Light My Fire

7. Jackson

CHAPTER 7

Jackson

“Good morning,” I say, giving Brooke a warm smile as I enter the kitchen. I’ve chosen not to get dressed, but am still in my lounge pants with no underwear and a white T-shirt.

My sister told me about the gray sweatpants love some women have. She said it’s the male equivalent of a sundress. It gives a preview for any interested parties.

I want Brooke to be interested. Curious. Flirtatious.

“Good morning,” she says, returning the smile from her stool at the island. Her eyes dart below my waist and her cheeks turn a delightful pink color. She immediately raises her mug to her mouth to hide her expression.

I fight the urge to grin.

“There’s coffee or I can make you some tea,” she says. She’s already put a bra on under her sweatshirt, much to my disappointment.

“I’ll have coffee, thank you, sweetheart.”

Luke is sitting three stools away from her at the island. A glance in his mug as I cruise past shows he’s drinking black coffee. He has a piece of bacon and two eggs on his plate in front of him. “You cooking for everyone?”

“Brooke said she isn’t hungry.”

“I’m hungry.” I head for the coffeemaker.

“There’s the stove.”

I don’t actually expect anyone to cook for me. It’s just entertaining to bait Luke. “Where’s Wyatt?”

“Probably still sleeping.” Luke sips his coffee. He’s fully dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt.

If Luke has been this short with Brooke too, she’s probably dying for Wyatt to get up. Guess it’s up to me to entertain her because Luke certainly isn’t trying. Now that I know how he feels about her, though, I know exactly what his issue is. He’s fighting the urge to push Brooke against the nearest wall and kiss her senseless.

Which makes me wonder how she would react to that.

I sense she wouldn’t object in any way. She keeps darting glances over at him like he intrigues her.

“Do you hear that?” I ask as I press buttons and wait for the coffee maker to do its magic. “What is that?” The sound has just started, but it sounds like something walking around on the deck. Not a person. More like a creature. I turn and peer toward the sliding door.

If I see a Sasquatch, I’m going to be really damn excited.

The snow has stopped, and the sun is shining, causing a blinding glare off of the snow that is piled a good twelve inches on the deck. I see a blur of fur pacing back and forth rapidly. “Is that a dog?”

Brooke turns. “Oh! That’s the neighbor’s dog, Henley. She likes to pop over and say hi. She’s so smart that she knows a car in the driveway means someone is home.”

She’s already standing up to go to the door.

“What kind of dog is she? A Lab?” I love all dogs, but I have a true fondness for Labs. I follow her to the slider.

Brooke is yanking it open and Henley tumbles in, tossing snow up in the air with her snout on her way through the door. Brooke laughs. “Hey, girl. Hi, how are you?” She scratches her behind her ears and bends down to give the dog a kiss on the head.

I reach out to pet her as well, but Henley whines and skitters away. “What’s wrong? Don’t like strangers?”

“She loves everyone,” Brooke says, squatting down to cup Henley’s snout with both hands. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

I shut the door. Suddenly, Brooke is running her hands down Henley’s flank and over her belly, her expression one of concentration. The look alarms me. “What’s wrong?”

The dog is shivering, panting, and moving anxiously in Brooke’s arms. She’s whining again. I can’t imagine she’s cold because Labs generally love being outside in all weather.

“Um…Henley is pregnant. And I’m pretty sure she’s in labor.”

“Right now?” I ask, astonished. “Oh, shit! What do we do? Can you call her owner?”

“I’m not dragging her back across the yard. We don’t even have a leash and I don’t want her running off in a panic. She’s only two, so this is probably her first litter. She’s nervous.”

Suddenly, I’m nervous too. “So, how do we help her?” I bend down and run my hand over Henley’s coat. “Hey, sweetie, it’s okay. You’ve got this, girl. Brooke is here to help you.” I trust she’s in very capable hands.

Brooke is examining Henley carefully from head to tail. “We need a whelping box for her. A safe place for the delivery.”

