Rescue Me (16 page)

A little support from the rest of the family couldn't hurt.

He closed the iPad and looked at his soon-to-be stepdaughter. Hopefully. Might as well dive right into his campaign before Lacey came back into the room. “I want to marry your mother.”

Her eyes went wide for an instant before she nodded. “I figured as much.”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“Whatever makes my mom happy makes me happy.”

He'd been a police officer for long enough to recognize evasiveness when he heard it. “That's not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

“It is, actually.” She tugged at her blond ponytail absently. “In my family we trust one another's judgment. So if my mom says you're cool, then you're cool.” She pushed back to her feet again. “Sorry to be abrupt, but I'm going to get that trail mix.”

The cuckoo clock blared as she walked away, each squawk slicing through his aching head. He needed to ramp up his efforts and get her family on board. If not Sierra, then maybe Nathan.

Because biding his time wasn't working, and hell, he'd been waiting for over a year and a half. He'd almost lost her to that veterinarian friend of hers, but the idiot had left town in the interest of being honorable and giving her time to grieve.

Wyatt wasn't letting up for a second. The longer he waited the more he worried she would slip away altogether. So he would keep persisting.

She would be his, one way or another.

*   *   *

I THOUGHT I
was so smart because of all those game-show quizzes. I knew all the continents. The US states and their capitals. I considered myself well-rounded, with a solid foundation of knowledge on great artists and classical musicians. Science? No worries. My nose could sniff out elements in a heartbeat. Zero margin of error.

But until I stepped outside of that meth-lab cabin, I didn't realize how little I knew about, well, living. The prospect of walking up a flight of stairs made me pee on Mary Hannah's feet in fear. Getting into a car left me trembling so hard my teeth clicked—which scared people. It took me a long time to understand why dogs enjoyed sticking their head out the window. For the first week, I preferred to curl up on the floor in a very, very tight ball.

There were so many things to learn, it was overwhelming at times. AJ wanted me to walk with a rope attached to my collar. Mary Hannah called it a leash or a harness, but it reminded me of years living on a chain.

He put my food in a bowl rather than tossing it on the floor. I flipped my dish for a long time to spill out the food the old way. Sometimes I still do on a bad day—like during thunderstorms.

And everyone wanted me to learn their words. I understood what they wanted me to do, but getting my body to obey? There was a disconnect that took me a while to overcome.

Sit.

Stay.

Come.

Leave it.

Drop it.

Heel.

But it was worth it all because of the one most important word they wanted me to learn. My name. Finally, I had one name, beautiful, spoken softly rather than shouted. Mary Hannah said the name again and again, while feeding me treats until I really believed that was my forever name.

Living with AJ was good. He needed me. It was nice to be needed, to have a reason for waking up in the morning. Mary Hannah helped me see I could have a purpose and worth. I'll love her forever for that.

As I started to gain confidence and trust, I realized that even though I had a lot to learn, I knew things humans didn't. I knew about the babies growing inside their mothers. Seemed like everyone in this place was either having a baby or thinking about making a baby. Some were happy about babies and others not so much. I loved my puppies, but I also understood that life was complicated and that love came with the great cost of pain, of loss. I knew one of those babies was in trouble, and I hoped the mother could get help.

As I met new individuals, I understood there were differences in people. Before being rescued, I thought humans were bad.

Now I could sense there were good people
and
bad people. And the good people needed warning because they didn't always understand who the bad guys—or gals—were. I needed to help them recognize not everyone could be trusted.

Because once I stepped outside of my fear enough to observe the world around me, I realized I recognized people from my time at the cabin.

Sometimes even game shows can't distract from life's pain. Bad stuff happens. Puppies and babies get sick. Sometimes they die before they're even born.

—HOLLY

A
J HAD SPENT
the past couple of hours preparing himself for Mary Hannah's training visit. Given the timing, it only made sense that they would have supper together. They'd eaten sandwiches together in the past. But he was thinking tonight would be right to try more of a real meal together.

A date.

He had to find out if she saw him as a patient . . . or a man. Because he sure as hell didn't see her as a counselor in any capacity. In fact, the last thing he wanted was anyone jabbing around in his psyche.

And her past drug addiction? Everything pointed to a steady life, but then he'd been certain Sheila was telling him the truth about kicking the habit. He shook off the thought. Mary Hannah was not Sheila, damn it. He had to believe people could be rehabilitated or this job would truly send him over the edge.

