9. Goldilocks and the Three Brothers

As they rode down the mountain, the Hunnicutt brothers discussed the storm and the havoc it had caused. Bone-weary, Hailey drifted in and out of listening as they ran through the various mountain passes and highways that were closed without registering how the news might affect her. Rover rested beside her on the seat, and beyond him, Noah's gaze shifted restlessly between her and the dog, as if he were worried one of them might stop breathing at any moment.

His concern was—wait for it—sweet. Why that word circled in her head whenever she looked at him escaped her, but it had solidly replaced "hot." Well, not entirely. The two descriptors shared equal billing now. Knowing him a little better, she could see his growly bear persona for what it was: fake.

Charlie rode shotgun beside Reece, and he glanced at her over his shoulder. "You got somewhere to stay tonight, sweetheart? 'Cause we're on the only road in and out of Fall River, and even if you had a working vehicle, which you don't, you wouldn't be able to get through."

A new reality suddenly bobbed to the surface of her molasses-like brain. "Will I be able to get home to Montrose tomorrow?" She had a shit ton of work waiting for her, as usual, because her assistant, who'd schmoozed his way into being her colleague, had recently transformed himself into her boss. She still didn't know how Cliff had pulled it off, but he was a glad-hander, a coalition-builder, a credit-taker, and as far from a workload-reducer as a person could get.

Charlie's eyes suddenly brightened, and he turned to Reece. "I know where she can stay. I'm almost done at the Loose Moose. It's got a working kitchen, one of the bathrooms is finished, and the bedroom's furnished. Most importantly, there's heat and running water. I don't think the Freemans would mind if she stayed there until the roads open."

"Call them," Noah ordered.

Hailey gaped. "What's a ‘loose moose'?" She pictured an escaped moose with loose bowels running around the town. "And who are the Freemans?"

Noah gave her knee a reassuring pat. "Some local folks who own an old miner's bungalow in town that Charlie's been working on. They're getting it ready for short-term rental in the spring. It's vacant." She must have looked confused because he continued. "Charlie's a contractor. He restores historic buildings."

Okay, so no moose—or was that mooses? Meese?—running amok. Instead, the image of a dingy, dark log cabin interior with one opaque window popped into her head. But stranded people couldn't be choosy, she reminded herself. As long as it had heat, she would welcome a place to stay until the town dug itself out. Except the dog …

"What about Rover? Can I keep him there?"

Charlie turned in his seat. "'Fraid not. But he needs to go to the vet regardless so they can check him out and keep an eye on him. We'll figure out what to do with him after that."

Charlie believed the dog would recover, didn't he? She clung to his optimism, letting it lift her soggy spirits as they zigged and zagged through twisting snow-packed roads. When they finally descended into a flat plane, Fall River and its compact grid pattern came into view. The thick white blanket covering it and the iron-gray sky pressing on top of it made it seem more bedraggled than she had remembered.

The tires crunched over snow as the truck eased along Bowen Street. Stores and restaurants that reminded her of a Western movie set stood shoulder to shoulder, their doors and windows locked up tight. A man in tan coveralls and a red beanie shoveled snow from a sidewalk. He glanced up and waved as they rolled past, and the brothers waved back. Other than that lone soul, the place could have been a ghost town.

At the end of a half-dozen blocks, Reece turned onto a narrow track beside a giant blue spruce. On the other side of the tree stood a mustard-yellow bungalow with black shutters and a cranberry-colored front door. Charlie hopped out to unlock it while Hailey said good-bye to Rover, whose big, frightened eyes locked on her. He whimpered, twanging the strings of her heart.

She scratched the top of his grimy head. "It's all right, buddy. These guys will take care of you, okay?"

Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she tore them away, hoisting her backpack and thanking Reece for the millionth time. Noah grabbed the duffel they'd retrieved from her broken-down 4Runner, and she followed him out of the truck. She paused at the front door, which now stood ajar, and took in a whimsical wooden sign that read, "The Loose Moose," with a moose's head painted on one side. The animal appeared to be either smiling or drunk.

Inside, Charlie was busily turning on lights, testing faucets, and fiddling with the thermostat. The interior was airy and bright and nothing like the dark cabin of her imagination. Beyond that, she barely noticed the charming details in the quaint miner's house that was her home for the night. When Charlie led her to the upstairs bedroom loft, her prime concern became how quickly she could collapse in the fluffy queen-sized bed.

