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He’s clearly loving the horror playing out on my face.
“Enjoy the dog,” he says. “And I’ll see you later, sweet fiancée of mine.”
He chuckles over his shoulder, leaving me to coax Rudy up and out of the snow.
“I blame you for this,” I tell Rudy. “Completely.”
In response, Rudy grins and barks.
Asshole. But at least he’s an innocent asshole.
Something I definitely can’t say about Carter.
Chapter Four
“Sutton, it’s fine. Carter is a jackass, but now I have Rudy, so what does it matter?”
I’m pacing around my kitchen, whipping up a batch of homemade dog treats to celebrate Rudy’s return. They’re peanut butter, rolled oats, and banana, and Rudy spends the entire time following me hopefully as I make laps around the room, bowl and spoon in hand.
“I just don’t understand why he doesn’t get a Shepphoe to do it,” Sutton says on the other end of the line. “Though, honestly, none of these Sheppard brothers are right in the head.”
Apparently, Sutton’s got her hands filled with her own Sheppard brother problems. I wonder if it’s possible for genetics to carry the jackass trait because, if so, it seems firmly implanted in the trio.
That, and sleigh-stopping hotness.
“Anyway, I’m trying to focus on the positives,” I tell her. “The library looks great, all of my winter programs are filling up, and now I’ve got Rudy. What else could I want?”
“Sex,” Sutton replies without missing a beat.
“You’re one to talk,” I huff.
“Yeah, maybe,” Sutton says. Then I hear crashes and a whole lot of swearing. “Ugh, not again. Call you later, okay?”
I wonder if it’s possible the Sheppard brother I’m dealing with is the easy one. After all, at least he’s not trying to kick me out of my house.
Once I’ve hung up with Sutton, I turn my attention back to the treats. They’re thoroughly mixed, so I pour them into the dog mold tray. I’m no Ginger Winters, but Rudy loves my homemade treats and that’s all that matters. Plus, there’s the satisfaction of making something myself coupled with helping someone else.
Which, honestly, is sort of how I exist as a person. Ever since I was little, I was focused on being as self-sufficient as possible. I’d read ahead in class whenever I could, just so I could see how many of the assignments I could do without help… and then I’d use my extra time to help my classmates. As an adult, this cocktail of personality traits is on full display at the library. I spend hours reading and researching so that I can give the best possible book recommendations to every patron who enters my doors.
Taking care of Rudy is perfect for me. It makes me calmer. It gives me a reason to get up and seize the day. Because who could possibly be sad when Rudy’s there to save the day? I’m grinning at the thought of it as I pop the treats in the oven.
Excellent. Now, with that task done, I can focus on the rest of my day-off morning ritual. I grab my coffee, adding in some peppermint-flavored creamer, and then take a seat at my old, wooden kitchen table. While my style isn’t quite as kitschy as Sutton’s, I’ve definitely got an eclectic flair. I like things that look like one of a kind, and so while not everything totally matches, the vibe is comfortable. Exactly how I like it.
I take my coffee and settle in, sipping slowly as I relish the decadent mix of flavors. I might not be as crazy for Christmas as Maggie is, but I get as excited about the seasonal creamers as the next girl. In fact, I’m thoroughly enjoying myself, one sip at a time. That is, until I nearly choke while scrolling the internet for my morning gossip fix.
Oh, no. No.
It’s impossible.
It’s improbable.
It’s got to be a mistake.
Because there’s no way he actually did this.
Carter Shepherd Engaged to Hometown Sweetheart!
There he is below the headline, beaming brightly in one of his MLB team photos. Most of the players seem to refuse to smile, but not Carter. He’s got that cocky, nothing-can-stop-me grin. He looks gorgeous and like, well, the most eligible bachelor on the shelf.
They included a photo of me too. It’s not the photo I use on social media, the one from my family vacation to Cancún in which I look sun-kissed and possibly even adorable. Nope, not that one. It’s also not the photo that’s on my Reindeer Falls librarian photo ID, which, after a few retakes, is decently respectable.
But no.
Instead, the photo they used of me in this internet celebrity gossip piece is… my high school yearbook photo. And not my senior year photo either. No, it’s my junior year photo, still in braces, bad bangs and all.
This is inexcusable. I abandon my coffee, shove my feet into a pair of boots, and stomp next door, Rudy following on my heels.
