4. Soren

4

SOREN

I could not believe I'd invited Miss Sunshine to live with me. What had I been thinking? Having that bubbly personality in my house day in and day out? Finley would be the end of me.

Or would she save me?

Why had I invited her? Normally, I was a measured man, choosing what little I said carefully. I'd found it to be a useful practice, given my innate bluntness. I'd gotten caught up in the moment. And her big blue eyes. They were really quite a beautiful hue of blue, expressive and warm.

My thoughts drifted to her time in jail. Such a strange dichotomy that image evoked. How did she make it through without losing her optimism? Despite her perky personality, it told me a lot about the strength of her character. In addition, it was admirable how Finley seemed to bear no resentment or bitterness toward her sister, Danielle, who had let her take the fall.

I could not imagine any of my brothers ever doing anything remotely similar. The Moon brothers were the opposite. Having one another's backs was the foundation of our entire relationship. Even before Pop came to us, we'd learned how important it was to protect one another. As the oldest, Atticus had set the bar high, teaching us all how to take care of one another and Mama. Most likely, the result of our real father being so heinous, Atticus had taken on more than a boy should have had to. Mama had taught us early on to take care of family above all else.

The house felt as empty tonight as it had the first night I'd spent alone. I'd hoped I'd get used to it, but so far, I just felt lonely. Other than Rafferty, I was the only Moon brother without a beloved. If I were honest with myself, which I always tried to be, I had to admit to feeling as if life were passing me by. Caspian and Atticus were about to have babies. Thad had become an overnight father to Chloe when he and Sammie had married. They'd grown up and moved on, and I felt left behind.

As they'd started deserting me one by one, it became more evident that I was a hopeless case. When it came to finding a woman to love, I had a lot stacked against me. For one thing, I was tied to this ranch on a soul level and had no intention of ever leaving. Although my brothers had found partners who loved living here, it was unlikely that I would. Secondly, I was a rancher through and through. Yes, we might make money from tourists, but this land was like air itself. I couldn't imagine who I would be if I did not connect my feet to this particular piece of earth.

Anyway, I was too gruff and stiff to attract the right woman. I could rarely think of anything to say to a young lady, and when I did, it almost never came out of my mouth in the right order. Conversing with the opposite sex was a disaster. I wasn't charming like Thad or smart like Atticus. I had none of Caspian's artistic style or quick wit. Rafferty was a doctor who looked like a movie star, for heaven's sake. When he decided he was ready, any woman in her right mind would immediately fall for him. Why was I the odd man out in a family of achievers? I'd have liked to be interested in school or academic pursuits, but all I wanted to do was look after my horses and my land. What woman would want me?

If I were a different kind of man, would I have had a chance with Finley?

The idea sobered me further. Did I like her? Is that what was happening to me? And because of that, I'd invited her to move in here? Was this a terrible mistake? If I developed deeper feelings for her while we lived together, it would be the disaster of all disasters. Because one thing I knew with certainty? She would never be interested in a man like me.

I'd keep to myself. No problem. Since Sammie had moved in with us, this had felt like a home, even reminiscent of the days of my childhood when we all lived and loved like a litter of happy puppies right under this very roof. But with Finley, it would be purely practical. We would not share meals or watch television together as we all had when Sammie was here. Just a roommate. That's all she would be. I would keep my romantic notions to myself.

My phone buzzed with a text just as I was opening the refrigerator to get a beer and rummage around for some leftovers.

It was from Finley.

I ignored the flutter in my belly.

I've decided I'd be a fool not to take you up on your offer. I gave my notice to Mrs. Galloway tonight. She took it well, but I feel absolutely wrecked over it. I'll pay her up through the end of next month. I didn't want to leave her in a financial lurch, you know? She's lonely, and her children never come to visit. I made a vow to myself to visit from time to time. She loves Elliot's desserts. Elliot always saves anything left over for me to take home for Mrs. Galloway. She doesn't mind that it's a day old. Anyway, I'm texting you to ask—when would you like me to move in?

Good Lord, her text was like a thesis. I stared at the screen for a moment, contemplating a reply, not sure what to say. Did she expect a long, detailed answer like the one she'd texted? If she did, she'd be disappointed. I didn't have it in me. Short and to the point. That was me.

Whenever.

The dots appeared, letting me know she was replying back. I waited for what seemed like hours, holding my breath for some unknown reason.

