Delivering His Gifts: A Mountain Man's Baby Christmas Romance(8)

If Mason looked too attached to me, too protective, it would give Greg ideas. Bad ideas. Dangerous ideas. As thankful as I was for him standing up for me, I had to make it clear - it was way out of line.

“I know, I know. I just don’t take too well to men manhandling women,” he said softly.

I could hear the genuine regret in his voice, and one look at him and his puppy dog eyes, it was hard to stay angry at him for long. His intentions had been honorable, to say the least.

“You ready, punkin?” Greg asked Skyler. “Got everything?”

“He’s a totally different man around her,” Mason murmured, speaking the obvious.

“Yep. Welcome to my life,” I stated flatly.

The way he could turn on and off the anger scared me. I wasn’t sure if the other emotions I saw from him were real. Most days, I was convinced it was all an act.

My entire body was stiff, as it often was when Greg was around. I waited until he loaded Skyler into his car and drove off before I could even breathe again.

I had almost forgotten about Mason as I waved bye to my daughter, my chest tight with anxiety as my little girl rode off with Greg. I hated the weekends she went with him, even though he’d never shown any sign of being abusive to our daughter. For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be a good dad. A doting father who often spoiled her with expensive toys and clothes. The courts loved him, and that’s why we had shared custody. That and he was rich as all hell and could afford the best lawyers money could buy, while I was often stuck with legal aid. I did well for myself, I was successful, but no one went into animal rescue and dog training to get rich.

A few moments after their car disappeared into the distance, Mason cleared his throat beside me. “I mean it, I’m sorry, Danielle.”

“It’s okay,” I said, still looking out toward the road. Greg had never done anything to make me think he’d hurt Skyler. I couldn’t even imagine it. But there was still a knot in my stomach every time she left with him. I plastered a smile on my face, trying to shove away all the bad feelings, and focused on my client.

“So, would you like to meet the dog and see what he can do?”

“Of course,” Mason said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I motioned for him to follow me. We didn’t go into the house - no need for that since they were in the fenced back yard. I opened the gate and Oscar bounded toward us. Griz was right behind him, and Zeus tried to keep up with the big boys but didn’t stand a chance with his short little legs.

Oscar heeled in front of me without a command.

“I taught him not to jump on people, and to not lean on them unless he’s given permission since Danes tend to lean.”

Mason asked, “May I pet him?”

“Sure, go right ahead,” I said, patting Oscar on the head just behind his ears.

Mason knelt so he was closer in height to the dog. He appeared to be in awe.

“I’ve always loved dogs,” he commented. “And growing up, I wanted a big one like this, but our mom wouldn’t have it. We had a border collie, but that was as big as she’d go.”

“Giant dogs are really special,” I said, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. “They hold a special place in my heart.”

I choked back a sob, and even as I tried to hide the crying, Mason picked up on it. He wasn’t the only one. Oscar nestled his head into my palm, giving it a lick. His big eyes stared up at me as if to ask, “What’s wrong, Mama?”

Mason was standing beside me now, a hand on my shoulder. “I mean it. We can find him another dog.”

“No, Oscar’s perfect. I meant it when I said it might take months, if not longer, to find a dog that’s as natural as him. I’ll be okay, as long as I can continue to visit him?” I glanced at him, my question in my eyes.

“I’m sure that could be arranged,” Mason said. “Calvin isn’t likely to say no to a visit from a beautiful woman.”

My cheeks flushed at the compliment. I hid my face and pretended to wipe at my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Mason said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no it's fine. I’m just not used to good guys who give nice compliments.” I really wasn’t. Greg had initially laid it on thick with the compliments, but once he had knocked me up, that all came to an abrupt end. “Anyway, back to the dog. I think Oscar and - what did you say your friend’s name was again?”

“Calvin.”

