Love Lies Bleeding (17 page)
“Damn it,” she exclaimed, kicking a rock down the road.
With reluctance, she turned and started toward Sam’s cabin. The sound of barking and a woman’s laugh stopped her. Sam? Whirling, she took off at a run toward Greg’s.
The sight she saw in Greg’s small side yard stopped her dead. Sam sat in a lawn chair underneath a shade tree while Greg leaned nonchalantly against its trunk—both of them watching the dogs, Roxy and Molly, cavort around the yard. The expression Greg wore reminded Anne of a proud father witnessing his child’s antics.
Rolling her eyes, Anne walked to the gate and, opening it, entered the yard. “I told you to stay put,” she said, her words echoing her irritation.
“I—” Sam began, but Greg cut her off.
“It’s good that she didn’t, Anne. She rescued Roxy from Teddy Brighton.”
Anne’s eyes flared. “What?”
Sam gave her a shy nod. “I don’t know if I really rescued her—Greg was the one who ran them off.”
Greg laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder, and Anne noticed that she didn’t flinch. “Teddy and Joey Wiggins were throwing rocks at her, but Sam stopped them long enough for me to get out here.”
“Where were you?”
He jerked his head toward the lake. “Down at the dock. I’d gone down to check the moorings on my boat. I only intended to be gone a short time, but then Duane Parker came by with a stringer of fish.” He frowned. “I shouldn’t have left Roxy alone. I got back in time to see Sam squaring off with the two of them.”
“Have you called the Brightons and the Wigginses’?”
His frown deepened. “Not yet, but I will. Joey’s basically a good kid, but Teddy’s a bad influence. And once Joey’s dad finds out about this, I think Teddy’s going to be looking for a new friend.” He gave a derisive snort. “He was the last kid on the lake whose parents would allow him to hang out with Teddy.”
Anne walked to a lawn chair next to Sam’s and sat. “Caleb said Teddy had friends from the Cities with him.”
“Humph, not anymore,” Greg said. “They got caught buzzing the loons’ nesting area with their Jet Skis, and Irene sent his friends packing.” He picked up a ball and tossed it to Molly. “I suppose now he’s bored and looking for trouble.”
Anne thought of her suspicions regarding Teddy. No friends, left to find ways to amuse himself—yup, in that kid’s mind, wandering around the lake at night, stirring up trouble would be a great idea. She decided not to mention her conjectures to Greg. He was pissed, and she knew he’d be giving Irene an earful about her grandson’s behavior. If they were lucky, she’d send Teddy packing, too.
Roxy, tired of no longer being the center of attention, grabbed a ball and shoved it on Sam’s lap. Backing up, she stood perfectly still, waiting. Only her eyes moved—first to the ball, then to Sam’s face.
With a laugh, Sam took the ball and held it high. “Oh, so you want this, do you?”
Excited, Roxy began to dance in circles.
With another laugh, Sam threw the ball, and Roxy flew after it, her back paws throwing grass in the air. Catching it midair, she trotted back to Sam and, with a sigh, plopped down on Sam’s feet. Sam bent and scratched her ears, earning her a look of pure adoration from the dog.
Watching Roxy and Sam play, Greg suddenly gave a wide grin. “I think Sam should adopt Roxy.”
“Huh?” Anne’s head whipped toward him.
From what she’d learned about Samantha Moore, Sam’s life was all about her work. Not the best candidate for a dog owner.
Greg read the disbelief on her face. “Oh, come on, Anne, you’ve used my dogs in your therapy before.”
“Yeah,” she spluttered, “to help with the patient’s exercises. No one has ever adopted one.”
Anne looked over at Sam petting Roxy. Her face held a slight smile as she stroked the dog’s head, and her body, normally tight with tension whenever she was outside the safety of her cabin, was relaxed.
“What do you think, Sam?” Anne asked.
“I’ve never had a pet,” Sam said, straightening. “It might be fun.” She glanced down at Roxy, lying at her feet. “She’s had it tough . . . I think I can give her a good home.”
“What would you do with her once you return to the city? You live in an apartment, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’ll be moving into Jackson’s family home. It’s big and in a wooded area. There’d be plenty of room for her to run around.”
“What about Jackson? How will he feel about you adopting her?”
Sam shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “He likes dogs,” she said, reaching down and patting Roxy’s head. At Sam’s touch, the dog rolled over on her back for a tummy scratch. Laughing, Sam gave her what she wanted.
