Rain began to fall from the sky in thin vertical threads, misting down on their faces. Strikes of cold water bounced off the quarried stone beneath her feet, splashing against her ankles.
“Summer,” the edge of her voice beginning to crack.
“I’m right here in front of you. Right now! Why can’t you just be honest with your feelings?”
Fear, trust, desire, love, and her old adversary guilt, flashed out of control, a cautionary beacon of sure danger ahead. She didn’t have time to be reasonable. Or the courage.
“I am being honest with my feelings.”
The lie came out smoothly, but he wasn’t buying it. His hand slipped into hers, the simplest gesture of affection sent her heart into a sputter.
“I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of trying to force the puzzle pieces of my life together. They just don’t fit. You are the missing piece of my puzzle, Carrie Ann. It’s driving me crazy. Especially after…”
A bellowing cry from the tree line interceded, gripping both of them with fear.
“Aspen,” they said simultaneously.
Summer bolted toward the whining howls, robe whipping behind him like a superhero cape. Damn he was fast. Carrie Ann threw on her boots and chased after him, boobs bouncing wildly with no concern. Adrenaline coursed through her veins fearing the worst. The pup’s cries getting louder with each yelp.
By the time she caught up to Summer, he held Aspen to his chest with one hand. The other hand restrained her paws from scratching at her face. Winded from sprinting, Carrie Ann hinged at the waist, sucking in air. Half a dozen cream-colored sticks bore into Aspen’s snout.
“Are those…”
“Porcupine quills. Shh, it’s okay girl.” Worry coated his dry voice, giving kisses to the top of Aspen’s head.
Carrie Ann moved in for the dog, yearning to comfort her cries, but Summer wouldn’t relinquish the pup. She stood on the sidelines, anxiously wringing her sweaty hands, waiting for her turn.
Brows tucked tight in concern, he started for the barn. “We’ve got to get these out of her.”
Compressing the spring of her breasts in the palm of her hands, Carrie Ann jogged alongside him, keeping pace with his long determined strides. “Take them out? How are we going to get them out?”
Hearing her voice, Aspen thrashed and wiggled in his arms, whining to get to her. Carrie Ann gave no regard to her shirt, wide open and kiting behind her like a sail. She repeatedly attempted to reach for the dog, breasts bouncing freely with her stride. Summer glanced down at her, eyes quickly plunging to her boobs before meeting her gaze. Without stopping, he handed off the pup.
“Meet me in the barn. I’ll see what I can find.”
She snuggled Aspen tightly in her arms, minimizing the dog’s movement as Summer sprinted for the barn. Her whines drifted off, but her dark brown eyes darted and bulged in a pleading fashion. “It’s okay, girl. Your daddy’s gonna fix you up. He’s gonna make you all better.”
Eleven barbed quills embedded in her nose and lips. It reminded Carrie Ann of a thick, bushy, walrus mustache she’d seen at an adventure park as a kid.
Reaching the barn, a bottle of peroxide and a tube of antibiotic ointment sat beside a thick towel laid out on the bar top. Summer met her with a pair of green handled, flat jawed, pliers and a smaller more delicate pair of medical pliers used for clamping.
“You’re going to have to hold her still while I pull them out.” His voice moderated, turning to sweet sugary honey, speaking to Aspen. “What were you thinking taking on a porcupine? Huh, you crazy little girl. I bet you don’t do that again.”
His warm protective tone grabbed hold of a thin thread bound around her heart, tugging gently. Carrie Ann croaked, “Do you want me to lay her on the bar or should I hold her?”
He snatched the towel, giving her a brief nod signaling her to lift the pup from her chest. She did as he asked, allowing him do tuck the cottony towel between them, his knuckles brushing the curve of her breast. A raspy groan gathered in his throat. “I swear, I think the two of you are trying to kill me.”
Her lips pursed, smothering a tiny smile. “Sorry.”
“Like hell you are.” He bent, lowering his face to Aspen’s. “This is gonna hurt a little, girl.”
It took an hour to remove all the quills. Carrie Ann kept the pup as calm as possible. She held her tight, and gently covering her eyes while speaking softly near her floppy ear. Summer took extra precautions, grasping each quill at the base and yanking it out in one rapid motion, making sure not to break the barbs off inside.
The painful process brought winces and tears to all three of them. After cleaning the wounds and filling the holes with ointment, Summer started a roaring fire. The large stone fireplace encompassed most of the wall, narrowing just above the thick slab mantel, and rising to the ceiling. Carrie Ann moved to a well-worn rocking chair recliner. She settled in, hanging her feet over the padded armrest. The tan leather molded to her body as it began to warm. Snuggling the exhausted pup to her chest, Carrie Ann thoroughly inspected Aspen’s nose and lips for any remaining fragments, hidden beneath the skin.
At some point before the de-quilling procedure, Summer changed into a pair of faded worn jeans and an espresso brown thermal shirt. He stared at the flames, one arm stretched out long, palm gripping the mantel. Remorse visible in the slouch of his shoulders. “I’m not sure if I need a drink or breakfast. That almost requires a shot of whiskey. Maybe even tequila.”
“If you want to hold her, I’ll make coffee. Got any Baileys?”
“Baileys and whiskey sounds good. I think I’ve got some behind the bar.”
“I’ll make breakfast too. I’ll blend whatever you’d like.”
Summer approached her, racking his fingers through his cropped hair. “Nah, you wanna hold onto her and I’ll fix something? What are you hungry…”
His words trailed off, studying the two girls cuddled in the rocking chair. Aspen sprawled out flat in the valley between her breasts, her battered nose nuzzled in the crook of Carrie Ann’s neck. Fine lines near the corner of his eyes softened. She noted a flicker of something, an unfamiliar emotion she’d never seen him wear before, clouding his eyes to the color of cognac. Her belly burned as if she’d already threw back a shot of whiskey.
“What?” she questioned warily in a hush.
The muscles of his throat forced a swallow. His gaze lingered over her legs. He paused, watching the movement of her feet, turning in small thoughtless circles. Summer’s mouth bowed south, shaking his head. “Nothing. No, I mean…it’s nothing, Red.”
Glimpsing downward, she took quick inspection. She was still wearing his shirt, and even though it was only buttoned twice near the tail of the shirt, all of her naughty parts remained covered. The opened front pulled over the dog like a blanket.
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
Seeming a bit entranced, he moved toward her, blindly reaching for a cashmere throw hanging over the couch and draping it over her bare legs.
“What,” she asked again.
“It’s just…you…you look beautiful.” His hand closed around her foot with a squeeze. “I mean really beautiful. Kind of…maternal or something with the dog laying there on your bare chest.”
Carrie Ann’s lip twitched. Her face scrunched into a grimace as if he’d just delivered the worst insult imaginable. A hint of queasiness twisted in her gut.
She had no idea how capable he was at reading her every expression. Sensing her sour reaction, he backtracked immediately, drawing both shoulders toward his ears.
“I don’t know where the fuck that just came from.” Summer gave a quick, self-justifying, shake of his head. “But, I know one thing for certain, you’ve never looked more beautiful to me.”
His words hit her like a gale force wind. She felt the color leaching from her face as a bitter arctic storm, brutal in its force, brewed inside. Her heart sinking so low she could feel her pulse clear down to her toes.