Chapter 14
Fourteen
Cretia had never witnessed a miracle before. But there was no other word to describe the wonder of Bella delivering ten healthy puppies. The way she cleaned and nuzzled them, snuggling them close, warming them with her body.
She’d settled into the corner opposite the heating lamp that Finn had set up. After all, no woman wanted to give birth under a spotlight.
The puppies wiggled and squeaked, their eyes still tightly pinched shut. All thriving.
Until the last one.
Finn’s neck went stiff when the final pup was born, his face drawn tight as he watched Bella. She licked and prodded the puppy, but it didn’t respond. It didn’t move.
Cretia grabbed Finn’s arm. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t know yet, but will you grab me one of those towels and get the aspirator?”
“The what?” She launched herself at the pile of clean towels, searching for anything that looked remotely like the word sounded.
“The blue thing with the bulb on the end.”
She couldn’t understand how his voice remained so calm. Her heart thundered against her ribs, and she wanted to scream or cry or do something. Because the puppy still wasn’t moving.
As far as she could tell, it wasn’t breathing.
She snatched the blue bulb, nearly flinging it and the towel at him as she fell to his side.
Finn’s movements were much more measured, his shoulders rising and falling in even breaths. Scooping the little black bundle up in the towel, he rubbed his hands along its sides. But the puppy didn’t respond to the stimulation.
Bella lifted her head to see what he was doing, and Cretia smoothed her brow. “It’s okay, girl. He’s going to take good care of your little one. He’s gonna be just fine.”
Lord, let that be true.
Cretia couldn’t remember the last time she’d consciously prayed. It had probably been about her mom. A cry for God to heal her, to take away the illness that had stolen so much from them.
He hadn’t answered then, and Cretia didn’t have any indication that he would do so now. Still, she begged him. Save this little puppy. Please.
Maybe it was habit, but something made her reach for her phone. She pulled it out and began recording the scene. She’d probably never use this footage. It wasn’t about likes or comments or brand deals. This was for Finn. And for herself.
Years down the road, when she thought of him, she’d remember this moment. The gentle way he cradled a helpless puppy, the soft words he spoke over a frightened mom. The confidence of his actions and the steadiness of his hands.
Hers were shaking—the video absolutely unusable even if she had wanted to.
Chewing on her lip, she watched Finn lay the towel over his lap. He stretched the puppy out so its little head hung lower and gravity could help. Squeezing the blue bulb, he pressed the tip into its mouth, released the bulb, and then emptied the contents on the towel. He did it seven or eight times until the tool came back empty.
But the puppy still didn’t move.
“Come on, little guy.” Finn waited a beat and then lifted the puppy to his mouth. After breathing into its mouth and nose with three gentle blows, he paused again.
Suddenly the dog twitched then squirmed on its own, and a smile wider than the horizon broke across Finn’s face as he stood and put the puppy down beside its brothers and sisters.
Bella gave him what could only be a bark of gratitude, and he rubbed her ears. “You did so good, girl.”
Cretia wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her forehead against his shoulder and snuggling into the warmth of his fleece sweater—or maybe it was just his warmth. “That was incredible. How did you know how ...?”
“It wasn’t the first time. The vet taught me how to do it—I think so he wouldn’t keep getting calls in the middle of the night.”
“Will the vet come check on him at least?”
“Yeah. I’ll call him in the morning to take a look at all of them. For now, they just need some milk and rest. But it looks like they’re all eating.” And Bella was asleep with a smile on her face.
Cretia pulled back far enough to look into his face. “Do you wonder whose life you just saved?”
Crevices rolled across his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what if that little guy grows up to rescue someone? Maybe someone who fell into a harbor. And he jumps in and rescues them. He wouldn’t have been around to do that if you hadn’t saved him.”
A tired smile crinkled the corners of his eyes as he pulled her in tighter for a hug. “I see your point, but just so you know—if Joe Jr. hadn’t been there that day, I would have jumped in to save you myself.”
She should leave. The farm. The town. The island.
This was getting dangerous for her heart. It wasn’t Bella or the puppies. It wasn’t Marie or Little Jack. It wasn’t even Joe Jr.’s snuggles.
Finn was the one who would leave her heartbroken.
