Once Tasted: A Silver Creek Novel (27 page)

“I’m glad Quinn asked me to come along. It’s a great thing you do.”

Marsha smiled wearily. “We try. But when times are hard and money’s tight, pets are often the first to suffer. We’re seeing too many given up.”

The dogs had calmed as Quinn began going from crate to crate, giving a scratch and a hello in her low-pitched voice.

Not sure what she was supposed to do, Mia looked around the brightly lit room. Far too many of the steel cages were occupied with dogs of every shape and size. One immediately caught her attention. She didn’t know why—perhaps it was because it was the biggest dog there, perhaps because it was looking at her rather than tracking Quinn’s movements. When their gazes met, it gave a single, loud bark. Its tail thwacked the sides of the crate.

The dog barked again. Its massive body shivered
with excitement, making its shaggy white-and-brown-splotched coat ripple.

Quinn noticed—Mia swore she noticed everything in an animal. “He likes you.”

“What makes you say that? Maybe he just wants out of the crate.”

“For sure. But he’s talking to you about it, not to Marsha or me, two humans he knows far better. For some reason it’s you Bruno wants to spring him.”

“Bruno? That’s his name?”

Marsha walked by with a terrier of some sort. It was straining on the leash. She made it sit. “Yup. We decided ‘Bruno’ suited him, and he seems to agree. He was left tied to a door overnight. He was a real mess, half-starved and dehydrated. He quaked with fear when I approached, but he never growled or bared his teeth once.”

“What an awful story.” Mia swore that when she looked over at Bruno he cocked his head as if listening. Then he gave another bark, his eyes on her the entire time.

“All the dogs and cats who end up here have heartbreaking stories, but, yeah, Bruno’s is pretty sad. I can’t understand how humans can be so fucking cruel—pardon my language—to neglect the animals in their care.”

“Forgiven. I’d be swearing, too, if I had to face this every day.”

Marsha grinned. “We’re going to have to sign you up for regular visits. By the way, I agree with Quinn: Bruno does seem to like you. Why don’t you take him outside to the exercise yard? This is his regular play group that we’re bringing out.”

“Me?”

“Sure. He’s been here two weeks, so he knows the routine. And he’s been a perfect gentleman with every
volunteer. Haven’t you, Bruno?” Marsha addressed him affectionately before continuing. “He’s young—I’d say two at most—but he understands ‘sit’ and ‘down.’ We’ve been teaching him ‘wait.’ The collar and leash we use for him are there.” She pointed to the right of the crate. “Don’t worry, Quinn will supervise your every move.”

Mia picked up the collar and leash and got a woof of encouragement for her effort. She eyed Bruno through the metal grate. She liked dogs. Thomas and Ellen had one—a dachshund named Cork—but he’d died when Mia was still little. Other than patting Quinn’s dog, Sooner, and the ones she encountered in town, Mia didn’t have a lot of adult experience with them.

“Tell him to sit and wait before you open the crate door,” Quinn suggested. “And don’t make it into a question—it’s a firm command.”

“Sit, Bruno.”

Bruno sat.

Stunned, Mia looked over at Quinn, who grinned. Then she looked back at Bruno, who grinned even wider, showing lots of teeth and an impossibly long tongue. “Wait,” she said, waiting herself before opening the latch.

Only his white tail with its brown tip moved, sweeping the bottom of the crate.

She reached inside and put the nylon collar around his massive neck and fastened it, noting as she did the unbelievable silkiness of his coat. The leash was already attached to the collar.

“Tell him ‘good boy’ and ‘okay’—that’s his release from ‘wait.’ You can follow me and Lucky here, who’s not nearly as well behaved.”

Indeed, Mia felt ridiculously proud of Bruno as they walked behind Quinn and a madly baying beagle,
which grew only more berserk as they entered the fenced enclosure.

Quinn had Lucky sit and then unleashed him. He took off, barking at everything he saw. “Marsha’s going to have to find Lucky a human who’s deaf as a post and lives far from any neighbors,” she said. “It’s your turn now. Use the same commands with him as before.”

