Page 9 of Winter Beginnings
I laughed softly, realizing I had none. “Just something healthy. Maybe some toys so he doesn’t chew everything in sight.”
“Got it.” He lifted his gloves again. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Before he reached the door, I stepped forward. “Wait. I’ll, uh…order us a pizza for dinner—my treat—if you don’t mind sticking around after? You’ve done so much already, hauling supplies, volunteering to help with the dog.”
A spark of amusement danced in his eyes. “Food sounds good. Count me in.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and the cold air whooshed away, leaving me alone with the little animal. Bramble let out a faint whine, tail wagging but still weak. “Let’s get you cleaned up before Cass returns,” I murmured. I scoopedhim into my arms, heading upstairs to the claw-foot tub I’d admired when I first arrived.
Though it was old, the tub was still charming: ornate feet, slightly chipped porcelain, but deep enough to accommodate a decent soak. I turned the faucet, letting the water run warm. Meanwhile, Bramble eyed me warily from the bathmat. “Don’t worry,” I teased him, testing the temperature with my wrist. “You survived the outdoors at this time of year; a bath’ll be easy.”
Carefully, I eased him into the water, using mild soap to wash away lingering dirt. He squirmed once or twice but soon relaxed, eyes half-closing as if relishing the unexpected warmth. Matting and bits of debris swirled away, revealing a plush black coat beneath. “Not so bad, huh?” I murmured, rinsing him off. He sneezed when a droplet hit his nose, making me giggle. “All right, all done.”
Wrapping him in a clean towel I’d brought from a linen closet, I carried him back downstairs. By then, my phone buzzed with a text from Cass: “On my way back with dog stuff. You get the pizza?” Smiling, I quickly dialed the local pizza place Bailey had raved about, placing an order for a large pepperoni with double cheese, Caesar salad, and breadsticks. With that, I sat Bramble by the warmest radiator, where he curled up contentedly.
It didn’t take long for Cass to reappear, arms loaded with a dog bed, a bag of kibble, a few cans of wet food, a new collar, a leash, and even a small squeaky toy shaped like a bone. My eyebrows rose. “That’s… a lot,” I said, half-amused, half-grateful.
He shrugged, depositing everything on the kitchen floor. “Figured I’d go overboard. Didn’t know exactly what he’d need or would like.”
Bramble’s ears perked at the rustling bags, and he wiggled out of my grasp to investigate. Cass knelt, opening the kibble bag, letting the pup sniff. Then he set up the bed near the radiator, patting it as a welcoming gesture. Bramble hopped right in, tail wagging. A warm, fuzzy sensation threaded through my chest at the sight.
“He looks happy,” I said, glancing at Cass. “Thanks again.”
“No problem.” He peeled off his coat, hanging it on a hook by the door. “How’s his bath go?”
I laughed. “He tolerated it. I think he’s just exhausted now.” As if to confirm, Bramble settled into the bed, snout buried in the plush fabric.
We both hovered a moment, watching the newly comfortable dog drift off into a light doze. “Pizza should be here any minute,” I said.
With Bramble snoozing, Cass and I took the chance to circle back to renovation talk. He asked about the oak armoire I’d found upstairs, and I told him how its hidden side compartment. We debated which pieces I might donate and which to keep. The conversation flowed easily, and I realized that I felt happier than I had since I could remember.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of our pizza. I hurried to pay while Cass dished kibble into a bowl for Bramble. The creature blinked awake, sniffing the air. Cass coaxed him to sample the new food, and after a brief hesitation, Bramble devoured it with gusto.
We settled at the table, opening the box to release a mouthwatering swirl of cheese and sauce. Cass let out a content sigh, biting into a slice. “Man, I forgot how much I love pizza after running errands all day.”
“Me too,” I said, nibbling on a slice of pepperoni, grateful for the simple comfort. “I guess I owe you big for taking care of Bramble’s shopping spree.”
He waved it off. “No big deal. You’re the one giving him a home. Says a lot about you for doing that.”
We ate, occasionally tossing a piece of crust to the pup—though he quickly returned to his bowl of dog food. The hush between us felt warm, tinted with the day’s events. Every now and then, our eyes met, and I sensed that same undercurrent humming in the silence. Something about building a new life in a derelict mansion—and now, caring for a stray—bonded us more than I’d expected.
After dinner, we cleaned up, tossing the empty pizza box in a corner to discard later. Bramble finished lapping up water, let out a squeaky yawn, and flopped onto his new bed with a satisfied thump. I smiled down at him. “Well, that’s one occupant sorted.”
Cass grabbed his phone, checking the time. “It’s getting late.” He raked a hand through his hair, leaning against the table. “So tomorrow, we start hauling out anything you won’t keep? Old, broken dressers, weird wardrobes?”
I nodded eagerly. “Yes. Then maybe peel that wallpaper in the hall. I can’t look at the peeling floral pattern another day.”
He grinned. “Deal. And we can also do a quick salvage yard run if we have time for tile samples. Gotta keep momentum.”
Bramble let out a snuffling snore, and we both stifled soft laughs. “He’s out like a light,” Cass observed, voice hushed.
I glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to see that it was after ten. “Yeah, guess we should call it a night.”
He stepped closer, his expression shifting from playful to something more intense. My breath caught as we stood in thelow glow of the old kitchen lamp, the air between us pulsing with a hint of unspoken desire. His gaze flicked to my mouth, and I felt my chest tighten, a swirl of adrenaline and curiosity flaring.
Slowly, Cass leaned in, his hand hovering near my arm as if waiting for my permission. A tantalizing wave of warmth teased my skin, the faintest brush of his breath near my cheek. For a heartbeat, I wanted to let it happen—to close the gap, claim a sliver of unexpected closeness in this huge house. But fear and caution rose, reminding me how raw I still was from Julian’s betrayal.
I turned my face aside, heart hammering. “I…Sorry,” I whispered, swallowing hard. “I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”