Actually, she’d be the one to leave. And he’d likely have no idea.
Forcing herself to take a step away from his warmth and the security of his arms, she shoved her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. “So, what are you going to name them?”
His lips pursed to the side, his eyebrows meeting over the bridge of his nose. “When I was a kid, my dad let me name a litter after Transformers.”
“Transformers? Like Megatron?”
Finn snorted. “No. He’s a Decepticon. They were Optimus Prime and Bumblebee and Cliffjumper and such.”
“And I’m weird because I watched Handy Manny ?” She gave his elbow a playful push but jerked back almost as soon as she touched him. She couldn’t seem to keep her hands to herself when he was around.
Or from fixating on how much she liked it.
Maybe she was simply starved for touch. She’d read once that the average adult needed four hugs a day just to survive. And until she’d wound up in Finn’s arms after her dunking in the harbor, she hadn’t been hugged in months. Maybe years. That day, he’d proven himself strong, stable, and kind.
That had to explain his magnetic pull.
But it didn’t mean she wasn’t going to fight it.
She took another step away.
“Is this litter going to get named after toys or cartoons? Strawberry Shortcake or something?”
He squinted at the squeaking puppies. “I was thinking potatoes.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You know, like Spud, Tater, Chip ... The island is famous for its potatoes, and the puppies kind of resemble them in shape if not color.”
“You couldn’t even get halfway through naming all of them.”
He waved off her argument. “We’ll get creative. We have time.”
He had time. She had just long enough for a box to fly over the Atlantic and find its way to the inn with the red door—and that was only if she didn’t call the delivery company back and ask them to hold it for her in Italy.
Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to go to Italy. She was going to stay right where she was until her computer arrived.
But until then, she was definitely going to keep as much space as possible between them.
The squirming black spuds caught her eye.
Well, maybe she could come down to the farm for a visit or two before she left. Julia Mae was sure to want to see the new arrivals.
“Tomorrow will be a busy day for me, what with the vet visit.” Finn pushed his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “But I got a call earlier from someone up near the North Point.”
She raised her eyebrows in question.
“There’s a cow that needs a new home, and I thought maybe you’d like to go pick it up with me in a day or two.”
“A cow? Like Roberta? You know how much she hates me.”
Finn chuckled. “Roberta doesn’t hate you. She just isn’t sure what you’re doing here.”
That made two of them.
“But this one is a miniature Highland cow.”
“The little ones with long hair and adorable noses? The ones that have taken social media by storm?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Right. Because the man basically had a dial-up system on a computer from 1981.
“The owners thought it would make a cute pet.”
That sounded right.
“But it’s pretty much destroyed their living room. It needs an outside home, some grass, and some room to roam.”
“And you want me to go with you?”
Her mother’s reminder about drugs popped into her head. Just say no.
She did not need to go with him. It wasn’t smart. She couldn’t really be helpful. And she had just decided to limit her time with him.
This was not limiting her time.
“I’m sure you’re—”
He cut her off before she could finish. “I thought I could show you a few of my favorite spots on the island on the way. Maybe they’d make good videos for your work.”
Shoot.
“So, how did you get into ... what did you call it? Creating stuff?” Finn glanced across the cab of his truck at Cretia, who had been silent for the last ten minutes. It wasn’t a strained silence, just quiet. Only the rattle of the stick shift to fill the space. He’d turn on the radio, but he didn’t want to risk missing her words when she chose to speak.
Cretia didn’t seem to mind the stillness, her head turned toward the window as she watched the bay amble by, its tides coming and going in a gentle rhythm against the big red rocks of the national park shore. Tall pine trees—sentinels of the Gulf of St. Lawrence—sometimes blocked the view, but they didn’t dissuade her. She seemed content to just stare at creation. His view of the gray road wasn’t quite as engrossing.
Besides, he didn’t often have a chance to talk with her without being interrupted by needy puppies or hungry goats. This was his chance to get to know her. After all, he’d sure spilled more than he’d meant to two nights before when they’d stayed up with Bella.
“The content stuff you do?” he tried again.
“I’m a content creator,” she said without facing him.
“Right. And what is that again?”
With a reluctant sigh, she turned away from the window. “You know what I do.”
