“Not my first, but it’s been a long time. This one”—she lifted the bag in her left hand—“was my friend Andrew’s.” She put both bags down on the Adirondack behind her, staying close to the fire to keep warm.
“I hear you and my brother had a good time today.”
“How did you hear that?” Certainly not from Maverick. She doubted he’d characterize their time together as “good.”
“I guess it was more of an observation. I asked him how it went with the tour of the trees and he got an annoyed look on his face.”
She laughed.
“Which, for the record, I hope means you weren’t annoyed, too. What’s the story with you two?”
“No story.” She didn’t want to be rude and tell Hunter his brother had been an A-plus jerk in college.
“There’s some story there. Only one other girl has ever gotten him worked up like you do.”
She stared at the yellow and orange flames of the fire, unsure what to make of that. Her cheeks heated, from the heat but also—weirdly—from the pleasure of knowing she affected Maverick on more than a superficial level. That saying about knowing your enemy and keeping them close might be true for reasons she’d been afraid to examine too closely.
She was about to ask Hunter about this other girl when a man cleared his throat from behind them. That she knew without a glance it was Maverick sent a string of goose bumps up her arms.
“Hey, big brother, we were just talking about you.”
Maverick frowned. “I came to find you. I think it’s time.”
“Yeah?” Hunter’s voice rose an octave, excitement clear as the star-filled sky.
“Time for what?” Kennedy asked.
“Barley is having her babies,” Hunter said. At Kennedy’s confused expression, he added, “Barley is Mav’s dog.”
“Oh, wow. Can I come? I’ve never seen puppies being born before.” She might not be keen on horses and mules, but she liked dogs and loved the practice of medicine in all its forms.
“Sure,” Hunter said, while Maverick pressed his nice lips together in coolness.
Nice lips? She must be on a sugar high if she was assigning an adjective to his mouth. For the rest of the night, she vowed not to notice them again.
“Come on,” Maverick said. “I’ve got my truck.”
“Where are we going?” Kennedy asked, following the men at a good clip. With Reed nowhere in sight and no communication from him, she couldn’t think of anything better than watching puppies come into the world.
“My house.” Maverick opened the front passenger-side door for her, effectively directing Hunter to the back seat. Rather than complain, Hunter simply smirked at his brother.
Kennedy clicked her seat belt into place. She had a million questions. Was the vet meeting them there? Were home births common? How long was labor? Was this Barley’s first litter? But when Maverick slid into his seat and looked at her, he must have seen the curiosity written all over her face because, before she could get out a single word, he pressed his finger to her lips. So surprised to feel his calloused skin on one of the softest parts of her, she stayed absolutely silent.
“All your questions will be answered there,” he said calmly.
She managed a small nod, and he dropped his arm.
They drove down a private road (so noted by a sign) for maybe two minutes, before coming to a cabin—a log cabin!—nestled at the bottom of a hill. Lights shone from inside, and outside was a porch and stand-alone fence—the kind used to tie a horse to.
Maverick parked and they went inside.
In the corner of the homey and spacious living room, her eyes landed on a large wooden enclosure about two feet high with a front opening, like a doghouse without a roof. Maverick and Hunter strode straight to it, so Kennedy followed.
“This is what’s known as a whelping box,” Maverick said, kneeling down at the opening.
“Whelping?” Kennedy said, standing beside him.
“Whelping is what the canine birth process is called,” he said.
“Barley’s been making herself comfortable,” Hunter said. “In preparation to deliver.” He stood on the other side of his brother and stared down at the mom-to-be.
She had golden fur and pointy black ears. Her bedding looked pawed at and she gazed at Maverick as if to say, Please help me get this over with. A stack of towels and a laundry basket lined with a blanket were also inside the whelping box.
There was no one else in the house. No sign of a veterinarian, which meant… “Are you delivering the puppies?”
“I’m here if Barley needs me,” Maverick said in a soft voice, so composed that Kennedy couldn’t help but admire the way he stared back at his dog. Man’s best friend was definitely in play. “Female dogs know what to do by instinct, so she’ll do most of the work. We know she’s ready to go into labor because the sixty-four days or so of gestation are up, she hasn’t eaten all day, been restless, and before I picked you guys up, she was licking herself.”
“Mav might not have graduated vet school, but he finished enough of it,” Hunter said with pride and a gentle voice as well.
So he did go to vet school. Kennedy tucked that information away to ask about later. Tonight was about Barley.
“Is this her first time giving birth?” Kennedy asked quietly.
“Yes,” Maverick said, shifting to sit down with his leg bent in front of him. Hunter got on his knees and draped his arms over the edge of the box.
Both brothers kept their attention on Barley, their expressions full of adoration. Kennedy’s stomach fluttered when her gaze caught on Maverick’s enraptured profile. She’d watched dads give support to their wives during childbirth, but none had ever captured the slightest bit of regard from her. This side of Maverick appealed to every part of her as a woman.
She darted her gaze back to Barley to cure herself of that unwelcome thought.
“Bear—that’s the golden on the ranch next door—got frisky with Barley when we weren’t looking,” Hunter said.
“Barley and Bear, that’s cute,” she said, then, “oh my gosh, what is that?”
“That grayish sac,” Maverick said, “means the first puppy is on the way soon.”
Kennedy dropped down next to him, hand on his jean-clad knee to steady herself while she got situated. It was an unconscious move, but when their eyes met—for one second, two seconds, three seconds—awareness burned through her and she’d swear it swept over Maverick, too. They both looked away.