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Chapter Three
Isabel ran a towel over Blaze’s wet fur. She’d washed him up as best as she could without stressing him out with a full bath. As Jackson had said, the dog’s back legs were stitched in a few spots and it made Isabel sick to her stomach to know Blaze had been hurt. He’d been in trouble and she hadn’t been there for him.
Jackson had.
What the hell was he doing back in Maplehaven anyway? Last she’d heard, he almost never came to Vermont, his archaeological work taking him all over the globe instead. He’d gotten a jump on those goals of his from what she’d gathered from the gossip mill. And from Charlene Moyen, the one childhood friend from town she kept in contact with. After Jackson had left her high and dry and gone off to college two years earlier than they’d planned, he’d made it through his course of study in record time.
It was also possible Isabel had read some of his publications. Maybe she’d watched some online videos in which Jackson had passionately explained some archaeological find he’d made. Perhaps she’d fantasized that he’d presented the charts and graphs and sketches absolutely buck naked. He’d looked great naked in her imaginings and though a Viking spearhead found in Canada may not have turned her on all that much, the sight of Jackson—even in a video—had stoked a need in her.
Jackson had always been the smartest kid in their class. He hadn’t been one to rub it in your face though, and she’d always loved that about him. He’d been willing to help anyone who struggled, especially in his uncle’s history class—the only class that had challenged him. All the other classes were a breeze for him and she often stared at him from her seat at her desk, smiling when his eyes were closed. He was never sleeping though, because after class, he’d be able to talk about the lesson plus the four hundred other things he’d been thinking about during that period. His brain had always been going, and it had fascinated her to listen to him speak. He’d known so much about so much and teachers had absolutely loved him.
She’d loved that stupid nerd too. Then he’d left her behind. No other man had measured up since, and she’d searched for one. Oh, God, she’d searched. She met a ton of guys working as a hotel manager in Pennsylvania. Business suit types who weren’t afraid to flash their success and ask her out for a drink. Drinks led to dinner. Dinner led to dancing. Dancing led to a possible hookup.
Then the hookups went nowhere. These men were always leaving because the hotel culture was transient. Guests were never around long-term and the males working in the hotel business were often transferred to other locations. She’d start to like someone, he would leave—just as Jackson had—and she’d start the process again. An absurd cycle, but one she couldn’t seem to break. The long line of watching men leave started with Jackson and hadn’t stopped since.
Her last semi-relationship had ended after Grandpa Eugene had called her about his heart attack. Scott was a new manager who had come to Pennsylvania from Florida. He’d first caught her attention when her boss introduced them and as they’d shaken hands, Scott gave her a smile that... well... had sparkled. Isabel had actually closed her eyes for a moment, thinking her body had decided it was done waiting to get laid. Surely, Scott’s smile hadn’t really sparkled. But when she’d opened her eyes again, that smile definitely had something that reeled her in.
They’d gone for drinks that night. Scott had given her the line that he’d love to get some inside details to make his time at the hotel productive, but that quickly morphed into a do-you-want-to-get-undressed event. Yes, she had wanted to get undressed and so they had.
The sex had been wonderful and they’d dated successfully for about eight months, but after she’d gotten the news about Grandpa, she’d called it done with Scott.
He’d agreed. Maybe too quickly. Though it had been what Isabel had wanted, why had Scott given in with merely a shrug of his shoulders? Why hadn’t he fought for them?
Because he wasn’t The One.
“And that’s why I should focus on the one male in my life—aside from Grandpa—who always makes me feel great, right, Blaze?”
The dog let out a low rumble as Isabel dried inside his big, German Shepherd-like ears. Ever since she’d gotten Blaze, she’d felt as if she’d met her animal soul mate. The pup was always happy to see her, never missed greeting her when she came home from work, and consistently cuddled with her like a professional. He was the most handsome dog she’d ever seen with his unusual auburn coat, sleek and fit body, and yellow-green eyes that made him look like an exotic creature. She’d known the moment she found him online she had to be his mama. To find a purebred Australian Kelpie at a rescue was a rare treat and she was so glad she’d acted in time to make him part of her family.
If only he was a little less curious and didn’t have a nose for trouble.
“You can’t help it though, can you, Blazey-Blaze? You gotta go with your instincts, right?” Isabel leaned over the dog and gave him a squeeze. “Good thing I love your furry butt.”
Blaze lifted his head and sloshed his tongue along her cheek.
“Yeah, yeah. Doggie kisses make everything okay, don’t they?”
She finished drying Blaze, checked his back legs, making a note to call a vet in the morning to get him checked again, and gave the dog a few treats. She hated to think what state Blaze would have been in if he hadn’t been found. How long would her dog have struggled against whatever had caught him? Could he have gotten hurt even more if he’d been left out in tonight’s rain? A shudder worked its way through Isabel as she pictured Blaze in the mud, hurt and scared. She gave him an extra hug, breathing in the scent of wet dog and not minding it a bit.
“How’s he doing?” Grandpa shuffled into the kitchen.
“He hasn’t wiggled away from me wiping him,” Isabel said, “so that means his back legs hurt. Usually we get into a full-on wrestling match when it’s dry time.” She lifted Blaze, letting out a groan at his sixty pounds, and carried him into the living room to set him on the big, fluffy bed she’d put in there for him. “Letting me carry him like this isn’t something he’d normally be too happy about either.”
“Good thing Jackson found him.” Grandpa lowered to the couch with a groan of his own.
Isabel joined him on the couch. “How come you didn’t tell me Jackson was renting a cottage here?”
“I honestly didn’t know he was,” Grandpa said. “He rented it while I was in the hospital. My buddy, William Brenton, covered for me for a few days. I have to admit, I haven’t caught up on all my business stuff quite yet.” He rubbed his chest, his eyes displaying exhaustion.
Isabel patted his hand resting on his knee. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound as if you were keeping things from me.” She and Grandpa didn’t have secrets.
“I wouldn’t keep that kind of thing from you.” Grandpa put his hand atop hers. “I remember how you two were. Inseparable.”
She stood and paced away from the couch, the word inseparable having sharp edges that poked at her. “Yeah. Well. That was a long time ago.”
“Just because it was a long time ago doesn’t mean you and Jackson don’t have a history together. That boy is a part of your story.”
“Those chapters are closed.”
