Page 87 of The Last Second Chance
Breathless, Joey settled for a wide-eyed nod as an acceptable response.
He reached down to adjust himself. “I need to buy roomier jeans if we’re gonna keep this up,” he muttered.
Joey bit her kiss-swollen lip and watched him toss a chip in Waffles’ bowl before striding out the front door.
“Get it together, Greer. You’re not eighteen anymore,” she mumbled to herself and set about unpacking the rest of the groceries.
As the snow fell faster outside her windows, Joey worked her way around the house, making sure she was domestically prepared for a good snow in. The generator was good to go, her propane tanks full, and the fridge was stocked. There was a snow shovel at the front and back doors and a pair of snowshoes on the back porch. Pet friendly salt for the steps and walkways was in a heavy bucket topped with a scoop.
She hustled upstairs and put fresh sheets on the bed and pulled some extra blankets out of the linen closet. She spread out an old picnic blanket, one she’d stolen from her parents years ago, over the bed in the guest room to minimize the dog hair her overnight guests were sure to leave behind.
With Jax taking care of the last check-in for the horses, Joey jumped in the shower before changing into plaid pajama pants and a tank top. She pulled her hair back into an unruly ponytail as she took the stairs back to the first floor.
The kitchen was the place outside the stables that she felt most at home. Recipes made sense to her. She put the right ingredients in the right amounts together, followed the directions, and she was rewarded with exactly what she set out to make. It was the predictability that she found appealing. The predictability and deliciousness.
She’d baked because her mother and grandmother had baked. Her father was always a willing guinea pig and sampled every recipe from her triumphant Boston cream cupcakes to her failed first attempt at flan. Jax and his teenage appetite had become her second biggest fan. She sometimes wondered if it wasn’t her baking that lured him to her in the first place. Maybe he couldn’t stand the thought of Bannon Bullock having her cookies to himself?
In college, baking had bled into cooking by necessity. Nowadays, in her well-stocked kitchen, Joey could whip up just about anything. Tonight it was her favorite chili, a hearty recipe she reserved for the dead of winter and snowstorms. She diced onions and peppers with the efficiency of a network food show star and while they sautéed, she unwrapped the cubed chuck and gathered her spices.
She took a minute to sync up a playlist from her laptop and shifted her cooking rhythm to match Chris Stapleton’s smoky vocals.
Waffles came to investigate when Joey put the chuck in the pan, his nose sniffing with heightened interest.
“Nice try, buddy. You can settle for some tasty chicken and rice stuff.”
Waffles looked disappointed. She was amazed at how quickly she’d gotten used to sharing her life with a dog. Granted, Waffles was probably an anomaly. Gia was full of stories of Diesel the puppy doing his best to destroy their house and Carter and Summer had their hands full with the medicated Meatball.
But Waffles was the dog that always came when called and sat by the back door when he had to go outside. He’d taken to life on the farm as if he’d been born there, befriending horses and barn cats and entertaining her riding students before class. And at night, he curled into a tight ball at her feet as if he was grateful for it all. But Joey was the grateful one. Whatever happened between her and Jax, Joey knew she’d always owe him for Waffles.
She helped herself to a bottle of porter from the fridge and opened it with the bottle opener mounted on the wall next to her back door. The beer was thick and flavorful. Perfect for drinking and seasoning. She poured a half-cup into the chili and stirred. The smells were making her mouth water and she realized she’d forgotten to grab lunch. Fueled by coffee and a need to set things in order before white, flakey chaos fell from the sky, she’d blown right past any thoughts of food.
With the chili nicely taking shape in the big pot on the range, Joey turned her attention to starting the cornbread in a cast iron skillet.
The flakes were falling fat and fast outside her cozy home. She kept an eye out the window as day turned to dusk and the snow continued to accumulate. She caught a glimpse of headlights coming up the drive and pushed the second garage door opener button signaling Jax to pull into the bay she’d emptied for him that afternoon. It would save them both time if they didn’t have to dig the Jeep out from under three feet of snow.
Waffles gave a welcoming woof when Jax bustled through the front door a minute later. Valentina and Meatball were attached to leashes looped over his wrist.
Valentina headed straight for the couch while Meatball tried to scramble up the stairs, resulting in a tangle of dogs, leashes, and man. Jax extricated himself and unsnapped the leashes.
“They’re not too wet. Just from the snow between here and the garage,” he said apologetically as damp footprints splattered over Joey’s clean floors.
“Don’t worry about it. The floors will be a mess tomorrow anyway. Consider this the pregame,” she said.
Meatball hurtled up the stairs with Waffles on his heels. Valentina couldn’t be bothered to be interested in her new surroundings. She ambled over to the fireplace and flopped down on a floor cushion.
“I’m gonna grab their stuff. Be back in a second.”
“Do you need help?” she offered.
“If I can get those beasts in here myself I think I can handle anything.”
Meatball howled on the second floor.
Joey narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to just get in the Jeep and drive back to an empty house leaving me with this motley crew, are you?”
“The thought had occurred to me, but I’d be awfully lonely in that bed by myself,” he winked.
When he returned he was loaded down with a duffle bag, two bags of dog food, and two dog beds.
