Yes, she was prickly. And very proper yet, he still found himself liking her. Maybe it was the challenge she presented. He’d like to see if he could make her bend, just a little. Maybe smile. And laugh. He'd bet his fancy saddle she had a great laugh.
He helped her down, then walked around to the back of the wagon to get the crates.
Behind him, she drew in her breath loudly, almost a gasp but not quite. “It’s a wolf.”
Before he could react, he felt the impact of her body against his back.
He turned quickly, wrapping his arms around her for a moment before pushing her behind him—and came face to face with a…dog. Granted, Reckless was a rather big dog, its fur gray and white, like a wolf. He could see where she might think it wassomething it was not. He laughed softly then stopped himself, not wishing to embarrass her. “That’s not a wolf.”
“It’s not?” She moved a little so she could see, though her hands were still on his waist.
“No.” He whistled. The ‘wolf’ trotted over to him and sat on his haunches, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, ears upright and twitching. “This is Reckless. He belongs to Julia Applebaum, though why he’s all the way over here, I don’t know. He must have gotten loose.”
“Are you sure he’s not a wolf?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Hold out your hand. He’s friendly.”
Sheridan hesitated until he took her hand from his waist and held it out. “Let him smell you.”
She did, though he could feel her tension and her fear. It fairly radiated around her as the dog sniffed her gloved hand. He could feel that stiffness leave her when she took a step out from behind him and rubbed her hand over the dog’s head. “He seems very sweet.”
“Ask him to shake.”
She turned her head to look at him and he caught a glimpse of pure pleasure in her eyes, though she still didn’t smile. He wished she would. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
She held out her hand. “Shake.”
The dog lifted his paw and placed it in her hand. She shook it with all the dignity she would with a human before she let go.
“I’m sorry for running into you like that.” Her fingers, seemingly by their own volition, moved through the dog’s soft fur, though her gaze remained on him. “I heard there were wolves here.”
“There are, but not in town and they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.” He glanced at her. “Have you never seen a dog before?”
Color flared on her cheeks. She was obviously embarrassed. “Of course, I have. Never one this big, though. Or one that looked like the pictures I’ve seen of wolves.”
“You’re right. He does sort of look like a wolf, but, as you can see, he’s very friendly.”
“Yes, he is. If you’ll follow me and bring the crates inside?” She turned away and headed for the kitchen, her steps sure and quick, leaving the door wide open, as if he hadn’t just saved her from a rabid wolf or that she hadn’t hidden behind him, her hands on his waist.
“You stay, Reckless. I’ll take you home when I’m done here.” He lifted the two crates of glasses, one under each arm, and followed her inside.
The kitchen was warm and inviting when he entered, the aromas coming from the oven making his stomach growl and his mouth water. Mrs. Gallagher, whom he knew through his mother, though not very well, stood at the stove and stirred something on the stove top.
The woman turned, spoon held over the pot. She smiled. “Wyatt! How nice to see you!”
“Mrs. Gallagher, you’re looking as beautiful as ever.”
“Oh, get on with you, laddie!” She laughed and swatted his arm. “How is your dear sainted mother? I miss exchanging recipes with her since she moved to Santa Fe with her new husband.”
“She’s doing well. She and Royce are thinking about moving back to Serenity to open a restaurant with my brother, Preston, but they’re in the early stages of planning. I’ll be sure to let her know you asked about her the next time she comes to visit.” He placed the crates on the table. “Which should be any day now.” He laughed. “She doesn’t like the way I cook for myself. Thinks I’m starving.”
Mrs. Gallagher laughed. “Aye, she would think that. After all, you are her son. She only wants the best for you.”
“That she does.”
“Thank you for your assistance, Mr. MacLean.” Sheridan interrupted their conversation. “I do appreciate it.”