Back downstairs, he handed her a key. "You should be all set. Just don't use the downstairs bathroom because it's still under construction. The owners are fine with you staying here as many nights as you need." He gave her a little wave and headed out the door.

Noah tapped her arm. "You get some rest, okay?" He gave her a warm smile that left her insides gooey.

She had run out of ways to thank him for keeping her alive—and for not mentioning the dog-dash-ending-in-a-car-crash thing. Looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him in for a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered against his neck and released him.

He pulled back, clearly flustered, and shrugged. "It's what folks here do. We look out for each other." After a beat, he added, "Sweet dreams, Hailey Bailey," and closed the door on his way out.

Running on fumes, she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and shed her clothes. The bazillion-count cotton sheets glided across her skin as she located that perfect spot under the thick comforter. Goldilocks's adventures in the home of the three bears danced through her head as she drifted off into glorious slumber.

Hailey dreamed Goldie was knocking on the bears' front door, and she couldn't understand why the audacious girl didn't simply walk in and test out the chairs and the porridge. Hadn't she studied her own fairy tale? But no, this knucklehead knocked and knocked.

Hailey was yanked from her free-floating bliss by a voice calling, "Hello? Anyone home?"

Definitely not Goldilocks.

Panic sluiced through her veins like ice-cold river water, and she shot upright, clasping the covers to her unclad body. Daylight had turned to twilight.

"H-hello?" she called back, unsure if she was talking to a hallucination or a real intruder. Wrapping a quilt around herself, she crept to the railing and looked down.

A familiar woman with brassy blond Texas hair and sparkly blue eyeshadow had let herself into the living room below. She looked up and grinned as if her presence was the most natural thing in the world, apparently nonplussed by Hailey's state of sleep and undress. "Just brought you a little dinner, hon. I'm sure you're all tuckered out, what with your big adventure and all, and since the market and pretty much everything else is closed, the boss thought you could use something to warm your belly. Tonight's special is his mama's own chicken pot pie, so you enjoy. It is dee-licious." She disappeared, her voice trailing after her. Sounds of the fridge and oven doors, accompanied by a few beeps, came from the kitchen.

Hailey's mind raced. If the woman was real and not some apparition from Hailey's snowstorm-fevered imagination, it would be rude to stay upstairs, wouldn't it? Then again, it was pretty rude to barge into someone's home, temporary or otherwise.

Hailey scrambled into her jeans and top and scurried down the stairs as the woman closed the refrigerator door and turned to her. "I'm Dixie, from the Miners Tavern."

Identity confirmed, though it didn't explain why the bar's hostess was standing in Hailey's kitchen in a parka over a leopard-print top and jeans that barely contained her ample hips and thighs.

"I'm Hailey."

"Yes, Hailey Bailey." Dixie nodded solemnly, bobbing her extra-large gold hoop earrings. She jabbed a curved red thumbnail toward the fridge. "I wasn't sure what your poison of choice was, so I brought over a few beers, a split of white and one of red—you know, I've always said these verbo rentals should provide those to their guests, but what can I say, it ain't my place—and a quart of root beer, which is one of my personal favorites."

Hailey's first impulse was to counter Dixie's assumption this was an up-and-running VRBO, but she found herself struggling to keep up with the woman's dizzying dialogue.

"Oh," Dixie ran on, "and I snuck you a mud pie—not that the boss would mind—and a pint of milk to go with it."

"Um, thank you."

Dixie waved her off. "Don't thank me, honey. You can thank the boss." She spread her hands wide. "This was all his idea."

"And who is the boss, exactly?"

Dixie's russet brows knotted over her blue-shadowed eyes. She chewed on the tip of a fingernail as if debating a ponderous problem. "Well, now that I think on it, he might not want you to know this was his doing, though I can't imagine why." She mumbled the last bit to herself but quickly brightened. "It's all so roooomantic!"

What? "If I don't know who he is, how can I thank him?" Hailey gave herself a back pat for coming up with the posit in her current state of delirium.

