Page 32 of Must Love Mistletoe

Cal was thinking more along the lines of what Beth would say to him when her son returned home, having purchased a puppy. “Five bucks, you say.”

“And a bottle of whiskey.” Old Jim nodded sagely. “You’re buying potential.”

*

“Oh, you boughta horse,” Cal’s mother said when she saw them. “A dog and a horse.” But she didn’t ask why, and for that he was grateful.

“Can they come inside? And can we raid the dog gear box?”

“Long as they’re clean and dry. Would you look at the size of those paws!” The puppy had lolloped inside, and his mother had taken a step back. “Those are wolf paws.”

Surely not. “You’re kidding, right?” Cal inspected the pup. “Jim thought Maremma or Great Pyrenees. And this is the mother and she’s definitely a German shepherd mix.”

“She’s not the one I’m looking at.”

“That muzzle’s not wolf,” he offered in the hope his mother might agree with him.

“The eyes are.”

“This is Chessie,” Sam said, slinging his arm around his newfound shadow. “And the wolf horse is called Bo.”

Cal beamed at the boy’s understated valley humor. He’d never been so proud.

Later, after everyone had arrived for an informal lunch, and Christmas plans had been locked in, his mother pulled him aside. “Take the pup to a wolf rescue center, Cal, and get it tested.”

“Mom, that pup hasn’t put a foot wrong since he’s been here. And they’re big feet.”

“It’s a playful, friendly puppynow. It won’t always be. There’s wildness there. I’m serious.”

His mother had never given that kind of warning before. “I’ll look into it.”

She moved forward and fussed over Sam and both dogs as Cal shepherded them all out the door. The pup wriggled ecstatically and leaned into her petting, and she softened, just a little, but when she stood up, she stood resolute. “Do it soon.”

Chapter Eleven

Sam stared atthe vacant house at the end of the street on the outskirts of Marietta, and Beth wondered for the umpteenth time what her son was thinking. “You’ll be able to walk to school, or ride your bike. It’ll take ten minutes to get there, max.” She tried to inject cheerfulness into her voice, but her knuckles showed white on the steering wheel. Did she know what she was doing? Not just with Cal, but in her insistence that she and Sam would leave the ranch and live in town?

No and no.

And, yes, living in Marietta would make it harder for her and Cal to do… whatever they were doing, but she would have her own space, her own autonomy, in case nothing came of her current relationship. Dalliance. Wooing. Surely that was important?

And then there was Sam’s relationship with Cal these days to consider. Sam’s hero worship had cooled considerably since Beth and Cal had started going out.

This was the fourth house they’d looked at from the list the rental agent had given them, and the best by far. “It’s close to your friend Reggie’s place. What does it say on the listing?”

“Three bedroom.” Sam read from his phone. “Two bathroom, one garage, established garden—it was part of the old orchard belonging to that big house on the hill. This was the manager’s cottage. Wet room, old kitchen but it still looks newer than ours. Mom, it’s got wallpaper in the bedrooms. Big pink roses in one of the rooms, sailboats in another, and then dinosaurs.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Bad, Mom. Jeez! I’m not four, and you’re not into roses.”

“It has a nice porch.”

Sam studied the porch first and then the realtor’s picture of the porch. “Looks better in the pictures.”

“True.” Beth held back a sigh.

“If you marry Cal, we wouldn’t have to leave the ranch at all,” Sam muttered belligerently, and wow. Just wow.

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