Whenever is a little VAGUE. Would tomorrow be too soon? I have the day off, so it would be ideal if I could get settled before I have to go to work. I have almost nothing to bring with me, mostly just clothes since I haven't needed anything here, other than personal items. Should I bring sheets and bedding? What size is the bed? I feel bad saying this, but I'm super excited to move out of here. It's been kind of depressing, to be honest. Like salt in my lonely wound.

I guess what they said was true. People write just the way they talk. In this case, a lot.

Tomorrow is fine. No bedding necessary.

Sammie had cleaned the room thoroughly when she'd moved out, so there was nothing that needed to be done.

More dots as she answered me.

Do we need to have any rules or whatever? Like, for example, we might want to be very clear about who does what chores. I'm a VERY neat person, so you don't need to worry about me messing up the place. My old flatmates back in London put a little chart on the wall so we knew who was to do what and when. How did you guys handle it before everyone moved out? Is there a chore you hate?

Shaking my head, I once again contemplated my reply.

Chart isn't necessary. I have a cleaner come twice a month.

Now that I was answering her, I realized these were things we should have talked over earlier.

OMG! A cleaner. That's so decadent. How much will you need from me? It's not right for you to pay it all. Especially because the rent is so GENEROUS. Btw, I'm absolutely thrilled. If I keep saving, I'll have a down payment for a house in a few years.

I took a long draw from my beer, chuckling. This woman was something else. She had this mixture of cheerfulness and practicality that I couldn't help but admire, even if I found it irritating at times. In addition, I'd noticed what a hard worker she was, which I appreciated as the owner of a business. But it was also a quality that I held dear. The Moon family might not be perfect, but we always did our share and then some.

Are you still there? Did I scare you away with my overly long texts? My ex-boyfriend used to tease me about it.

Condensation from the beer bottle had made my fingers damp. I wiped them on my jeans before answering.

You didn't scare me away. However, my fingers are tired. We can talk this all through tomorrow. Do you need any help moving?

To my surprise, she answered with a short reply.

Nope. All good. Have a great night!!

She was fond of exclamation points, both written and verbal. I didn't write back, figuring one of us had to cut it off at some point or we'd be texting all night.

Would that be such a bad thing?

Why did these thoughts keep popping up?

Night had fallen, leaving the room nearly dark, other than the soft glow of the pendant lights hanging over the counter. When Pop and Mama had decided to move into a smaller house, he'd suggested we take the opportunity to update the kitchen and have the floors refinished. The kitchen, although nice, needed some modern updates. We'd brought in light gray and sage-green cabinetry, subway tiles to give it the modern farmhouse feel, and an apron-front sink. A large island in the middle of the kitchen gave us a great place to eat a quick meal or chat with whoever cooked the meal.

My stomach growled, reminding me that I had not yet had dinner. With Caspian and Elliot living here, I'd been spoiled with great meals. Now that I was alone, not so much. I'd taken for granted how much work it was to make dinner. First with Mama and then with Caspian. They'd always made everything look effortless. A warm plate of food on a chilly night had seemed to materialize out of thin air. I knew better than that now.

Stiff from the physical aspects of my job, I stretched my arms overhead and pressed into my lower back before heading over to the refrigerator. A quick glance inside reminded me of what it was like on my own here. The refrigerator had only milk, beer, and a few other essentials, including condiments. Even if I'd felt like cooking, it would have required a trip to the grocery store in town, which was the last thing I wanted to do after a long day of work. Instead, I made myself a frozen pizza and ate in what used to be our family room in front of the television, delighted to see that one of my favorite movies, A River Runs Through It, was playing.

I stretched out long on the couch to watch the ending and must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew was waking to the sound of an animal crying. For a moment, I listened, trying to locate where it was coming from, but I heard only the trees rustling in the wind. I got up and went down the hallway to the front door and peered out the window at the porch. A pair of glittering eyes stared back at me.

Most evenings, we left the porch light off for fear of disturbing our guests. We prided ourselves on the view of the stars on a clear night, and lights interfered. However, I flipped the switch now to get a better look.

It was a dog. Curled up on the mat.

Medium in size, he had yellow fur, floppy ears, and a scruffy face. A mutt of some kind—maybe half terrier and half something else? His tail wagged at the sight of my face in the window. Poor fellow. All alone on a cold night.