Wyatt comes down the stairs, his hair damp from his shower. “What’s going on?”

“We’re having puppies,” I tell him.

“What? Oh, my God. That’s…amazing.” Wyatt grins. “Whose dog is this?”

“The neighbor’s,” I tell him.

Luke has stood up and joined us. “What kind of box do you need?” he asks.

“Something big enough for her and the puppies that we can line with towels,” Brooke says, her eyes still on the dog. “I wish we had a dog bed or a kennel but we’re going to have to improvise.”

“How about my suitcase?” I ask. “It’s pretty big.”

“It’s absurdly big,” Luke tells me.

“Or the boxes we carried the food in,” Wyatt says. “I could cut off the side and tape a few together.”

“We don’t want to ruin anyone’s luggage. The boxes would work,” she says. “Jackson, can you get some towels while Wyatt does that?”

“Of course.”

Luke has gotten on the floor beside Brooke and Henley with a blanket from the basket by the fireplace and is gently drying her snow dampened fur off.

I jog up the stairs to the bathroom in my bedroom while Wyatt goes into the kitchen to retrieve the boxes. When I come back downstairs with half a dozen towels, Wyatt is already using a pocket knife to splice the sides off of four boxes. Brooke has Henley leaning against her. There’s fluid on the floor.

“Did she have an accident?”

“That’s vaginal discharge from the contractions. She’s in really advanced labor.”

I’m not sure I’m ready for this, but I guess I’d better be. “How advanced?”

“A puppy should be here any minute. No more than an hour.”

I feel a little queasy as I take in the scene, but I still ask, “Shouldn’t she lay down?” I don’t even know why I ask that. It’s not like I’ve seen any animal or human give birth other than in movies and on TV. They usually make it seem very dramatic but Brooke looks completely calm and even Henley seems to have settled down.

“She’s fine until the box is ready.”

I head to the kitchen to grab some paper towels to clean the floor, digging under the sink for some wood cleaner. I find what I need and get to cleaning up the mess.

“Thanks,” Brooke says, giving me a smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s not a problem. My mother taught me how to clean. She always said she was raising her future daughter-in-law’s husband, not a son.”

Brooke laughs softly. “I like your mom.”

“Me too. She’s a great woman.” I look out the back door. “Where do the neighbors live? Why would they let this dog out if she’s in labor?”

“They must not have realized she was having contractions.”

I’m not sure how they could have missed Henley’s anxiety. I feel a little judgmental about that but I keep my mouth shut.

“I think this will work.” Wyatt and Luke carry over a cobbled together box and set it down next to the fireplace.

“That’s perfect.” Brooke nods in approval. “Great improvisation.”

The sides are secured with duct tape, and when they set it down, I unroll the towels and start laying them inside.

“Do we need to know anything?” Luke asked. “I’ve never seen this with a dog.”

Luke’s expression is stern, his face white.

Shit.

Wyatt and I exchange looks. We both know what he’s thinking about.

Marci. His cheating ex-wife who let him go through a whole pregnancy, and labor and delivery thinking her baby was his only to have her lover show up at the hospital demanding entrance and a DNA test. It was obviously traumatizing and I can tell he’s trying to ignore the feelings it’s pulling up.

“Lab litters are big, anywhere from five to twelve puppies, but a first time mom usually has a litter on the smaller side. They’ll come every fifteen minutes or so, and Mom will chew off the umbilical cord. We just need to make sure the little guys are all breathing and that they suckle and that the number of placentas that pass matches the number of puppies. We’ll need to change the bedding periodically but without disturbing Henley anymore than we have to. But mostly we monitor and she does the work.”

I’m impressed with how soothing and calm Brooke is. She helps Henley into the box and encourages her to lie down. I decide to go get her tea and reheat it in the microwave. I bring it over and set it on the fireplace hearth.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks. Can someone go look in the linen closet for a heating pad? I think my grandmother keeps one in there. I doubt Blake would have gotten rid of it since he bought the house.”