He shook his head, treading lightly. He did not need a repeat of his first inquisition about her work. “Honestly, I don’t have a clue. I know you travel a lot. I know you need some electronics—phones and computers. But I’m still a little confused about ... well”—he held his breath—“what you do.”
He hoped for a smile but waited for a scowl. Instead, she let out a sweet and full laugh.
“Only you, Finn Chaffey, would have no idea what a content creator does. You and your phone circa 1999.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. It gets the job done. And at least I’m not like those people who go out to a restaurant and never talk to anyone else because their face is in their phone the whole time.”
“Those are my people.”
“No, they’re not.”
Her shoulders jerked, and she sat up straighter, turning on the fabric seat to face him. “How do you know?”
“Because those people can’t go for a thirty-minute meal without staring at whatever is on their screens.” He took his eyes off the road to watch her reaction. “And you went more than a week without a phone and didn’t even get twitchy.”
“How do you know? Maybe I just hid my twitch well.”
He gave her another once-over as she tucked a lock of her jet-black hair behind her ear. The sun through the window made it shimmer and set her whole face aglow. The dark pools of her eyes held a challenge that matched the smirk of her lips.
“You can’t hide that kind of thing from Joe. He may be too spastic to be a working therapy dog, and sometimes he stresses out under high-pressure situations, but he knows you. And he likes you. And he isn’t agitated by you. Even I can get him worked up when I’m upset.”
“That’s why he likes Jack so much, isn’t it?”
He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he thought about her comment. “What do you mean?”
“No stress. No agitation. No fear. Just play. Joe senses that in him.”
Well, sweet cinnamon rolls. He’d never put that into words before. But it made perfect sense. Joe loved the boy and never missed a chance to play with him.
Finn was still rolling the thought over in his mind when Cretia whispered, “Maybe I’m not like them, but they are my people.”
Yanking his thoughts back to the present and his question for her, he waited.
“I don’t get to do what I do without them.”
“Which is...”
“I create videos about traveling. The beauty. The excitement. The best-kept secrets of popular destinations. Money-saving tips and ways to create the perfect itinerary.” There was a smile in her soft sigh. “I try to find the things that would make someone want to visit. The best food. The funnest adventures.”
“Adventures?”
“Zip-lining in Costa Rica. Cliff diving in Portugal.”
“Running with the bulls in Pamplona?”
She slapped a hand to his arm. “No. Never. Not once. I don’t care what Roberta says, that’s just stupid.” She laughed. “And hard to record yourself without losing life or limb.”
His chuckle echoed hers.
“The people who watch my videos, the ones who follow me—they make it possible.”
“How does that work? Who pays you?”
She pursed her lips to the side and stared out the window for a long second. “It’s a little here and a little bit there. It’s kind of confusing.”
“I’m a pretty smart guy.”
“With absolutely zero interest in the workings of social media.”
He shrugged. “All right. That’s a fair point. I’ve never had an interest before. But I’m interested in you.”
Her gaze darted back to him, a questioning eyebrow arching high on her forehead as a smug smile fell across her lips.
Flames licked at his throat, and he tugged at the collar of his Henley, wishing he could undo a button without her noticing. “I mean, I’m interested in learning how you do what you do.”
“Ri-ight,” she singsonged. “Okay. Fine.” She seemed to inspect the ceiling of the truck, her eyes darting back and forth. With a deep breath, she waved one finger. “Almost no one makes a living online with one revenue stream. So, while my one job is making videos, where and how I post them can bring in various opportunities for income.”
He must have looked confused, because she sighed. “The videos I post on YouTube are monetized through ads. YouTube pays me to be able to run ads on my content. And the more my videos are watched, the more I make.”
“How much are your videos watched?”
“On YouTube? My best video has been watched 4.7 million times.”
“Four million people watched you?” He couldn’t hide the disbelief hitching a ride in his tone.
“Not necessarily. It’s not how many people. It’s how many times they watched.”
“All right.” That made sense. Advertising he understood. He’d sponsored an island youth baseball team to get an ad in their program a couple years before. Basically the same thing, with a little smaller audience. “What are the other streams?”
She ticked off a second finger. “Subscribers. Several thousand people pay five dollars a month to get exclusive content from me.”
“Exclusive, like...”
