Page 23 of Sweet Beginnings (Honeysuckle, Texas #1)

She should have listened. Even though her instincts had told her that Samson would calm down with her, Preston was right, she should have let him have her back. Maybe then they wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a fast-growing brush fire with a traumatized dog.

“Smoke’s getting thick.” Preston stared into the distance. “I’m going to circle around and toss the blanket on Samson. Then I’ll scoop him up and we’ll both head for the Jeep. Agreed?”

As much as she hated it, she shook her head and pointed to the vehicle now parked on the other side of the blazing fire.

Eyes blinked shut, Preston blew out a sigh. The blanket balled under one arm, his other fist clenched at his side.

Samson whimpered, easing closer.

“He seems calmer.” Though she had absolutely no idea why an animal that moments ago was frenzied with stress now seemed to be focused and absurdly calm.

Black smoke was growing thick and strong.

“This smoke can overtake us in a heartbeat. We need to get down.” Tugging her to the ground, the way Preston’s gaze darted about, she knew he was doing the same thing she was—debating how the heck they were going to get out of here.

Another bolt of lightening flashed in the sky accompanied by the crash of thunder, but unlike before, Samson remained settled, calm, his nose twitching from the scents around him.

Suddenly, the animal tipped his head back, howled, and ran circles around the two of them.

Could it be possible the fire had driven the dog completely over the edge and off his rocker?

“What do you have in your pockets?” Crouching on his knees, he pulled out one of the bottles of water his mother had given them.

“Treats, water, and a pocket knife.”

“Pocket knife?”

She shrugged. “You never know when it might come in handy.”

“Right now I’d kill for a shovel.”

“Shovel?”

He tipped his chin behind them. “Winds moving the fire towards us.”

“Yeah.” She’d noticed too. All the firefighting training in the world wouldn’t do Preston any good without the right tools. Trying her best not to panic, she couldn’t help but think if ever panic was in order, this situation would be it.

Somehow, Preston had to get Sarah out of this.

Digging a hole by hand wasn’t going to work.

If they had a shovel, there was a small chance that if they sank into the ground and covered themselves with a water-soaked blanket, the fire might blow over them.

And right about now, a small chance was better than no chance. But the problem remained: no shovel.

Samson howled again, did another circle dance and this time darted forward before coming back and howling again.

“He’s getting worked up again,” Sarah almost whispered.

No one could blame the animal.

“Preston.” Sarah nibbled on her lower lip.

“Got a good idea?”

Shaking her head, she leaned in. “I just want to say something, in case, you know, if we don’t get out.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.” He was thinking it enough for the both of them.

She blew out a deep sigh. “I love you.”

If it were possible for time to stop, it just had, along with his heart.

“I know that wasn’t the plan, but I don’t want to die without you knowing.”

Gently, he took her hand in his and pulled her closer. “First, we’re not going to die,” even if he had to carry them through the fire to fulfill that promise, “and second, I love you more.”

A slight grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I love you most.”

Before he could come up with an appropriate comeback, Samson lunged at them, grabbing hold of Preston’s pants leg and tugging him away. “Don’t tell me he’s jealous.” That’s all he needed, for the frantic dog to get over his PTSD and then come between him and Sarah.

This had to be something more. Samson’s frantic energy was palpable, his brown eyes wide and locked on Preston’s, as if willing him to understand. The dog released his grip and barked sharply, then darted a few feet away, pausing to look back, his tail wagging in rapid, desperate sweeps.

Sarah grabbed hold of Preston’s arm. “He wants us to follow him.”

Could it be? “I think you’re right.”

Samson barked again, circling in agitation before sprinting to a thicket of trees. He barked twice more and jumped up, his paws scrabbling at the bark of one particularly sturdy-looking oak.

Smoke billowed in a choking cloud. Crouching low to the ground, he moved forward, following the dog, pulling Sarah with him.

“Preston…” with the heat licking at their backs, Sarah’s voice trembled, her grip tightening on his arm. “Do you think he—”

“I don’t know, but we’re out of options.”

Scrambling toward the determined dog, they were almost close enough to touch him when Samson suddenly bolted past the tree and into a narrow, barely discernible opening between the thick underbrush.

Preston squinted, trying to make out where the dog was leading them.

Obscured by dense foliage, the opening had yet to be engulfed by the fire.

“If this dog has found a way out, he’s getting the biggest bone the butcher has for dinner.” Preston tugged on Sarah’s hand, hurrying them along.

“And breakfast too,” her voice stronger, sounded more hopeful.