Dixie offered her a sly smile. "Well, the Miners Tavern sits on Bowen Street, and Bowen is his mama's maiden name." She shook her finger. "Now don't you tell him I gave you that hint. I better get back before Dewey wonders where I got off to." With that, Dixie turned on her snow-booted heels and sashayed out the front door, leaving Hailey more confused than when she'd first arrived.

"That was a hint?" she said to the closed door. "How the hell does someone's maiden name, a street, and a bar point to a mystery man's identity?"

She shook her head, but it didn't clear the fog from her brain. Maybe she had imagined the bizarre encounter. After blinking a few times, she told her feet to move toward the fridge, where she found the promised drinks, a foil-covered bowl, and a plastic-wrapped paper plate holding a wedge of mud pie the size of her head. Were the treats courtesy of a bar manager named Dewey? If so, how would this Dewey person know who Hailey was and that she was staying here? And how could he be romantically interested in her if she'd never met him?

Her head hurt too much to puzzle out the mystery, and her stomach rumbled loudly, not caring about anything but the food waiting to be consumed.

Dixie rushed back through her front door, and Hailey nearly dropped the beer she had just lifted from the fridge. "I forgot to tell you that your dog is at Doc Embry's," she panted, "and that you can see him any time after eight tomorrow morning. Bye now."

Before Hailey could ask who Doc Embry was and where to find him, Dixie darted back out. As soon as the woman exited, Hailey strode to the door and threw the lock.

When Hailey woke the following morning, it was still dark, though her phone told her it wasn't that early: six fifteen. It also told her it was Saint Patrick's Day with tiny dancing shamrocks. When she peered out the window, the sky above was robin's-egg blue, but the jagged peaks surrounding the town crowded out the sunlight, leaving it in morning shadows.

After puzzling out the coffeemaker, she plunked down at a sturdy wooden table and tapped out an email to Cliff, letting him know she was stranded and wouldn't be in. She told herself she was merely letting her co-worker know, when in reality she was reporting her absence to her boss. She tried not to let the new dynamic fester and went to work finding a way to get her 4Runner down from Coal Bank Pass. A search revealed Noah's friend, Micky, held the monopoly in Fall River, but it was too early to call, so she looked up the town's sole veterinary office. Surprise, surprise, it was on Bowen Street.

With time to spare before the clinic opened, she showered, dressed, and ate her only leftover, the mud pie, as she contemplated small-town living. It had its appeal, but would it also be a pain in the butt? Everybody knowing what you were up to—and walking into your dwelling unannounced—not to mention a limited choice on where to take your business if you wanted to stick close. And if you didn't own one of those businesses, what did you do for a paycheck?

Noah tended bar, Charlie was a contractor, and Reece worked search and rescue. That last one was probably a volunteer position, so Reece didn't make money at it. The first two jobs didn't pay well in a town of six hundred. Not that she was looking for work, but after growing up destitute, Hailey often pondered different ways of earning a wage … like making backup plans she didn't need.

A little before eight, she dialed Micky's shop but got no answer. She yanked on her coat, gloves, and knit cap and stepped into the brisk mountain air. The sun had crested the peaks, and Fall River was awash in sunlight that bounced off the glitter blanket of snow. Bowen Street's parking spaces were empty, unlike the last time she'd been here, and the sidewalks had been shoveled.

Walking along the quiet street, she passed closed-up businesses. Her gaze was pulled by eye-fetching display windows filled with antiques, artwork, and jewelry, giving her a close-up view she hadn't appreciated last May. A few of the boutique-y shops were housed in meticulously restored buildings, and her mind wandered to whether Charlie had fixed them up.

She passed city hall, where an old-fashioned bell hung inside an ornate cupola, and stopped a moment to admire the Miners Tavern and another elegant building from the past called the Grand Majestic Hotel.

Even in its shuttered, early-morning state, the town's past stylish sophistication and future potential charm were on display.

"Hailey Bailey!" someone greeted from the next block. A tall man with blond hair in a sheepskin-lined plaid coat waved a gloved hand at her. A grin split her face as she rushed toward Charlie.

His beaming smile widened as she grew closer. "You look like you're feeling much better this morning."

"I am, thanks to you and your brothers." She reined in the urge to push up on tiptoe and peek over his shoulders. "Have you, um, heard from Noah today? I hope he's recovered."

