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Chapter 1
Rae
“Whatdoyoumeanyou lost my dog?” Tears threatened to fall despite my best effort to hold them back. I could handle a lot. Shit, I had handled a lot. In the last week, more shit had come my way than most people dealt with in years.
And I’d not broken once.
No, I’d maintained my composure. Done what needed to get done without losing it. Tears weren’t my thing. I was asmile until you can’t smile anymorekind of gal.
I didn’t cry or scream bloody murder once in the last week.
Not when my boyfriend of over a decade walked into our downtown Chicago apartment and announced we were breaking up. Not when I learned he was already dating agirlhalf my age. Not when my boss demoted me. Not when I quit my job in response to the demotion. And not when I’d had to pay an exorbitant amount of money to get all seventeen of my suitcases flown to Austin.
But the woman at the Dallas airport baggage counter telling me she lost my dog was the final straw. I couldn’t lose Georgie. He, more than Matthew, was the love of my life.
“We’re doing everything we can,” the gate agent offered. She looked and sounded sincere, but this wasn’t a Samsonite; it was a living, breathing animal. My Georgie.
“They made me check him in Omaha; something about weight capacity. Which I don’t understand; he only weighs thirteen pounds.” My words rushed out, tripping over each other, fighting out past a sob lodged in my throat. I couldn’t recall the last time I cried, but I was about to go full waterworks on the baggage lady.
He had an implanted microchip. Could the airport find him using it? I should have put a Bluetooth finder tag thing on his collar. Why didn’t I think of that until now? I was an awful dog mom.
“Thirteen?” The agent’s eyebrows shot up. “Not a hundred and thirteen?”
“Only thirteen pounds. He’s a Maltese.” I pulled out my phone and flashed Georgie’s photo at the agent. The picture showed him celebrating his last title win, best in show at the Lake Forest Kennel Club. My beautiful boy. He looked so adorable sitting in the big silver trophy.
The agent clutched at her jaunty neck scarf like it was choking her, picked up a walkie-talkie, and spun away so she could hiss a very adamant conversation into it without me overhearing.
I rested my arms on the counter and plopped my head down on top. I should have waited to get a direct flight instead of hopscotching from Chicago to Omaha to Dallas to Austin. But I knew I had to leave right then, or my mother would’ve kept me in Peoria forever. I’d be like a basement-dwelling oddity trotted out for social occasions—the middle-aged spinster daughter.
“Ma’am, I’m hoping you can help me.” The deep voice held more than a hint of a Texas drawl and sent actual shivers down my spine.
Despite everything, I lifted my head to see the man who sounded like velvet. No red-blooded heterosexual woman could ignore that baritone.
The cowboy held a Stetson against his long denim-clad leg. My gaze lingered on his work-roughened fingers where they pinched the cream straw hat. A real man’s hands. He stood at least six foot three, and his broad shoulders looked like they’d never fit in the coach seat I’d been in on the flight here.
Tan skin. Salt and pepper hair. Lean hips that hugged lovingly by a pair of jeans with knife-sharp creases ironed down the front. If the casting people for Yellowstone got a look at this cowboy, they’d hire him in an instant.
“I’m missing a case about yea big.” He pantomimed something about two feet by three feet. “It’s time-sensitive, filled with a perishable commodity.”
“Perishable?” the other baggage agent asked, not sounding particularly interested.
“Bull semen.”
I coughed to cover my gasp. I’d not expected to hear him, or anyone, say that at the third largest airport in the world.
“Good news. We’ve found your dog.” My agent held the walkie-talkie pressed to her chest.
“Oh, that is so wonderful.” I pressed a hand to my fluttering heart. “Where?” I couldn’t wait to snuggle my little man again. A smile stretched my lips and chased away the near tears. Elation made me want to dance right there in the dingy office.
“There was a mix-up with baggage tags. Your dog’s carrier had the tags for a Great Dane and vice versa. So, we’re fixing that right now. If you’ll have a seat over there, I’ll get him out to you as soon as I can.” The baggage agent pointed to a low bench under a poster that advertised Caribbean vacations. A sad red, white, and blue bunting had been draped on the frame in honor of the Fourth of July holiday tomorrow.
I took my seat; the cowboy joined me a few minutes later. He sat, crossed his ankle over his knee, and balanced the hat on his leg. His hands again caught my attention. No wedding ring.
“I feel like I’m waiting to be called into the principal’s office,” I said without preamble.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I turned and waited for him to say more. Nothing. Huh. Strong, silent type. Fits with the persona.