Disappearing into the brush, Samson’s barks echoed back to them. Still crouching low to avoid overhanging branches, they scurried after him. Air was heavy with smoke, mingled with oppressive heat, making it hard to breathe. Ahead the narrow passage seemed to curve away from the flames.

“I knew he was a special dog. He’s leading us away from the fire,” Sarah gasped, glancing over her shoulder. “How does he know?”

Preston shook his head. “Honestly, I haven’t a clue how he knows, I’m just glad he does. We’ve got to keep moving.”

Following the distant sound of Samson’s barks, they pressed on. The smell of smoke stronger than before, Preston said a silent prayer that they weren’t following the dog to their deaths.

Holding her shirt up over her nose and mouth, Sarah stumbled on a root, her hands flailing, Preston caught her, the force of her weight propelling them to the ground.

Overhead he could see sparks spinning through space, tossed about by the gusts of wind.

They needed to push ahead, faster, before the sparks rained down around them and set this corner of their world into another fiery blaze.

Scratched and scraped from crawling through the dry thicket, Samson’s howl drew them forward until they burst into a small clearing. The ground marshy and thick with mud, Samson stood barking at the edge of a narrow creek.

The fire still raging behind them, Preston almost laughed at the sight of Samson prancing in the cool water. “Smart dog.”

Samson barked again, whether in agreement or still directing them, Preston didn’t know or care. They’d followed the dog this far, no sense in stopping now. Splashing through the shallow water, the coolness covered them in blessed relief against the scorching heat.

“Good boy, Samson,” Sarah encouraged the dog.

Above, the whirling sound of aircraft engines roared, followed by waves of water showering the distant flames.

“Thank God,” Sarah whispered.

The trio followed the creek past the burning brush and around the curving bends until they could see the rescue ranch in the distance. Out of the water, Samson trotted ahead, his tail wagging triumphantly.

Adrenaline waning, exhaustion reared its head, dropping Preston to his knees. Beside him, Sarah sank to the ground.

Samson stood for a long moment staring back at them as if asking, you’re stopping now? before turning and galloping back to where they sat, exhausted. When the happy dog came up beside Sarah and licked her face enthusiastically, she threw her arms around him. “Foster my foot. You’re ours.”

“Amen.” Preston stretched his hand to scratch behind the dog’s ears.

He didn’t want to think what would have happened if the dog had not managed to clamp down his anxiety and slip into working dog mode.

Though Preston doubted escaping blazing fires had ever been in the job description, at this moment, he’d believe anything, including super dog and guardian angel.

Alice Sweet hovered over her son like a new mother watching her infant sleeping.

Sarah’s father wasn’t much better. Together in the Sweet family living room, sitting side by side on the sofa, Preston and Sarah had little say in the matter as both parents insisted they stay wrapped in quilts, drink lots of hot chocolate, and if they brought out one more thing for them to eat, Sarah was going back to face the fire again—an easier adversary than their two parents.

When they finally found themselves blessedly alone, as if choreographed, they both threw off the blankets and Sarah leaned into Preston’s side as his arm draped around her, tugging her more closely against him.

Warm lips pressed against her temple. “I love you, Mrs. Sweet.”

The words were music to her soul. Lifting her gaze to meet his, she took in the love shining in his eyes. He meant it. “I was afraid it was the adrenaline talking.”

His head shook from side to side as his lips came down on hers. The gentle warmth spread from her mouth to her toes as he pulled her impossibly closer. They’d shared plenty of kisses for show, but this was most definitely so very different. Her toes were almost curling in her shoes.

“Oops.” His mom stopped short, her shoes clacking a fast exit back to the kitchen.

Chuckling, they pulled apart.

“We really do need to find our own place.” Preston ran his thumb down her cheek.

Sucking in a long, deep breath, Sarah blew it out slowly. “As Mr. and Mrs.?”

“If you meant what you said?”

Her head bobbed. “I did.”

“For better or worse, till death do us part.” No sooner had the words left his lips then his face pinched. “Sorry, poor choice of words.”

“Perfect words. From this day forward, you’re stuck with me.”

“Sounds like heaven.” He leaned in for another kiss when a nearby deep voice cleared his throat.

“Maybe you two should take this upstairs?” Carson bit back a smile and winked.

Preston locked gazes with her and any other day she would have raced him up the stairs, but tonight, there was someplace else she wanted to be. As if reading her mind, Preston nodded.

They had one meaty bone to deliver to their favored guest set up in the barn’s best accommodation.

In perfect unison, their two voices chorused, “Samson.”