He lifted his chin toward the tavern. "He was fine when I left him last night."

"He didn't go to work, did he?"

"He wasn't behind the bar, but he's always on the clock. I'm sure he didn't crash until he was sure everything was buttoned up."

"So he manages the tavern too?"

Her confusion was reflected in Charlie's expression. "Well, yeah. I mean, Dixie runs the place, but Noah's one of those hands-on kinda owners, so ultimately he manages everything."

Her mouth dropped open. "The Miners Tavern is his?"

"Oops. Guess he forgot to mention that detail while you two were cozied up together." He shook his head. "Typical Noah. We'll go there for lunch later, unless you've got plans."

Unable to muster words, she let out an incredulous laugh—right before realization struck. The owner of the Miners Tavern hated food inspectors. Noah was the bar's owner. Therefore, Noah hated food inspectors. And if he knew what she did for a living, he would hate her too. She stuffed down the disturbing conclusion.

Charlie pointed toward the end of the street, away from the tavern. "Doc Embry's clinic is a few doors down. I was about to text you to see if you were headed that way."

"Yes, I am."

"I'll go with you."

When they reached the clinic—a former livery on the edge of town—Charlie threw open the door and motioned for her to enter. A jingly bell caught the attention of a lab-coated woman behind the reception desk. When her eyes landed on Charlie, her lashes fluttered and her face transformed with a sultry smile.

"Hi, Charlie. Happy Saint Patrick's Day." Her lilting tone was shamelessly flirtatious. Noah's description of his brother as a golden retriever women couldn't stop petting bubbled up in Hailey's brain, and she stifled a giggle. She got it. Charlie was a gorgeous specimen with impeccable bloodlines who would have won every ribbon at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show … if he'd been an actual canine.

His cheeriness was MIA when he returned the woman's greeting. "Hey, Lauren."

Lauren held a paper shamrock over her head. "Give you any ideas?"

His forehead furrowed with a frown. "I think you're confusing that with mistletoe. Is Doc Embry in yet?"

"Go on back to exam room one." Lauren never wasted a glance Hailey's way.

They entered a small exam room painted pale lilac with a steel table jutting from one wall. Charlie closed the door behind them. A second door beside a sink and counter on the opposite side stood ajar, and a fuzzy brown snout pushed through, followed by a feminine voice.

"Hold on there, big fella."

A young blond woman with loose curls caught up in a ponytail walked in, holding a leash attached to a dog who resembled Rover. She released the lead, and he slunk toward Hailey, his watchful eyes trained on Charlie. He wore a harness, and the leash skimmed the floor behind him. He stopped, tucked in his tail, and shivered pathetically. Instinctively, Hailey dropped to a knee and waited; his demeanor flipped a switch. Soon he was nuzzling her hand and wagging his tail while she ruffled the happy animal's neck.

"Wow," Charlie exclaimed. "Guess I'm chopped liver."

"Don't feel bad, dude. He reacted the same way to my male tech." The blond woman closed the door and crossed her arms. She raised steel-blue eyes to Charlie. "Chopped Liver Charlie? I bet that's one name you haven't been called before."

"Then I won't take it personally."

Hailey glimpsed him blowing the woman a discreet kiss and her answering smirk. What was that all about? She cleared her throat to get their attention. "Is this the same dog?"

"Yep. Amazing what a bath, food, and rest can do. The meds come in handy too." The woman extended her hand to Hailey, who rose to her feet and shook it. "I'm Neve Embry. I hear you rescued this poor pooch."

"DocEmbry?" Hailey blurted, caught off guard. In her mind's eye, she'd pictured the doctor as a kindly gray-haired man with a walrus mustache, not this dainty woman only a few years her senior. Jeez, sexist much?

"Yes," Doc Embry laughed. "But you can call me Neve. Let me tell you a little about your dog."

Hailey pressed a hand to her chest. "Oh, he's not my dog."

Charlie winked at Neve. "Yet."

"No, you don't understand—"

A panting Noah barged in, startling Hailey but seemingly no one else. She doubted anyone else's heart skipped a beat or ten either.

"Hey, mind if I join you?" He pulled off his knit cap, and dark strands stood in a chaotic array that made Hailey want to smooth them back. Rover watched, ears cocked and alert, but didn't cower.