Mia followed suit and with a smile watched Bruno bound off happily to say hi to the other dogs, pee, and then recommence the meet and greet. “Why has no one adopted Bruno? He’s a nice dog.”

Marsha answered the question. “He’s big. Even out in the country here, people are generally looking for smaller dogs, sixty to seventy pounds, max. Bruno puts away a serious amount of kibble, and that cuts into people’s budgets. And he sheds. A lot. He’s got an incredibly thick coat, which has to be brushed regularly. Not many people want to deal with it.”

She knew the trials of having too much hair. But Bruno’s coat was beautiful. Taking care of it wouldn’t be that hard.

Finished playing, the dog came trotting back to the center of the enclosure, where the women stood. Mia had expected that Bruno would do the dog thing and sniff the humans and then race back to his four-legged friends. Instead, he made straight for her and sat down next to her, so that his body brushed her pant leg. His white head, framed by matching brown ears, reached her hip.

She looked down in bemusement and stroked his forehead lightly. He looked up adoringly. His brown eyes, which had a touch of caramel in them, seemed so soulful.

Okay, she was in serious trouble here. “Quinn, why don’t you take Bruno? He’s really great.”

“He is, no doubt about it. But I can’t make the commitment
to foster a dog until I place Alfie in a good home. That may take a while, since he’s a pretty special parrot. And if I adopt another dog it has to be a herder, a second lieutenant to Sooner. Whatever wonderful cocktail Bruno is—”

“What would you say he is?” Mia interrupted. “I’ve never seen a dog that looks anything like him.”

“Off the top of my head?” Quinn stepped back to study him.

“I’d say he’s got Saint Bernard, golden retriever, and setter in him. What do you think, Marsha?”

Marsha pressed her index finger to her lips as she considered. “Yeah, he could have Saint Bernard in him. Or maybe a Great Pyrenees came along. The rest of his ancestry could range from a collie to a hound breed.”

Listening to them, it struck Mia that Bruno had even more unknowns in his family tree than she did—and look how spectacular he was.

Marsha was still speaking. “But Quinn’s right: Even if Bruno does have some collie or sheepdog in him, he’s not wired or built for rounding up sheep or stubborn cattle.”

“Bruno’s a people dog. Aren’t you, big guy?” Quinn asked, affection in her voice.

The dog thumped his tail.

“How about you, Mia?”

Still pondering the mysteries of parentage, she gave a start. “Me? What do you mean?”

“You could take Bruno home.”

“Oh, I couldn’t adopt—” Her words were cut short by Bruno. He shifted, extending his front paws to lie down in front of her. With a deep sigh that had his ribs heaving, he settled his chin over her shoes, and she felt the warm weight of him through the canvas of her sneakers.

Quinn laughed. “He’s got some smooth moves, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does.” Mia smiled wryly.

And, like that, she was a goner.

Two hours later, Bruno sat wedged between Quinn and her. His new extra-large bed, his food and water bowls, and a thirty-pound bag of dog food that Quinn and Marsha had recommended were stacked in the flatbed of the truck. Mia was still dazed by how fast she’d fallen for the massive canine and how quickly he’d become hers. She was excited and more than a little terrified.

Bruno, however, was taking it all in stride. He seemed perfectly content to gaze through the windshield and watch the road. Every so often he’d turn his head and give Mia’s jaw a sloppy sweep of his tongue as if to reassure her.

“Hey, Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you suppose it’s because I look like Bruno’s previous owner?” she asked, after he’d bathed the side of her face once again.

“Why he chose you, you mean? Could be,” Quinn said with a shrug. “Although if I had to lay a wager, I’d say he simply likes you. In case you haven’t figured it out, Mia, you’re kind of amazing. Dogs sense goodness in people.” She shot Mia a grin. “But judging from what I saw earlier this morning, it ain’t just overgrown hairy dogs who are attracted to you.”

Mia fiddled with the end of Bruno’s brand-new red nylon leash. It matched his collar, which already had a metal tag with her name and number fixed to it. The rescue shelter had a machine that engraved them. She’d chosen one in the shape of a large bone. “Quinn,” she
began, her voice tentative. “Are you okay with, you know, Reid and me?”

