Chapter 13 Misted Pines Art Center Opening #2
She’d given up on the skipping and was now doing weird little kid lunges to propel herself forward, still with her hand clenched to Hannibal’s leash.
“Mr. Hutch is the president of the board at an animal rescue and wildlife sanctuary,” I told Emma.
Abigail and Brett were herding Liam on the other side of Emma and Hannibal.
I was on the opposite side of Hutch. So I caught Abigail leaning forward and nonverbally communicating the threat to strap me into the iron maiden until she got the skinny on how I knew Hutch’s dog was named after a Carthaginian general and he was president of the board of a rescue and sanctuary.
“Sang-you-wary?” Emma asked.
“It’s where they keep dogs and cats safe until their forever families can come and pick them up,” I explained. “It’s also where they take care of hurt wildlife, like owls and eagles and moose and wolverines.”
Emma froze mid-lunge, looked up to Hutch and shouted, “I wanna see a moose!”
“That can be arranged,” Hutch told her.
Getting her way got her moving again.
“You save animals?” Liam asked quietly.
“Do my best, bud. Though, for the hurt ones, we got people with special training who take care of bones and wings and hooves and all that stuff,” Hutch answered.
“Whoa,” Liam whispered as hero worship went into overdrive.
“Don’t look at me. Nothing to see here. I just released a swimmer who made it all the way,” Brett muttered good-naturedly.
Abigail poked him in the ribs with her elbow.
Hutch looked to Abigail and Brett. “We do tours. It’s safe. All the animals are in pens. It’s up at Stony Bluff.”
“Think I heard of that,” Brett said.
“Can we go, Dad?” Liam asked.
Brett smiled at his son. “Sure, kid.”
His mom’s grin split Liam’s face ear to ear.
“Bazgetball!” Emma hollered, let the leash go, and zigged and zagged through people to get to the basketball hoop, run by, you guessed it, the MPHS basketball team.
The rest of us made it to her just in time for her to do her toe jumping thing again and beg, “Can I shoot, Daddy? Please, please, please?” She turned and pointed at a huge pink teddy bear that was likely two inches taller than her. “I want that!”
“You can, hon, but you gotta make twenty shots consecutively to win it,” Brett warned.
“I can do that,” Emma asserted, even if it was highly doubtful she knew the word consecutively or could throw a basketball more than four feet.
“I’m not sure even Kevin Durant can do that,” Abigail muttered.
“Will you hold this?” Hutch asked Liam solemnly, offering Hannibal’s lead to the boy.
His shades flicked up to Abigail, something passed between them, and she nodded.
But I knew, if Hutch told Hannibal to stay, he wouldn’t move, but Liam would think he was in control of a massive, glossy black, muscle-packed dog.
I mean, who was this guy?
“Okay,” Liam replied reverently and took the leash.
“Hannibal, stay,” Hutch ordered.
The dog licked his chops and settled next to Liam on his behind.
Hutch moved away and gave the tall, gangly high school kid five dollars for three goes.
I checked the rule sign, and it said, if you got all three, you won a prize and got to keep going, the prizes getting nicer the more baskets you made. But if you missed, you had to start again.
Hutch took the ball and set up at a line that was probably several inches farther than a free-throw line.
While he was doing this, Abigail sidled up beside me. I knew she was going to say something, but then Hutch sprang up, his arms in the air, his wrists flicking, the hem of both tees riding up to show his six pack, and she didn’t speak.
My own mouth went a little dry (okay, a lot dry).
But the ball went whoosh!
“Yay, Missa Hutch!” Emma cried.
The kid brought the ball back.
Hutch barely set up before he let go and…
Whoosh!
This time, the kid eyed him like he wasn’t bored out of his skull and would prefer to be hanging with his buds or holding hands walking the tent aisles with his main squeeze.
And…
Whoosh!
“You win a prize,” the kid said, handing him the ball.
Hutch took it and…
Whoosh!
The kid jerked around to stare at the net as that happened.
He went after the ball and brought it to Hutch.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
A crowd was forming.
Emma had declared herself Hutch’s one-girl cheerleading squad and was shouting her encouragement while she did random straight arm moves and kicked out her hips.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
The kid brought back the ball, his eyes wide, his Adam’s apple bobbing and…
Whoosh!
“That’s fifteen,” the kid said, handing him the ball. “You get to pick from that shelf—”
Whoosh!
I jumped and clapped.
“Oh my God, Hutch! You go!” I yelled.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
We had a huge crowd and now everyone was shouting encouragement.
Whoosh!
At this point, the kid was as excited as everyone else.
“One more, man, you got this!” he yelled, bending his knees and leaning over, shifting his weight from foot to foot and clapping his hands like Hutch was going to pass him the ball.
But I was freaking.
He was this close to winning.
What if he—?
Whoosh!
A wave of sound struck us as the crowd went wild, and being part of that crowd, Tonks danced and howled.
I was so into it, dragging my dog with me, I threw myself at him.
He caught me at the waist with one arm and pulled me up his body.
“Oh my God, honey!” I yelled in his face. “That was so rad!”
