veiled by moss and lichen, full of shadows, the water still and black.
Her heart thudded.
“Hello?” Jamie called again. The old dog whined again and pawed the soft dirt in front of her.
Nothing. She sat back on her haunches, observing the Labrador.
“What are you trying to tell me, girl? Did I hear a puppy, or has my brain finally scrambled?”
She stood up, rummaging in her pockets. Yes, she had dog treat. . .
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