“You’re kidding, right?” she laughed. “I’m really happy for you guys.”

“Even after what I said about him?”

“What was that?” Quinn frowned. Then her brow cleared and she laughed again. “Oh, yeah, you mean the great chocolate theory, the one where Reid lives a chocoholic’s dream, devouring dessert carts filled with éclairs and fudge brownies and then walking away in search of the next dessert tray?”

“I believe my view was slightly more nuanced than that,” she said, fighting a smile.

Quinn snorted. “Not much. If you recall, I blew some major elephant-sized holes in your argument. I’m just glad that whatever ideas you had about Reid, they didn’t stop you from getting together with him.”

“Your brother can be pretty persuasive.” And happened to be one of the sexiest men alive.

Quinn’s smile was full of pride. “Yeah, he’s got a way about him.” She was silent for a minute, braking and then turning left onto Bartlett Road. “But, Mia,” she continued, her voice now serious. “Even though he may be treating you like the most mind-blowingly decadent brownie ever baked, don’t go deciding that’s all there is to him. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“I won’t hurt him, Quinn.” An easy promise to make. Because if anyone was vulnerable to heartbreak, it was she, not Reid.

S
HE HAD A
new dog; she had a vineyard filled with ripening purple fruit and the promise of a terrific harvest; she had a lover whose gaze seared, whose touch melted, and whose kiss transported her. These were the ingredients to a happiness the likes of which Mia had never known.

Two weeks had floated by with the ease of a puffy cloud drifting across a cerulean sky. Every so often Mia would bring her fingers to her forearm and give herself a hard pinch. Weird but necessary. Amazingly, the pinch didn’t cause her world to darken with sadness. Worry and insecurity didn’t loom threateningly on the horizon. And the reason for Mia’s continued internal sunshine? The man kneeling on the grass next to an ecstatic, tongue-lolling Bruno.

Reid had arrived a few hours ago with another of Daniel’s mammoth tractors to level the ground outside the winery. The company Reid had told her about would be coming tomorrow to lay the stone slabs. The chairs and tables were due to be delivered next week.

So many of her dreams were coming together, and every day she grew more excited and optimistic.

Again, it was thanks to Reid.

She knew that, without him, she’d have been lying wide-eyed in bed in the wee hours of the morning, plagued by visions of torrential rains flooding the vineyard, turning her perfect grapes into water balloons. Before any nightmare could ensnare Mia, Reid’s arms unerringly found her, pulling her into the solid warmth of his muscled body and lending her his quiet strength.

Instinctively, her eyes sought him out. He was still busy bonding with Bruno, scratching the dog’s belly. And Bruno, on his back, his front legs folded, his hind legs splayed, his long tail swishing rhythmically in the grass, was shameless in his plea that Reid continue his efforts into the next decade.

As Mia had quickly discovered, in Bruno’s world only one thing topped having his tummy scratched, and that was having it filled with food. He was a walking vacuum cleaner.

Mia watched them in quiet bafflement. How had these two males become so central to her life? She didn’t know which was more improbable, that Reid, the womanizing cowboy who’d previously only looked through her, now seemed the person who saw and understood her better than anyone else, or that an oversize white-and-brown mutt had snuck into her heart with little more than a bark and an adoring doggie grin?

Reid must have felt the weight of her gaze, Bruno too lost in the pleasure of a good belly rub to notice. He looked up with a grin. “What?”

Reid’s hair had grown even shaggier, its gold-streaked ends brushing the neck of his white T-shirt. The short sleeves exposed tanned skin and roped muscles. Watching them flex as Reid stroked Bruno’s silky fur, Mia felt a hot twitchy awareness spread low inside her. If he were to touch her like that right now, she’d be as shameless and greedy as her dog.

“Earth to Mia,” he said.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, and blushed, unsure how long she’d been staring at him. “I was just wondering how I ended up with a dog,” she said, voicing only part of her thoughts. “Your sister pulled a fast one on me, inviting me to the shelter.”