Dr. Van Horn might be fond of dogs, Anne thought, but he struck her as the type who’d want his pet to have a pedigree dating back to the beginning of time, with at least a few show champions thrown in for good measure.
“When would you adopt her? When you go back to the city?”
Sam looked at Anne with a devilish glint in her eye. “Why not today? I can take her back with me now. Greg told me that the shelter picked up two more dogs that need fostering. If I take Roxy, he’d have room for them.”
Anne held up her hand. “Wait a second—you can’t go ‘poof, I’ve got a dog.’ You need to think about this. They’re a responsibility.” She looked over her shoulder at Greg for help. “They need training, discipline, food, bedding—isn’t that right, Greg?”
“What Roxy needs right now is love and a home.” He placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I think Sam is more than capable of giving her that.”
Sam preened at his words. There wasn’t even a shadow of the cranky, embittered woman Anne had seen over the past weeks.
Greg continued. “I can drop over some dog food and Roxy’s bed later.” His hand fell away from Sam’s shoulder. “They can have the weekend to get better acquainted, then next week I’ll help Sam with Roxy’s training.”
Training? Visions of piles and puddles scattered throughout the cabin and herself armed with a roll of paper towels and a bottle of disinfectant flashed through Anne’s mind. Her eyes narrowed. “She
is
housebroken, isn’t she?”
Greg’s laugh rang out as he squatted next to the dog and took her head in his hands. “Yes,” he said emphatically. “You’re a proper lady, aren’t you, Roxy?”
A swipe of the tongue was her answer.
A short time later, the three of them headed back to Sam’s cabin. Anne still wasn’t convinced that adopting Roxy was the best idea, but she had to acknowledge the bond Sam and the dog had already formed. Roxy pranced happily at Sam’s side, never getting too far away. It was as if she understood Sam’s limitations. When they neared the cabin, Anne spotted Jackson sitting on the porch, drinking a glass of wine.
Seeing them, he placed his glass on the railing and bounded off the porch. He halted abruptly when he noticed the dog. Taking in Roxy’s bald spots, her thin appearance, his face hardened. “What in the hell is that?” he asked, pointing.
At the sound of his harsh voice, Roxy rushed away from Sam’s side and threw herself in front of Sam, barking.
“Quiet!” Jackson yelled.
Roxy barked louder.
Sam bent, placing a hand on Roxy’s head. “Shh, shh,” she soothed. “It’s okay. He won’t hurt you.” She lifted her eyes and glared at her fiancé. “You frightened her.” Returning her attention to Roxy, she continued murmuring soft words until the dog calmed. “There,” she said with satisfaction, “she’s fine now.”
Even though the dog quieted, she refused to relinquish her protective position between Jackson and Sam.
“What are you doing with that dog?” Jackson asked, struggling to keep his voice even.
Sam straightened and squared her shoulders. “I’m adopting her.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he sputtered. “Look at her—she’s mangy—”
“She is not,” Sam huffed in a voice that reminded Anne of a mother defending her child. “She may have a couple of bald spots, but her fur’s growing back.”
“Sam, honey,” he wheedled, “if you want a dog, let’s get one from a breeder.”
I knew it,
Anne thought.
“No,” Sam said with a lift of her chin. “I want this one.”
“She’s a mutt.”
“But she’s
my
mutt.”
“Samantha—”
“Anne,” Sam interrupted, handing her Roxy’s leash, “would you please take Roxy inside while I explain the situation to Jackson?”
“Sure thing,” she replied, grasping the leash and giving it a light tug. “Come on, Roxy.”
The dog looked up at Sam and refused to budge.
“It’s okay,” Sam said softly as she gave Roxy a quick pat.
Slowly the dog followed Anne, glancing back at Sam. Once inside, Roxy planted herself by the screen door and stared out at Sam and Jackson.
With a chuckle, Anne smiled at the dog. “I don’t blame you—I want to see this, too,” she said, crossing to the kitchen window and pretending to be busy at the counter. She wasn’t an expert on body language, but she didn’t have to be to tell what was going on in the front yard. Jackson stood with his hands on his hips, leaning forward while he made his case. Sam faced him, her head high and her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Whatever he was selling, she wasn’t buying it. Finally, Jackson nodded, gave Sam a hug, and took off down the road.
