A Fairy-Tail Ending
Author
Catherine Mann
Reads
17.8K
Chapters
19
All she needed was a miracle All he needed was her! Sure, Isobel Dalton is entranced by the handsome man dressed as a pirate for her daughter's sixth birthday. But firefighter Cash Warner is a man with his own physical and emotional scars — hardly an angel in disguise. When an unexpected inheritance much needed for her child's kidney transplant comes in the form of a family mystery at the Top Dog Dude Ranch, Cash insists on tagging along…evoking desire and tearing down Isobel's emotional walls in the process. Could the hardened, wounded, irresistible man be the miracle she's prayed for all along?
Prologue
Cocoa the Caring Canine
Did you know that dogs can sense magic? Well, it’s true.
Enchantment releases a distinctive sugary smell in the air that only our canine olfactory nerves can detect. That aroma is even more enticing than the barbecue in progress next door.
If I’m having an off day with my Labrador nose, luckily real-life fairy tales also release a hum into the air. And I’m guessing you know all about our enhanced hearing since we can detect that doorbell ring even in a deep slumber...
On the second floor...
Burrowed underneath three layers of covers.
Compared to alerting about a ringing doorbell or smoking grill, sensing the musicality and perfume of magic is easy-peasy.
For those of you who are tuning in to my blog for the first time, my name is Cocoa, and I’m all about watching for magic everywhere I go. Somebody has to make sure that not even one note or a single whiff slips by unnoticed.
Unutilized.
Making the most of every magical opportunity is especially important to me because I’m a service dog. A chocolate Labrador retriever, mobility assistance dog to be exact. My whole life is dedicated to the job. Now, don’t worry for even a minute about my day being devoted to tasks, because I love to work. I mean really, really love it.
The best day of my entire existence came when the facility where I trained for two years—yes, two whole years—matched me with a forever person to help. Lottie. She’s only six, and she uses a wheelchair because she was born with something humans call spina bifida. I can’t explain it like a doctor. I just know there’s a place in her spine that didn’t close up right when she was inside her mom.
So I help Lottie. I go to school with her and pick things up, like her pencils, when she drops them. I push elevator buttons with my paws—I like putting extra oomph into that cue. I lay over her lap and press if she’s having nerve pain—or if she’s sad. Don’t we all need a hug every now and then? I can even pull the covers up for her with my mouth.
How cool is that?
When Lottie’s asleep, sometimes I help her mama—Isobel—when she is sad. Usually when she curls up in her reading chair, those tears start leaking. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s tired or worried about Lottie or sad that Lottie’s dad doesn’t live with them. The reason doesn’t matter to me. I’m all about the solution that I offer best. More of those special hugs that are designed to press just right.
But lately, I’m worried I may not have enough cues up my sleeve to give this family. The last time I went with Lottie to the doctor, things got a lot more complicated. She needs all the magic I can sniff out. The doctor says she needs a new kidney.
My sniffer also tells me she needs it sooner than they think.
