Page 247 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

Einstein must’ve heard the cars and her laughter—her corgi was old, not deaf—because he started barking at the door. Chaco, the little mutt she was fostering at home and leaning toward keeping, joined him.

“You know about the shelter, so surely this won’t come as a surprise,” she said to Jack, “but I have dogs.”

“I would expect nothing less,” he said. “How many do you have?” He grinned. “Five? Ten? Tell me you’re not a hoarder.”

“Just two at the moment,” she said. “My dog, Einstein, is getting up there in years, and he’s a grumpy old man. He doesn’t like other dogs hanging around, but he tolerates Chaco because she’s smaller than him.”

She grabbed the belt loops of his borrowed jeans and pulled him closer.

Their faces inches apart, she said, “We’re about to test your animal whispering skills on something other than geese.”

She was referring to the dogs, sort of, but she also wanted to see what magic he could work on her.

He spanned the distance between them and kissed her, a hungry kiss that promised things she very much wanted. She was the one who pulled away.

“Let’s go inside.”

But she kept her fingers in his belt loops, because she wanted to, and he slid his arm around her, bringing his hand to rest at the small of her back. The heat that pulsed from it promised of things to come.

As they walked toward the door, Jack looked at the house, taking it in with the same intensity he seemed to approach everything.

“Big house for just the three of you,” he commented. And even though he didn’t know, had no way of knowing, it still felt like a blow.

“It’s the house I grew up in,” she said simply. Becausemy parents are deadwasn’t exactly sexy talk.

Something told her that he might understand. That life had shoveled plenty of crap on him too. But that wasn’t what this was about.

He looked at her but didn’t say anything. It was like he was leaving her space to talk if she felt like it. That wasn’t Maisie’s way—if she wanted to know, she usually asked. But it was kind of nice, his discretion.

They reached the couple of steps leading up to the door, and Maisie put a hand on his chest—his incredibly firm chest. “Fair warning. You may have some sort of talent with animals,but Einstein doesn’t like men, especially men I bring home. I’m going to take him out to the clubhouse.”

Part of her wanted to see if her dog liked Jack—given his ability with that goose, with Jezebel, it seemed possible—but she also didn’t want Einstein to latch on to his ankle or stand at his feet barking up at him. It wouldn’t exactly create a good impression, or contribute to the mood.

“You have a clubhouse for the dogs?” he asked, the corners of his mouth hitching up.

“It used to be for humans, but now it’s just me. It would be kind of absurd to go out there by myself to, what, play solitaire?” She shrugged. “The dogs like it, and it gives me space for fosters if Einstein takes issue with them.” But she remembered how it used to be, back when there were other people here, and it made her ache to think about it.

This was why she didn’t bring men home much. Usually she went over to their places. That way she could leave whenever she wanted, and they couldn’t see more of her life than she cared to show. But Jack lived with Adalia, and although Adalia was almost certainly going to be at Finn’s house tonight, there was no way she wanted to answer the kind of questions she’d be asked if she tried to sneak out of the Buchanan house and found her friend in the kitchen drinking coffee.

“I’d want a clubhouse if I were a dog,” Jack said, straight-faced.

It was an absurd statement, and it made her smile at him, pulling her away from her thoughts of the house and its history.

“Of course you would,” she said. “Who wouldn’t want a clubhouse?”

He nodded to the door. “I’m ready if you are.”

The door was mostly glass, and she could see both of the dogs behind it. Einstein was barking louder now, his shrill bark—thekind he reserved for strangers—but Chaco had stopped barking and was wagging her tail maniacally.

“I leave Chaco to you,” she said. “She’s a bit of a sucker, and I think she’s already in love.”

She let go of him and opened the door, immediately swooping down and grabbing Ein. He stopped barking for long enough to lick her hand and then her face, but he immediately turned back toward Jack and let out a low growl. Apparently, Jack’s magic didn’t extend to slightly geriatric dogs. Or maybe the spell would simply take longer to set in. Ein was stubborn. He was a bit like her, which was one of the reasons she’d recognized he was her soul companion.

Jack had leaned down to Chaco, who instantly started licking his face, fuzzy tail wagging even faster.

He was speaking softly to her, his voice too low for Maisie to hear, and something about his gentleness moved her in a way she hadn’t expected. In a way she wasn’t supposed to feel about a prospective one-night stand.

He sang to geese and whispered sweet nothings to puppies. This man had hidden layers she’d only begun to tap, and part of her wanted to dig deep.

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