He placed a folded quilt over the back of a chair near the fireplace, strategically ready for an “impromptu” picnic. He always had candles around in case of a power outage, and he lit two of them now, evergreen-scented ones he'd picked up off the holiday clearance rack. He'd also bought shredded barbecue and fresh rolls, some sides, casual, but leaving the door open to be a more intimate dinner if she wanted.

Because without question, he wanted to be with her, and he would deal with the rest later.

A knock sounded at the door. Holly didn't flinch at the noise anymore. She tipped her head to the side. Of course there were only two people who ever came to see him. Mary Hannah, who Holly adored and trusted. And Wyatt, who Holly still didn't know well, so she retreated to her dog bed and eyed him warily. Somehow she always knew which person was knocking before he opened.

Sitting prettily, Holly tipped her head to the side, nubby tail wagging against the braid rug.

“Behave for Mary Hannah, Holly. We want to get on her good side.”

His pulse hammering in his ears, he opened the door and even knowing who stood on the other side, she still took his breath away. She wore her red wool coat as usual, but her sleek black hair flowed loosely around her shoulders, her ears kept warm by a simple wool headband. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her dark brown eyes sparkling like early stars lighting a night sky.

He cleared his throat. “I'll get my coat and join you.”

“Let's work inside this time.” She stomped the snow off her boots before stepping over the threshold and sweeping the headband off her ears. “I was outside so long today with the Robertes, I'm still chattering.”

Right now more than anything, he wanted to warm her. “I'll take your coat. We can work by the fireplace. I'll toss on an extra log.”

“That sounds perfect.” She stepped out of her snow boots and passed over her coat, revealing jeans and a fitted icy-blue sweater. She wriggled her toes covered in fluffy yellow socks.

“What do you want to work on with Holly this evening?” He hung her coat in the entryway closet, his fingers digging into the fabric for an instant before he let go.

“Honestly, after her walk today working with the leash, plus socializing with the other animals going there and back, I believe she's maxed out on anything intense. I was thinking we could just sit with her tonight. I have some simple massage techniques you can use to relax her when you're petting her.”

Well now didn't that work well with his plan to sit on a quilt in front of the fireplace? “Sure, that sounds like a great idea. I'll spread a blanket on the floor.”

She set her paisley bag on the sofa. “I have massage oils as well.”

His pulse pounded harder, along with another part of him. “What kinds of oils?”

“Lavender and orange are both soothing, but orange is more for helping with hyperactivity.” She pulled out a matching paisley pouch with small bottles clanking inside. She set each one on the coffee table in a row. “Clary sage is good for calming and separation anxiety. Peppermint helps with arthritis or cooling the skin.”

“Open all of those and the cabin will smell like a flower shop.”

“We're only going to use lavender and sage, just a little while rubbing her ears.” She tugged out a small bag of her homemade dog treats.

He shook out the quilt in front of the fireplace, then added another log to the fire. He stoked the embers back to life, coals snapping and popping. “Where did you learn all of this?”

“Some from my counseling background and some from courses in dog training. I'm also a fan of yoga, and there's a yoga that's taught with dogs called doga.”

“Seriously? You aren't planning for us to do this yoga, um, doga?”

“No, I promise.” She laughed softly as she sat cross-legged on the quilt. “I'm not expecting you to do any downward-facing dog or cobras.”

He pulled a dog treat out of the Ziploc bag. “Holly? Come.”

Her nose twitched, and she padded slowly across the room, her long legs making her look a little like a small horse. He knelt, hand extended, waiting until she nibbled the treat from his hand.

He pulled out another. “Holly, sit.”

The boxer plunked on her bottom. “Good girl, Holly.” He fed her the cookie. “Good girl.”

Mary Hannah opened the bottle marked
SAGE
and reached for his hand. Her cool touch sent a bolt of desire clean through him. She dabbed two drops of oil on his palm, the clean, earthy scent filling the space between them.

She eased back and set the bottle on the table. “Now rub your hands together, then stroke her ears.”

He wasn't sold on the notion that putting perfume behind Holly's ears would turn her into a Barkley clone. But hell, he would play along. He also had other hopeful ideas for those oils later on.

For now, he followed her lead and let Holly smell his hand with the oils. She sniffed once, twice, then deeply, her eyelid going to half-mast.