I opened the door and called out to him. "Hey, boy."

He ambled to his feet, whining. Upon closer inspection, I saw that his fur was matted with mud and blood. Something had torn into him, leaving his front left leg bloodied and possibly broken. In addition, there were ugly gashes on his right side.

I knelt to reassure him, holding out my hand. "Hey, buddy. You hurt?" I'd have to call Arabella and beg her to come out to take a look at him tonight.

He tilted his head, one ear flopping over an eye, and sniffed my fingers. Apparently, he sensed he could trust me because he followed me into the foyer when I invited him inside.

Arabella answered her cell phone right away and agreed to come out as soon as she got her dad down for the night. "He's just finishing his supper now," she said, speaking quietly. "It upsets him if I mess with his routine, but I'll be out as soon as I can."

The dog wore no collar, so I had no idea if he was lost or abandoned. Given his roughed-up state, I guessed he'd been living outside for a while. Either a coyote or another dog had hurt him, given the claw marks, but a human had to have let him go in the first place.

I carried him into the kitchen and set him down on the mat in the mudroom. We kept some treats and wet food for Scout, Atticus's dog, in the cupboards. I quickly located the kibble and scooped a small amount into a bowl. He scarfed it down within seconds and then slurped most of the water from the bowl I'd set next to him.

"You're dirty, dude. And you don't smell too good."

He wagged his tail and gingerly fell onto the mat, softly whining when his leg touched down.

"Where did you come from?" I asked him. "What's your name? You are a boy, right?" I leaned closer to get a better look and could see that he was indeed male.

Fifteen minutes later, Arabella arrived. She set her bag aside and knelt on the kitchen floor, speaking softly to him. He lay still but whimpered when she touched his hurt leg.

"It's broken," Arabella said. "But it's a clean break from what I can tell. X-rays would tell me for certain, but it's pretty obvious to me even without them. Since I'm here, let's set it tonight. I brought a sedative and everything else I'll need. We can give him some pain meds so he'll sleep comfortably. You'll want to keep him in the mudroom in case he gets sick from the meds or food."

Soon, she had him drugged up and carried the poor limp fellow upstairs to the bathtub, where she gave him a good scrub before setting the leg. When she was done, we brought him back to the mudroom. While Arabella had been seeing to him, I'd made a bed from old blankets.

Once we had him on his new bed, I sank to the floor to get a better look at him. Now that he was clean, his fur proved to be fluffy and lighter than I'd thought. "You're a pretty boy," I said, stroking his ears.

"I put a bandage protector over the cast," Arabella said. "He'll be adjusting to enough without the cone of shame."

"What's his story, do you think?" I asked.

"Given how thin he is, I'd say he's been homeless for a few months. The wounds are fresh, though. My guess is a coyote. I doubt he belongs to anyone around here, or they would have been looking for him."

"Plus, no collar," I said. "How could anyone just leave him out there?"

"I don't know. There's nothing worse than a human who is cruel to animals," Arabella said. "There's a special place in hell for them."

"Yep."

"You going to keep him or take him to a shelter in Bozeman?"

"I have been kind of lonely since the boys moved out," I said. "He might be good company."

"You old softy," Arabella said. "Some things never change."

Not much later, I walked her to the door. She'd left pain pills and medicine for me to administer a few times a day and asked that I bring him into her office tomorrow afternoon. "But call me if he gets worse tonight."

I promised I would and walked out to the porch to keep watch while she strolled to her car. Once she was safely on her way, I returned to my new pal. He was sleeping, snoring softly. Not wanting to disturb him, I let him be. However, leaving him in here all alone seemed wrong. What if he woke up and needed something? Arabella was right about vomiting or loose bowels, though. I didn't want to risk him making a mess in my bedroom.

The only solution? I would sleep with him in the mudroom.

By then, it was approaching eleven, and exhaustion had replaced my earlier adrenaline at finding a maimed furry friend on my doorstep. I grabbed one of the sleeping bags and mats we kept stored in the garage and laid them out on the floor of the mudroom. After I brushed my teeth, put on sweats and a T-shirt, and grabbed my pillow, I settled into the sleeping bag next to my sick friend. If he woke and needed anything, I would be here.

My last thought as I drifted off to sleep? I hoped my new roommate liked dogs, because we were about to be a household of three.