Neve's grin broadened. "Of course you can. It's always a good day when I'm in the same room with two Hunnicutt brothers. Now about that third one …"

Charlie shifted his weight from one foot to the other, stealing glances at Neve. Noah opened his mouth only to close it again. Neve raised an eyebrow. Palpable awkwardness charged the air, and while Hailey caught silent signals, she didn't have the cipher to interpret what they meant.

Noah darted a glance her way. "Hey, you look like you're feeling better."

"It's amazing what a bath, food, and rest can do," she quipped. Neve sent her an amused wink.

Noah bent down to Rover, and the dog backed up.

"Try not to lean over him," Neve instructed. "You're big and scary to a dog when you do that."

Without missing a beat, Noah knelt and held out his hand for the pup to sniff. "Hey, boy. Remember me? We spent a cold night together in my truck." Rover took a sniff, gave him a lick, and rocked against his shoulder happily. "Wow, dog. You smell a hundred times better," he chuckled.

"So about this dog," Neve continued. "First of all, his name is not Rover. He's chipped, and according to his vet in Cortez, his name is Lex Luthor."

Noah looked up at Neve and blinked. "Are you serious? That's a terrible name."

"Rover's not much better," Charlie tossed out.

Noah glared at him. "That's Hailey's name for him."

Noah's defense of her moniker caught Hailey off guard. She wasn't used to people sticking up for her, unless it was Kaylee. But watching Noah do it? Her heart might have melted a little.

"Sorry, Hailey. I was just looking for something to needle my brother about." Charlie's pained expression made her want to bust out a laugh and pull him in for a bear hug.

She waved her hand. "It's okay. Really. It was just a placeholder name." She turned to Neve. "What else did you learn?"

"He's an Airedale-retriever mix who's four years old. He weighs forty-five pounds right now, but sixty is probably a more normal weight when he's healthy."

An image of Noah carrying Lex Luthor to the truck popped and bobbed in Hailey's brain. "Is his family looking for him?" Her hopes climbed but quickly plummeted when Neve shook her head.

"Unfortunately, his family gave him up to a shelter. One of the children developed asthma, and the pediatrician concluded it was because of an allergy to the dog."

"Oh. That's so sad."

"Well, he was adopted out about a few weeks ago."

Hailey brightened. "Then he does have a family."

Neve's mouth moved side to side, and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling, as if crafting a careful answer.

Charlie's eyebrows knotted together in a frown. "What aren't you telling us?"

Neve leveled her eyes on him. "I found evidence of abuse, recent abuse, like cigarette burns, bruising around his neck—which is why I had to put him in a body harness instead of a collar—and some hairline fractures that indicate he was slammed against something hard. Repeatedly."

Hailey gasped.

Charlie muttered, "Son of a bitch, that's why he's afraid of dudes."

Noah stared at Neve in disbelief. He scratched Lex Luthor's thick-furred back. "Could he have gotten those fractures when he jumped from a car?"

"I don't think so. The injuries don't line up. I'm guessing he either ran away or was abandoned in the woods. Another thing to note is that he hasn't eaten in days, maybe weeks. Maybe not since he was adopted."

Tears built behind Hailey's eyes, and she felt a corresponding burn in her chest. Noah sent her a sympathetic look, as if he knew this news about killed her.

Charlie scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sensing you don't want to turn him back over to his new owner. Am I right, Neve?"

Neve shook her head. "I'd prefer not to, but I have an obligation. Now if you were to dognap him, there's not much I could do."

"I already have two dogs," Charlie pointed out. "Girl dogs. They don't share." He exchanged another covert look with Neve.

More moments of silence ticked by.

"Fine, he's got a new owner," Noah growled. "Can you replace the old chip with one that ties him back to me?" Charlie's and Neve's astonished faces turned toward him. "What?"

Charlie narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Thought you didn't want a dog."

Noah shrugged. "If the only way to rescue this dog from his dumbass name is to adopt him, then I'm in."

Hailey crossed her arms to keep herself from flinging them around his neck. Instead, she gave him a broad smile, which he returned with a sheepish one. The grumpy guy was a closet marshmallow, and he knew that she knew his secret. The sweet, silent kinship that passed between them lit her up inside.