Whiskey and Country

“Nice to meet you, Jack,” Nick said, shaking my baby’s hand.

How had he befriended my son in less than two minutes? Jack was usually shy around strangers.

Every time I noticed something new about this man, I always ended up pleasantly surprised.

“You two make yourself comfortable. I’ll go change. Be right back. Don’t move.” His finger tapped the tip of my son’s nose, and Jack giggled.

Even if I wanted to move, I couldn’t. My feet had taken roots into the ground.

Say something, Dah.I parted my lips, but no words came out. Instead, I nodded, as if I’d lost the usage of my vocal cords in the last minute or so. And I used to sing for a living. Real smooth, girl. Jack squirmed in my arms, asking to be put down. Nick wrung his shirt on the front porch, and my mouth watered when his defined arms bulged. Drops slid down the length of his spine, capturing my gaze. Trouble, trouble, trouble. Was gawking at a friend allowed? Guess not. I should revise the rulebook.

Bare-chested, Nick entered the house—finally—and I got a grip over myself.

“Mama, look,” Jack said, requiring my undivided attention, pointing to the left side of the house.

In my mind, I thanked him for putting my hormonal mess to rest.

The sight of my boy running in the direction of an old dog made me forget all about the remnants of my awe as I chased after him.

“Baby, wait. Don’t go near the dog. It’s—”

“The dog is old, supposedly half-deaf and half-blind. Don’t worry,” Nick stated as he exited the house, dressed in dry clothes, two beer bottles hanging from his fingers, his blond hair tousled. Even dressed, he was breathtaking.

He offered me one and I accepted it, thankful for the distraction and relishing the cold liquid as it slid down my dry throat.

Next, he joined my son and squatted to his level. “Jack, you wanna pet the dog?”

“Yes. Doggy. Woof. Woof.”

They exchanged a smile.

“Yes. Woof. Woof,” Nick echoed. “Now gimme your hand. We’ll let him know you’re here. His eyes are really old—”

“Old?” Jack asked with round eyes.

“Yes. And they don’t work very well, so he can’t see you if you are too far back. We should get him glasses.”

“No glasses. He’s doggy.”

“You think?”

Jack bobbed his head, and Nick grinned at him.

My heart exploded into a million molecules when the man grabbed my baby’s tiny hand in his and brought it in front of the dog for him to sniff. The old fellow licked it, and the sound of Jack’s crystal-clear giggles filled me with so much love. And happiness. And contentment. “See, he loves you already. His name’s Buddy.”

“Buddy?” Jack repeated.

“Buddy. And I think he’d like to be your friend.”

“Buddy my friend.”

“Yes. You two will get along great. I can feel it.”

“Buddy my friend,” my son recited with a happy grin on his face and a convinced nod.

Who was this man? Now even a toddler had fallen under his charm.

“Come with me,” Nick continued. “We’ll bring him fresh water.”

As if they’d known each other for a long time, Jack and Nick ambled hand in hand toward the house in search of a bowl to take to Buddy, my son bouncing on his feet.

Frozen, I stood there, my eyes trained on them, my heart about to explode, elated.

My son sat next to the dog, patting his head, and talking to him in a quiet voice when they returned.

“You my friend, Buddy. You a dog. Woof. Woof. Wanna play?”

He wound his arms around the bloodhound’s neck, and the old dog licked his cheek.

Nick joined me. “See? Best friends,” he said, his arms crossed over his chest and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Is Buddy your dog?”

He shook his head and twitched his thumb toward the neighbor’s house. The one we could barely see through the line of trees. “No. He lives next door. But for some reason, he adopted me the day I moved in and follows me around all the time.” He ran a hand through his still-damp hair. “Dahlia, I’ve been meaning to be honest for a while. The thing is, I lied to you on the day we met.”

I angled my upper body to face him, keeping an eye on Jack.

Air hitched in my lungs. What was he talking about?

I held my breath when he spoke.

“I led you to believe you were my first friend in Green Mountain, but that title had already been claimed by Buddy. He came to me the moment I climbed out of my truck.”

A loud laugh exited my mouth.

I wiped my eyes as tears built in them.

“Oh, you serious? Whoa, I think I can forgive you for this little confusing information. Let’s say I’m your first human friend then. I can probably live with that. Sure, I’m sad, but I’ll get over it. With time.” I held out my palm, and Nick shook it. Charged warmth traveled from him to me, heating up my body and electrifying my core.

As if magnets controlled them, my eyes drifted to his lips.

Flutters rose inside me.

Coming here tonight was a bad idea. I would never be able to act innocent because sooner rather than later, my body would betray me. I already could predict.

Just a handshake and I was about to dissolve into a puddle of lust at Nick’s feet.

In a quick motion, I yanked my hand away, rubbing it against my thigh to remove the persistent tingling.

“About those flowers—” I said, deflecting the attention away from our hands. And the blazing connection we shared. No way Nick hadn’t felt it too. But I said nothing because I wasn’t ready to appraise it.

His gaze, appreciative and alive, twinkling and playful at the same time, scanned my face.

It stole some of the air destined for my brain.

I blinked, trying to ease the tension swirling inside me, faster and stronger than a tidal wave.

Nick’s eyes darted away. “Huh. Sure. The flowers. Well, I prepared everything. All you have to do is work your magic, so it’ll look fabulous. I’ve got more soil in the cargo bed of the truck just in case, and I’ve bought you garden tools and gloves. You know. So that you don’t get dirt and stuff under your nails. Because it’s a pain to remove it afterward. So, I’ve got you a garden kit. To avoid those muddy fingernails.”

Why was I getting the feeling that he was as nervous as I?

His cheeks reddened, and I enjoyed the effect I had on him at this moment.

“Thanks. That’s really thoughtful of you.” I squeezed his forearm and turned my head. “Jack, come with me, baby.”

My son rose to his feet and beckoned the dog to follow him.

Slowly, as if he had to get his energy from a source deep inside him, the old bloodhound stood on all fours and walked toward me. They both sat down on the pebble-and-soil-covered ground, not a care in the world about getting dirty, the dog now resting his head in my child’s lap.

With my phone, I snapped a picture. Without thinking further, I sent the adorable shot to Carter, who replied almost immediately.

Carter: I’m framing this.