“Sure.” Luke is off at a fast pace, clearly needing a task.

“What happens to all those placentas?” I ask, thinking about a half dozen puppies being born and the afterbirth just being…there.

“Henley will probably eat them.”

“Holy fuck.” I feel my stomach flip.

I turn and go and retrieve my coffee that brewed fifteen minutes ago and take a sip. It’s only lukewarm but I don’t care. I was going to make breakfast but I’ve definitely lost my appetite.

Wyatt is laughing at me. “You’re not going to faint, are you?” he asks, scraping ash out of the fireplace from the night before.

“No, of course not.” I don’t think. But me and blood? We’re not the best fit.

Henley is licking herself very loudly.

I’m not a huge fan of that either but I just grimace and take another huge gulp of my coffee. Brooke is holding her glass tea mug between her two hands and takes a delicate sip. She looks gorgeous right now, her eyes sharp and intelligent, her gaze firmly on the laboring dog. Her neck is long and graceful and I focus on it so my stomach will stop twisting, fantasizing about kissing along the length of that smooth swath of skin.

“Can I get you anything to eat?” I ask her.

“I’m fine for now. I don’t usually eat breakfast.”

“That’s no good,” Wyatt says, reaching out and massaging the back of the very neck I was just imagining touching. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

She shrugs. “I don’t like to chew first thing in the morning. Where did I put my phone? I should text the neighbors and let them know what’s going on. They might be out looking for Henley by now.”

Let them look, in my opinion, but I saw her phone on the island, so I just go and retrieve it. She takes it and scrolls, then taps out a text. Then she sets her phone down on the hearth and stands up. “I need to go wash my hands, just in case.”

“What happens if something happens while you’re gone?” I ask, suddenly panicked.

“I’m just going to the kitchen. Let me know if you see a tail instead of a head, otherwise everything should be fine.”

I brave a glance at Henley but I don’t see anything other than her pink belly, thank God. I look at Wyatt, but he’s set a pile of wood and is now lighting the fire. I squat down and look Henley in the eye. “You’re good. I’m good. Everything is good here,” I murmur.

She stares at me with soulful brown eyes that melt my damn heart. Her tongue is hanging out, and she’s panting, but otherwise she seems chill now. Mom mode activated.

But then I see a burst of fluid and a white… something coming out of her. I slam my coffee down on the floor and yell, “Brooke, something is happening!”

She comes running over with a stack of hand towels.

“Is that right?” I ask her. “Is it supposed to look like that?”

“Yes, that’s normal. Puppy is on her way.”

I let out my breath and put my hands on my head. “Shit. Okay. Cool.” Then I realize the box is only a few feet from the fireplace. “Luke, close that door already. I don’t want any sparks popping out.”

He does obediently but he also says, “It’s five feet. I think it’s okay.”

“I feel like this should be a more sterile environment.” Mostly I’m just talking because I’m afraid to look at Henley. But then I look because I don’t want to miss this. When am I ever going to see puppies being born?

That’s exactly what I see. A tiny damp puppy. Henley turns her head and licks the newborn.

“Holy…”

“There we go,” Brooke says encouragingly. “Good job, Henley. You’re doing amazing.”

I’m honestly in awe. It’s astonishing how Henley knows exactly what to do.

“Whoa,” Wyatt says. “That’s incredible. Look at how tiny that little guy is.”

“Oh, another one is coming. Let’s get this one out of the way.” She retrieves the puppy and wraps it in a towel, rubbing its fur dry. “It’s a boy. Here, Jackson, just run your hand down his fur to encourage him to breathe and cry.”

Suddenly, I’m holding a micro Labrador puppy in a kitchen towel with mushrooms printed on it and it weighs next to nothing. I run my hand down its tiny length, a little overwhelmed at how small and adorable it is. His little head is the size of a chicken nugget. I pet him gently down his back again, drying him off with the towel. The puppy gives a mewling little cry that kicks me in the gut. “He’s crying now. We’re good.”

