No Ordinary Home

“You want a mouser for the barn?” Finn asked. “I’ve got a real little cutie in the office right now.”

What office?

“No one’s adopting her. All everyone wants these days is kittens.” He ate more peanuts. “I don’t want to put her down. Worst part of the job is putting down healthy animals just ’cause they don’t have a home.”

Finn was a veterinarian?

“I’d really like to find her a home.”

“You can’t take her to your dad’s ranch?” Austin asked.

Finn grinned. “Dad would kill me if I brought home another stray. He knows how much I love animals, but put his foot down after the last dog I brought over.”

Austin smiled. “Yeah, I remember all the strays you took home even before you became a vet.”

Ah. So he really was a vet. He had at least that going for him even if he was a jerk in other ways.

“Sure.” Austin shifted gears. “I’ll take the cat.”

A satisfied grin lit Finn’s face.

Finn made a joke about a bunch of cows in a field they were passing and Austin laughed—so the man could laugh—the affection between them palpable.

Again, that pang of envy.

Even before Gracie had run away, there had been few people she could trust. There’d been Gran and...that was it. No one else.

Now Gran was gone and Gracie was alone.

The men laughed and she pulled her gaze away from the fields flying past the vehicle.

Her stomach cramped. Crap, she felt sick and shivery. Her stomach churned.

It cramped again, hard and sharp.

“Stop the car,” she croaked.

“What?”

A strong breeze rushed through the open windows, but it wasn’t enough to stem the rush of bile into her throat.

“Stop the car,” she shouted.

Austin jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes. The car fishtailed on the gravel shoulder.

Gracie just managed to scramble out and make it to the ditch before losing her lunch.

She retched until there was nothing left, and she wanted to cry. All of that food wasted when her body needed it so badly.

She heard footsteps on the road behind her, calm and measured. Had to be Austin.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Here.” A hand held a tissue in front of her face.

Embarrassing. It wasn’t bad enough the man had to see her as a homeless person, now he had to witness this indignity?

“Sorry,” she said.

He rested his hand on her back while she retched one more time, his touch reassuring. She wiped her mouth.

“You have any gum or mints?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He removed his hand. She missed the warmth. She heard him walk to the car. He returned a minute later with a pack of gum.

“Thanks.” She took two sticks because her mouth tasted like crap and the gum was sweet and minty. The chewing and her saliva helped to settle her stomach.

She wiped her damp forehead and brushed sweat from her upper lip. When her legs stopped shaking, she returned to the vehicle with Austin keeping step beside her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Just sorry I had to lose that food.”

He climbed into the driver’s seat while she got into the back. She had to give him credit. Not a single I told you so. There was something to be said for the strong, silent type.

Trouble started, though, once they reached the small town midway to Denver when Austin parked on the street near a small hotel and Gracie walked into a back alley to sleep for the night.

“What?” Austin gaped. “No way am I letting you sleep in an alleyway.”

“Letting me?” Gracie asked, voice dangerously quiet. “You bought me lunch. You gave me a drive. I appreciate it. That doesn’t give you rights, or any say in what I do or where I go.” She set her knapsack on the ground on the far side of a Dumpster, where she could hide from the prying eyes of anyone walking past.

Austin followed her. “You can’t sleep here.”

“I can and will. It’s a warm night.” Although the sky had darkened on the drive and thunder rumbled in the distance. Gracie walked to the back door of a store that fronted onto the street they’d parked on, where bales of compacted cardboard had been put out for recycling.

Taking a folding knife from her back pocket, she slit the baling wire and dragged a couple of large boxes to set up a bed for herself.

“You’re going to sleep out in the rain when I’m offering you a place to stay, free of charge?”

“That’s right. I’ll cut your hair in the morning. That’s for lunch. I can’t afford to pay you back for a hotel room.”

He stood arms akimbo and brow as thunderous as the approaching storm. “I’m not asking for payment.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t give you something in return.”

“You don’t like taking.” His quiet tone said he understood too much.

“No,” she answered. “I don’t like owing anyone anything. Not one dime. I like my independence.”