He gave me a squeeze, the most miniscule lip twitch in history that was almost, but not quite, indicative of a smile, and sliding me slowly down his lean, hard frame, he dropped me to my feet.
It was only then I realized what had just happened.
And part of that was he not only didn’t push me away, he didn’t make it awkward.
He was right there with me.
“And we have a winner!” the kid yelled like a circus barker, bringing over the pink bear and handing it to Hutch with his own version of hero worship on his face.
Hutch instantly turned and handed it to Emma.
She struggled with it, listing and almost going down, but by damn, she kept hold of the bear and her feet, even as she shouted from behind yards of fake pink fur, “Thank you, Missa Hutch!”
“You get a personal tour of the sanctuary with me, if your parents are okay with that,” he said to Liam.
Clearly, this was no consolation prize.
Liam’s head whipped round to his dad. “Can I, Dad?”
“Of course,” Brett said, grinning.
“I wanna see a moose!” Emma cried.
“Mr. Hutch got you the bear,” Liam pointed out.
She bit her lip in indecision, then hugged her bear tight.
“Good choice,” I told her, even though I knew, when this tour happened, Abigail and Brett would bring her too.
“How about I go put that in the car?” Brett said, prying the mammoth blob of pink fuzz from his daughter. Before he took off, he looked at Hutch. “Thanks, man. That was spectacular.”
Hutch shrugged.
Brett handed Hutch his caramel apple and took off.
Hutch took the leash from Liam with a “Thanks, bud.”
“Anytime,” Liam chirped.
Hutch turned to me. “I gotta get back to the tent. See you Monday.”
I nodded. “Okay. Later, Hutch. And again, that was awesome.”
Another chin jut before he offered a high five to Liam, who enthusiastically gave it to him, then one to Emma, who missed his hand completely and melted into more giggles. He dipped his chin to Abigail, and he and Hannibal strolled away.
As Emma and Liam (and I) stared longingly at his tall, departing body, Abigail again sidled up to me.
“Don’t start,” I said out of the corner of my mouth before she could begin. Then I offered, “He’s Tonks’s trainer.”
“I have never once questioned my decision to marry my beloved husband, but still, in another universe, I wish that man would train me,” she replied.
She had no idea.
“So…” she drawled. “We don’t have a dog. I’m unaware. Is it etiquette to throw yourself at your dog trainer after he performs a miraculous feat for a three-year-old?”
I turned to her and deadpanned, “Yes. A miraculous feat is a miraculous feat.”
She gave me a knowing look and bumped me with her hip.
“Full story later,” she declared, then, before I could demur, she called, “Right, kids, who wants to take a go at a pottery wheel?”
Emma raised her hand, bopped repeatedly, and even though it was likely she had no clue what a pottery wheel was, she yelled, “Me! Me! Me! Me!”
“The good thing about all of this, tonight, they’re gonna crash so hard, Brett and I can play high school basketball stud and his cheerleader,” she said under her breath to me.
I snorted.
“Can I hold Tonks’s lead?” Liam asked me.
“She’s my new baby, and I’m happy for you to do that, but only if you let me help,” I replied.
“I can let you help,” he said.
We shared Tonks’s lead.
And I did everything I could not to search out the Stony Bluff Animal Rescue tent so I could catch a look at Hutch again.
I did not best that feat and saw him talking to yet another criminally handsome Misted Pines mountain man. This one had a baby on his hip, a mini-me little boy at his side who looked to be about ten or so, and a gorgeous blonde tucked to his other side with his arm slung around her neck.
They seemed really friendly.
I couldn’t imagine grumpy Hutch with friends.
Then again, I couldn’t imagine him whooshing twenty basketballs for a little girl.
And he did.
He also sang beautiful, sad songs.
Honestly?
I didn’t know what to do with that guy.
Everything he said shouted, Back off!
But everything he did said something else entirely.
I wasn’t going to come up with any answers standing there stupidly staring at him across a big parking lot.
And anyway, he might catch me stupidly staring.
So instead, I got stuck in and then I got muddy.
Hours later, after Abigail and I got down to business and talked three artists (one who made the most beautiful glass nightlights, another who stitched gorgeous quilts, and the last who wove remarkable baskets) into stopping in the shop to consider our vendor contract, the Buckner family walked me to my truck.
Emma’s little girl butt was on her daddy’s arm, she was flat out against his chest, head on his shoulder, drooping.
Liam still had some steam, but he was powering down.
So I got a big hug from their mom, a one-armed one from their dad, and finally, a curious look from their mother after she glanced into the driver’s side window of my car.
“Fun day, guys, see you later,” I called as they moved away.
Emma waved at me from over her father’s shoulder.
“Bye, Miss Mabel,” Liam called.
Abigail gave me the thumb-and-pinkie-extended hand to her ear, call me gesture.
I turned to my car and froze as I looked through the window.
On my seat was a paper bag, I knew, filled with a big M&M caramel apple.
I checked my door. It was locked.
“How did he—?”
It didn’t matter.
I didn’t care.
I opened the door, shifted the bag out of the way, dropped my other bags with it on the passenger side floor, snapped my fingers at my dog who popped into the cab before me, and hauled myself in.
I did this smiling.