I cradle him against my chest and decide right then and there once this puppy is weaned, he’s mine for the rest of time. I don’t care if Henley’s owners have promised him to someone or they’re going to sell him. I’ll pay ten times their offer. I’m fucking in love with this dog.

There’s immediately another puppy and Brooke hands him to Wyatt, who looks as enamored as I feel. Then Brooke holds her hands out to me. “Let me give him back to Henley for a minute. There should be a twenty-minute break or so before there is another one.”

I’m reluctant to give this pint-sized piece of perfection back, but I do. Henley starts licking the puppy and seems more relaxed.

“Can you go get Henley some water?”

“Sure.” Hopefully I miss the whole placenta thing.

“That one is a girl,” Brooke says, pointing to the puppy Wyatt is cradling in a cloth.

“She’s adorable,” Wyatt says. “And Brooke, you’re so incredible right now. You’re going to be an amazing vet.”

“Thanks.” She smiles at him as I walk away and I see it—the way they look at each other. With clear affection.

I’m not exactly jealous.

More like I’m picturing me behind her and Wyatt in front of her and we’re both kissing on her. Which would probably overwhelm her on every level. I need to focus on what Brooke needs, not what I want.

I need more coffee. But first I get the water for Henley, wondering if I need to go check on Luke. He’s been gone a long time and I know he’s in his head right now. But when I’m holding the bowl in front of Henley and she laps a little, he reappears, heating pad in hand.

“Sorry. I had to dig.” He bends down and plugs it into the wall without looking at any of us.

“You missed the first two,” Brooke tells him. “A boy and a girl.”

“No kidding.” He glances in the box. Then his expression softens. “Well, damn. Look at that.”

“Both Henley and Brooke are actually rock stars right now,” I tell him.

“I can see that.” Luke squats down and rubs Henley behind the ears. “Good job, girl.”

“If you rub my head next, I won’t object,” Brooke says with a smile.

Luke ignores that.

Her smile falters.

Wyatt leans over and ruffles her hair a little. He clearly means it to be flirtatious and compensate for Luke, but she doesn’t react much to his touch. I don’t exactly know what to make of that but maybe she’s just concentrating on Henley.

We spend the next five hours on the floor by the box, playing cards, snacking, and casually chatting. Henley has three more puppies and Brooke says she thinks she might be done.

“Three boys and two girls.” Brooke shifts the boy we’ve named Tank—because he’s way bigger than the other four—away from Henley. “Tank is hogging. We need to let the little guys feed first.”

I’ve named my puppy Nugget. Wyatt named the first girl born Licorice and Brooke the third boy Henry, because she said he looks serious. We’re all hanging back waiting for Luke to name the other girl but so far he’s kept his mouth shut. He seems to be enjoying this more than I expected, though, so that’s good to see.

“I should take Henley outside to go to the bathroom and we should change out the box bedding while she’s going potty.”

“I can do that.” Wyatt is practically falling all over himself to be helpful to Brooke.

I’m fighting the urge to cradle Nugget. Instead, I go one better and pull Brooke in for a hug. “Great job, Dr. Wilder.”

She laughs and hugs me back. “Thanks. I had amazing support staff. Henley did all the hard work, though.”

Wyatt also hugs her, before she bends down to help Henley up and out of the box.

Once they’re out on the deck, I sit down to just watch the puppies, who are wriggling and making noises of discontent. I adjust the heating pad that is wrapped in a towel.

“Hey, you okay?” I ask Luke.

He nods. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Wyatt has taken a few steps in the direction of the stairs to get more towels, but he pauses.

“Yes.” He gestures to the back deck. “Looks like the neighbor is here.”

A man is down on his haunches, petting Henley.

“Just the man I want to talk to,” I say. “Luke, watch the puppies.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Luke tells me.

“That’s classic coming from you. I just want to tell him this little family is all staying here until we leave. That’s all.”

“Brooke has probably already told him that.”

“Then I’ll let her know I have her back.”

I yank open the sliding door.