A smile of satisfaction wreathed Sam’s face as she made her slow progress the remainder of the way to the cabin while Roxy’s tail thumped a steady beat on the floor.
Turning, Anne grinned at the dog. “Looks like you’re home.”
The next morning, Anne stood with Sam in the third clothing store they’d visited. For a woman who’d been uncomfortable leaving her cabin, Sam seemed to have made a rapid recovery. Anne didn’t know if it was from winning the argument with Jackson or rescuing Roxy, but she had a new confidence about her.
A thousand questions filtered through Anne’s head and she’d pondered all morning how to ask them. Finally, she spit one out.
“Not to be snoopy, but what happened between you and Jackson after I went inside with the dog?”
Sam glanced away from the white knit top she was holding up. “With Jackson?” she asked, shaking her head and placing the top back on the rack.
Anne nodded.
“Not much,” she replied, examining a navy-blue shirt. “He agreed that I could keep her.” She grimaced. “But I might get a call today from my father.”
Anne thought about how happy Sam seemed when she was with Roxy. “You’re not going to let your dad talk you out of adopting the dog, are you?”
“Absolutely not,” Sam said vehemently. “She might not be the designer dog he’ll think I should have, but I don’t care. She’s mine.”
“Um—” Anne began, “why did you want to drop her off at Greg’s before we came shopping?”
Sam moved over to the next rack of shirts. “I’m sure Jackson and Roxy would’ve been fine,” she rushed to say, “but they didn’t exactly bond last night. Roxy was really skittish around him. Besides, at Greg’s, she’ll have Molly to play with.” She ran her hand down one of the tops.
“What are you going to do if that doesn’t change?”
“It will. They’ll get used to each other eventually and I’m sure Jackson will grow to love her, but for now . . .” Her voice trailed away.
Anne wasn’t so sure, but she kept her opinion to herself as she busied herself looking at a price tag. These clothes weren’t high end, but even so, she couldn’t afford them. She dropped the tag and moved to the next rack. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d bought something for herself. Necessities always came before desires, but someday . . .
Sam suddenly turned, breaking into her thoughts. “I’m not finding anything here either.”
Anne bowed her head and sighed. “The only store left is one that handles used clothing.”
Sam perked up. “Vintage?”
“I don’t know if you’d call it vintage,” Anne replied with a chuckle, “but it’s the only store left.”
Five minutes later, Anne found herself going through the dress rack at the used-clothing store with Sam.
Grabbing one of the garments, Sam held it against her body. The light lavender dress, covered with tiny, dark violet flowers, had a fitted bodice and a skirt that floated down to her knees.
“What do you think?”
Anne looked down at her shorts and T-shirt. “I’m not exactly a fashion plate—I think you’d better ask one of the clerks their opinion.”
“You’re certainly tall enough to be in fashion,” Sam answered with a grin. “You could’ve been a model.”
Anne felt herself blanch and turned quickly away. “Oh, look at these,” she said, swiftly changing the subject. She picked up a dark purple shawl, lying on a table near the dresses. “How would this look with that dress?”
Sam took the shawl. “Terrific. I’ll take it.” She started to move away, but stopped. Moving to a rack of tops, she picked out an ice-blue tunic and held it up to Anne. “This looks great with your blond hair and blue eyes. You should get it.”
“What? No,” Anne said, with a shake of her head as she took the hanger from Sam, meaning to place it back on the rack. She paused and her fingers played over the slinky material. Silk, it had to be silk. She stroked the material with longing. She had never owned anything this nice.
Sam glanced at the price tag. “It’s a real steal—only seventy-five.”
“Seventy-five
dollars
?” Anne quickly moved to hang the tunic back on the rack. “That’s about seventy-five more than I have to spend on something I’d probably never wear.”
“I’ll buy it for you,” Sam said, and grabbed the hanger from Anne. Turning, she headed for the counter. Anne’s hand shot out, stopping her.
“No you won’t,” she stated in a flat voice.
“Why not?”
“I don’t need your charity.”
“It’s not charity.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s
not
.” Sam pulled away, still clutching the tunic. “I’m buying it, so quit arguing.” Her face softened. “Look, I know I’ve been difficult. Getting this for you is a way to make up for it.” She smiled. “Maybe then you won’t think I’m such a bitch.”
Anne lifted her chin. “My regard can’t be bought.”
Sam’s brows shot up and she eyed Anne with a smug look. “I know. And frankly, if it were for sale, I wouldn’t want it.”
