“Expecting an earthquake?” Hank quipped.
“Door frames can be nice to lean against-” she batted her eyelashes flirtatiously “-should you want to lean, of course.”
Hank liked this side of Ally. She was incredibly uninhibited and playful, deep down. The problem was that side of her didn’t surface all that much. So far. If he had his way, that would change as readily as their relationship. “One left.”
“Obviously, we know where that will go.” Ally sashayed on down the hall and into the big country kitchen.
The plastic baby pool that served as a whelping pen had been pushed to one side of the room. Duchess lay contentedly on the blanket lining it, her back against the side. The warming box, which contained all eleven puppies, was nestled beside the mother dog.
As Ally approached, Duchess lifted her head and thumped her tail happily.
Smiling in return, Ally handed the remaining sprig to Hank. “This should go in this room because you never know when one of us is going to want to kiss Duchess or a puppy.”
Hank chuckled. He got out the step stool and fastened the mistletoe in the center of the eight-foot ceiling. “How’s that?”
Ally stopped petting Duchess long enough to study the result. “Perfect.”
“Maybe we should try it out.”
“You’re right.” Ally gave the dog a final pat and turned her attention to the pile of slumbering puppies. She picked up the tiniest one and lifted her gently to her chest. “This one definitely needs a kiss.”
Hank chuckled. “I’ll make sure I give her one,” he drawled. “But first this…” He wrapped his arms around Ally and, being careful not to squish Gracie, capture Ally’s lips with a tender kiss that conveyed everything he was feeling and could not say.
She kissed him back just as ardently.
When he finally lifted his head and looked into her eyes, she nudged him with her knee. “You are so bad.”
“You haven’t experienced the half of it.” They exchanged sexy grins.
Hank felt a surge of heat, content to wait. But it turned out his competition for Ally’s attention was not.
The puppy lapped at her hand with her little pink tongue, let out a familiar squeak of hunger and began to squirm.
Smiling tenderly, Ally tore her gaze from Hank’s. She glanced down, then gasped. “Oh my gosh, Hank! Look at this!”
Chapter Twelve
“Her eyes are open!” Ally cried in amazement. She had grown used to seeing the puppies in constant play, with their eyes shut tight. Being able to look into Gracie’s dark eyes forged yet another unexpected yet highly emotional connection. To the point that Ally knew leaving her was going to be excruciatingly hard.
For Hank, too, judging by the depth of affection on his handsome face. He came closer and leaned in for a better look. “Right on schedule, too.” He grinned triumphantly, then turned to Ally, his warm breath brushing her face. “I told you that Gracie might be little, but she’s mighty.”
Ally glowed with pride, knowing that just ten days ago the pup nearly hadn’t made it, and now she was leading the pack in development. Except…Ally frowned. “She doesn’t seem to be focusing.”
Hank brushed a gentle hand over Gracie’s soft head and scratched her lovingly behind the ears. “She won’t be able to track an object for another two weeks, but between now and then, she’ll see a little more every day.”
Ally’s spirits took a nosedive as the realization hit. “Unfortunately, I won’t be with her when she can see more than a blur when she looks at me. I’ll be back in Houston. With or without a job…trying to put together my life there.” Ally’s face crumpled as another wave of sadness moved through her. “Gracie will never really get to know me.” She blinked back tears. “Not the way I’ve come to know-and love-her.”
Hank wrapped a comforting arm about Ally’s shoulders. He kissed the top of her head and flashed her a consoling smile. “She knows and loves you.”
Ally luxuriated in his tenderness, even as she questioned his assertion. “How? Puppies’ ears are closed when they’re born, too. It takes several weeks before they can hear a loud noise. According to the handouts your cousin gave us, their lack of vision and hearing is Mother Nature’s way of insuring they get enough sleep in the newborn phase.”
Hank’s eyes glimmered. “But their other senses-touch, smell, and taste-are there from the outset. Trust me on this, Ally.” He tightened his grip on her protectively. “Gracie knows you, same as she knows her mama.”
Ally supposed that was true.
Which made leaving the tiny puppy all the harder.
Ally blinked back a tear as Hank knelt beside the box. The other puppies were beginning to waken, squeaking and swimming and rolling around in the search for their mother. A few more were trying to open their eyes, too.
His expression unbearably sweet, Hank lifted them one by one and put them next to Duchess to nurse. Reluctantly, Ally settled Gracie against Duchess, too, then went to prepare a supplemental bottle of puppy formula.
Not that Gracie seemed to need the extra calories as much anymore, as she was able to nurse alongside her littermates, with nearly as much vigor…
Hank held the last puppy to wake up, cradling and petting him while he awaited his turn to nurse. Duchess lay contentedly, keeping one eye on the puppy Hank held, and watching over the others snuggled at her side.
“It’s amazing how fast they’re all growing,” Ally murmured. Or how content she felt, watching them. She had never thought of herself as much of a ranch person. This experience was changing her mind. She liked being around animals more than she had thought.
Hank nodded agreeably. “In another week they’ll be standing. A week after that running and scampering about.”
Ally sighed. “Sounds lively.” And she would miss that, too…
The doorbell rang.
Ally looked at Hank. “Expecting anyone?”
He shook his head. “You?”
“No.” She went to get the door. Seconds later, she returned with Kurt McCabe. He had his vet bag in one hand, a file folder in another. Encompassing them both with a friendly grin, Kurt told them, “I thought I’d stop by and check on Duchess and the puppies while I was out this way. And give you the news while I’m here…”
THAT, HANK THOUGHT, could not be good. Trusting his cousin to be objective, in a situation where he might not be, Hank asked, “Did you hear something about Duchess and her puppies, and who they might belong to?”
“Maybe.” Kurt set his bag on the table. “I had a call at the clinic a while ago that sounded a little sketchy. It was from a lady in Wichita Falls named Frannie Turner.”
“That’s two hundred miles from here!” Ally said.
Kurt obviously shared their consternation. “Anyway, Ms. Turner said she had agreed to watch Duchess for her sister-in-law, Talia Brannamore, who had been called off on an emergency with her great-niece’s family in Nashville, Tennessee. Something about a house fire and Christmas and all the presents going up in smoke, and the family having small children and nowhere to go but a hotel, and it all being very short notice. Apparently, there was a lot of confusion, both before Duchess was dropped off with Ms. Turner, and during the first day Duchess was there.”
Ally’s eyes took on a cynical glint. “Kurt, this sounds like a hoax!”
Hank agreed.
“That’s what I thought.” Kurt knelt next to the whelping pen, stethoscope around his neck. “Except for one thing. This woman who claimed she was keeping the female golden retriever named Duchess, knew the retriever was pregnant and about to deliver eleven whelps. We didn’t put that information in any of the flyers we sent out.”
Ally blinked. “Why not?”
Hank explained, “The dogs are valuable. It’s Christmas, and the demand for puppies-even those not quite ready to go home yet-is higher than at any other time of year. And these are purebred, show quality dogs. They’re worth a lot.”