“Like pro packing tips to fit everything you need for a weeklong trip in a carry-on. Like suggested itineraries in various cities—for families, romantic vacations, bachelorette parties, and guys’ getaways.”
“I never thought about that before, but I guess a family trip would look different than a honeymoon trip.”
“For sure. Like, so many people think that Nashville is only for bachelorette parties and honky-tonks. And, yes, there are a lot of those. But there’s also a ton of history in the area to explore and museums and, of course, live music. There are romantic nooks on rooftop bars and speakeasies that take you back a century. Once a month I do an ‘Ask Me Anything’ video where I answer my subscribers’ specific travel-related questions.”
“But not personal questions about you?”
She giggled with a shake of her head. “There’s not much to tell about my personal life. I post most of my life on-screen, and I don’t have time for much behind-the-scenes stuff.”
“Like a romantic situation?” He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. More inside processing that had no business being released.
Still, he held his breath. In the almost two weeks he’d known her, she hadn’t said anything about having a significant other. But that didn’t mean she was single. No matter how much he wanted that to be true.
Pursing her lips to the side, she rolled her eyes at him as though debating if he deserved an answer to his question. Finally, she shook her head. “The only romantic situation in my life is helping to plan romantic vacations.”
Her words were a bit of a kick to the gut. Only he couldn’t tell if it was because she’d confirmed she was single or because she didn’t consider their situation a romantic one. Not that she should. Nothing had happened. Yet.
“Last year a couple asked me to help them plan an anniversary trip to Middle Tennessee on a budget. So I created a custom itinerary just for them. Cozy hideaways and candlelit restaurants. They sent me a picture of them holding hands on the pedestrian bridge over the Cumberland River, and it was the absolute sweetest.”
As she spoke, her eyes lit up and her voice danced, and Finn had the worst urge to take her on one of those custom romantic trips. To make very good use of every dark corner and moonlit stroll so there was no doubt that there was more than friendship between them.
Gripping the steering wheel a little harder, he cleared his throat. “So, advertising and subscribers and what else?”
Cretia blinked, probably at his sudden change of topic, but continued on. “Sponsorships. Companies pay me to spread the word about their products on my platforms.”
“Okay, so like infomercials?”
“Oh my gosh. How old are you?” She rolled her eyes again and shoved his shoulder as they turned out of the national park onto a two-lane road and toward the center of the island. “Is that what you were watching instead of Handy Manny ?”
“Maybe. My gran liked them.”
“Okay, well, trust me—sponsorships are not your grandmother’s infomercial. If a company wants to sponsor me, I legitimately use their product on a trip. I don’t ham it up on-screen or go crazy. I just use it—maybe a bit more obviously than I normally would—and mention how it made my trip easier or better.”
“What sorts of products?”
“Anything travel related. I’ve done hotel chains and neck pillows and even a village in Spain. Most often I’m asked to do luggage—in fact, the suitcase that I lost was from a sponsor.”
He cringed, but she smiled.
“It was a good suitcase, and I emailed the company last week to see if they’d replace it. It’s already at the inn.”
“Wow. You have a magic wand too?”
“It’s good for them to have their brand rolling through airports and along cobblestone roads in my videos. Even if I don’t mention it by name in every post.”
“Have you ever turned down a sponsor?”
She snorted. “What kind of person do you think I am? Of course!”
“Sorry, I didn’t—”
“The internet is a wild place, and people come up with really weird things.” Her cheeks turned pink, and he was a little bit afraid to ask her to unpack that. In the end, she said just enough. “I’ve been asked to promote some things that I don’t feel comfortable with. Things that might alter someone’s state of consciousness or that I’m not sure are safe.”
Chewing on her thumbnail for a long second, she sighed. “I know it seems like what I do is frivolous. It’s not like I’m training dogs for rescue or therapy, but I do take it seriously.”
“It seems like a lot of people trust you.”
“Something like three million of them.”
He whistled low. That was somehow incredible and also completely understandable. If he was on any of those apps that Justin said his sister was on, he would certainly follow her. And not just because of her gorgeous smile or infectious laugh, but because he already knew the answer to his next question. “And you don’t take that lightly, do you?”
“How could I?” Her words took on an earnestness she didn’t often use. “They saved me.”