He touched her face, curling his big hand around her cheek, feeling her shudder. Then he ran his index finger along her hairline.
“Date,” he said. “Most definitely.”
“Ethan,” she whispered.
“Shh.” Her pupils were so wide her eyes looked black and it seemed to him that they were trying to say something that he couldn’t understand.
But she touched his cheek in return, meeting his gaze, and when he kissed her, it was like a thunderstorm, fireworks and a warm blanket on a cold night, all at once. Her tongue touched his and he pulled her tighter, wanting to drink her in, devour her, surround her, keep her safe for the rest of her life and let her do the same for him.
A date? Hells, yeah. What had taken them so long?
Suddenly Gun let out a low growl.
“Gun,” he murmured against Carrie’s lips. “Not now.”
He felt Carrie smile. “First things first.”
Gun stiffened, then whined, then growled, more urgently this time.
Ethan looked up, alarmed now. Surely not another bear.
“What is it, buddy?” The dog twisted his head and barked twice. A warning.
“Ethan?” whispered Carrie. Tension rippled from her body. She’d no doubt had the same thought he had.
Then, there, he saw it. A pair of yellow ears, peeking up from the tall grass at the edge of the woods.
“It’s a dog,” he whispered back, pointing. “There. See it?”
A small Labrador retriever cross, he guessed.
“Oh, thank God,” said Carrie, following their gazes.
Ethan looked around for an owner, but could see no one nearby. The dog kept watching them, ears up, neither fleeing nor approaching. Careful.
Carrie pulled out her camera and snapped a rapid series. “So we can put up posters, if it’s a stray.”
“Amanda mentioned a stray dog that had bothered her kid. Maybe this is the one.”
“Should we try and catch him?” asked Carrie.
Her concern touched him.
“Let me get this guy inside first,” he said, hoisting Gun into his arms. “Any meat left?”
“I was going to send it in with Gun.”
The shepherd growled again and the yellow stray drew back, then slunk away into the bush.
“We can get more for Gun later. If this is the stray that’s been causing trouble, he needs to be caught. For the good of everyone.”
They found the dog’s hiding spot: a rusted-out camper top that someone had abandoned in the park rather than take to the dump.
At the back, pressed hard against the cracked fiberglass, was the stray.
Oh, damn.
“Oh, mama,” he said on a breath.
“Oh, baby,” said Carrie.
The dog cringed away but didn’t growl. She eyed the meat in Ethan’s hand and licked her lips. At her side, squirming and mewling, were four newborn puppies.
Chapter Sixteen
‡
They brought the mother dog and her babies to Doc Morrow. Once inside, the stray proved to be well-mannered and friendly, hovering closely as they handled the puppies, but showing no aggression. She’d been on her own for some time, according to the ribs showing through her scruffy fur. The pads on her feet had heavy calluses, like she’d traveled a long way to find a safe place for her babies, and Carrie’s heart went out to her.
“If they’re all healthy,” said Ethan, “I’ll bring them back to my place. While we wait to find the owner.”
“If you want,” said the veterinarian, shaking his head. “But you may never find the owner. She’s got no tags, tattoo or microchip, no way of tracking her.”
Despite the mother dog’s sweet, trusting nature, they knew that the chances of her being adopted were slim. Puppies got adopted. Not adult dogs with questionable histories.
Still, they hoped.
The next day, Carrie contacted everyone she could think of, taped posters displaying the dog’s photo to lamp posts in front of the grocery store, the coffee shop, the diner, and broadcast fliers throughout parking lots.
That poor dog giving birth alone and hungry. It was so wrong. Carrie sat back in her quiet studio, wishing there was something more she could do.
Then she had an idea. They’d bring her to the festival. Everyone from town would be there. Surely if Dixie’s owner was local, they’d be able to reconnect them. Or if not that, find her a new family.