“Right. I think Oscar and Calvin will be a perfect match,” I told him. “In the rescue world, it can be hard to let an animal go, especially when you’ve cared for them for a long time. I raised Oscar from a tiny runt – hand feeding him for weeks - until he grew into this gigantic monster you see today. But it’s all part of the job, you know? You rescue, find them a good home, and then open your home to another animal in need.”

Mason’s face softened, and it was a beautiful sight.

“You’re amazing, do you know that?”

“Nah,” I chuckled, looking away and waving a hand. “I heard what you did during the flood, how you worked long hours at the clinic, literally saving people.”

“I’m no doctor, just a vet with Navy medic training,” he said, trying to downplay his role.

“You still saved people’s lives, Mason.”

Something shifted in his eyes, a darkness unlike any I’d seen. He looked away, as if uncomfortable.

“Sometimes,” he said softly.

I stared at him for a long second, not sure what to say. It was clear from the way his mood had shifted that there was something he wasn’t talking about, but it really wasn’t my place to ask him about his past.

He cleared his throat and ran his hand over his beard, smoothing the already smooth hair down as if distracting himself.

“So it’s clear you’ve had a shitty day,” he said, then cringed. “Pardon my language.”

I held up a hand to stop him. “No, you’re right. Today has been absolutely shitty, and the weekend without my daughter is only going to be shittier.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he sympathized. “I’d be happy to take you out for a drink, if you’re interested.”

I started to answer, but he held up the hand, stopping me.

He continued, “Not as a date. Nothing like that. Just because you’ve had a rough day, and I think you could use the distraction. I could tell you more about Calvin too, and our conversation can be strictly to business.”

I opened my mouth to tell him no, there was no way I would meet with a client at a bar over a cocktail or a beer, but something stopped me.

His eyes held the darkness from before, but there was a sadness etched into his face. He wasn’t asking just because he thought I needed it - it was clear Mason needed the distraction as well.

“Not a date?” I asked, raising my brows in suspicion. “As in, I pay for myself and we only talk about the client?”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, placing a hand over his heart.

“You were a Boy Scout?” I asked with a soft chuckle. It was hard to imagine Mason as a little boy, much less wearing one of those cute little suits.

“I was, believe it or not, once upon a time.”



Ooo000ooo





“So why did you go into the military and decide to be a medic?” I asked, sipping my watered-down cocktail. I had let the ice melt into the drink, nursing it so it would last the entire evening, if possible. I didn’t want to get wasted, nor did I want to spend the money on drinks.

Mason chuckled. “Hey, what about only talking about business? I thought we had an agreement.”

I shrugged. “I think I have a pretty good idea about what we’re doing. I want Calvin to meet Oscar, and we can gauge if they’d be a good match. Then I can start training. Not sure there’s anything else to talk about.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I made an oath to you.”

Yeah, he had. But that was before seeing him relaxed and looking so sexy at the bar. Something about the lights in the place, or maybe it was the mood, made me chill the hell out as well. And once I was relaxed, my walls crumbled.

That and it had been a very long time since I’d been out for a drink with a man.

My eyes moved around the bar, checking for any familiar faces. Any of Greg’s friends. He wasn’t friends with the type to show up at honky tonk bars in the middle of nowhere, but there was always the chance he could be following me.

But the bar was mostly filled with guys in jeans and flannel shirts. Not the outfit anyone connected to Greg would ever wear.

“Are you going to answer my question or not?” I asked, playfully poking him in the arm.

“How much alcohol did the bartender put in that thing?” he asked with a laugh.

“Not much. Why?”

“You seem like a totally different person, that’s why.”

“You mean I seem nicer,” I commented.

“Listen, I didn’t say that,” he defended playfully. “Just that you’re more relaxed, and not all business. I wasn’t expecting that after the exchanges we’ve had.”

“I know I can be a bit…” I stopped to think of the right word. “Frigid, I guess?’

“Well ain’t that an interesting word choice,” Mason said with a soft laugh as he took a long pull from his beer.