“Well, what do ya know,” he whispered, then rubbed her ears, the fur as satiny smooth as the oils.

“Slowly,” Mary Hannah suggested. “Barely there. Touch in circles.”

Holly's eyes slid closed.

Mary Hannah took the lavender bottle and shook drops on her own hands. “You can watch what I do and try this later.”

She set her hands on Holly's shoulders, massaging lightly at first, as if letting Holly get used to her touch, then kneading a bit deeper. “What does AJ stand for?”

He stopped moving for an instant, surprised at the question. “I'm just AJ.”

A smile played with her lips. “You're being dense on purpose.”

Sure he was. He didn't want to talk about himself or his name or how it linked him to his family. He wanted to know more about her. Intimately. “I'm a Junior, thus the J. So it's not a double name like yours.”

“That's the J part.” She worked her slender fingers down Holly's spine. “What about the A?”

“You could ask Wyatt or check my wallet.” He winked. “It's in my pocket.”

She looked over the tops of her glasses with a naughty schoolmarm air. “That seems like an invasion of your privacy. I guess that means I'll have to wait until you're ready to tell me what the A stands for.”

He didn't much like his name or being an echo of his father. Definitely time to shift the conversation in another direction. “These oils actually seem to be helping her. I gotta confess when we started working with Holly I was skeptical. But you really do know what you're doing.”

“I hope so. Sometimes I have to fly by instincts, and that's scary with so much at stake. We're not just her second chance. We're her last chance.”

The intensity in her voice made him realize she identified with this dog in some way. Saving the dog had something to do with her past or making restitution? He wasn't clear exactly, but as a cop he knew motivations were every bit as important as the actions in moving forward.

He skimmed his knuckles across her cheek lightly. “It appears to me you're doing an incredible job at giving her a future.”

“Thank you.” She leaned into his touch for an instant before turning her attention back to Holly. “How is the case against those responsible for the meth house going? Or are you unable to discuss it?”

He could, to a degree, but honest to Pete, he felt shut out of the investigation. He wasn't sure if it was because of the “burnout” label or something else altogether. “So far everything Evelyn Lucas told us has checked out.”

She wiped the oils along Holly's chest, frowning. “I hear a hesitation in your voice.”

“One of the co-conspirators she named is dead. We found her overdosed in her apartment.” Could be coincidental, except he didn't believe in that sort of thing. He smoothed a hand over Holly's head as she stretched on the quilt with a contented sigh. “Another is refusing to talk even though he has all the earmarks of a low-level player who should be begging to make a deal rather than risk taking the rap for the whole operation.”

“What are you thinking?”

That he wished he had more information? “That there's someone else involved, someone scary enough to keep them quiet. Someone smart enough to lay low until the dust settles.”

“I wish Holly could just tell us everything about what happened in that cabin.” She continued to stroke the dog's back even though the boxer had settled into sleep with a soft snore.

“That would certainly make things easier for all of us.”

Mary Hannah angled back, leaning against the coffee table. “Looks like she's out for now.”

“Apparently aromatherapy works quite well on dogs.” Now he had to keep Mary Hannah from packing up her massage oils and heading out the door. “Hey, I have some great barbecue carryout in the fridge. There's enough for two. Why don't you stay for supper? Unless I've misread things and you're here in some kind of counselor capacity.”

Her eyes went wide. “Counselor? No. I am most definitely not your counselor. I'm here to help you rehab Holly and train her. Your boss thought this would be therapeutic for you, but that doesn't make me your therapist.”

Relief damn near knocked him on his ass. “Good to know. What about my other question? Will you stay for supper?”

Indecision shuffled in her eyes. She was such a logical person, but then there was the yoga/doga side. And the Francesca side. He hoped the sides of her that were in tune with feelings and emotions would win out over that logical part of her. In fact, he was surprised at how very important her answer was.

Her hands slid from Holly to her lap. “Sure, yes, I would enjoy having supper with you.”

*   *   *

AN HOUR LATER,
Mary Hannah finished off the last bite of barbecue and washed it down with a swallow of beer. She'd enjoyed the surprise on his face when she'd asked for one of the longnecks instead of sweet tea. She'd never considered herself a person who kicked back with a brewski but didn't recall when she'd come to that conclusion.

The time had come to elbow out of her comfort zone and test old assumptions.

She couldn't deny the attraction she felt for AJ grew stronger every day, in a different way from the obvious, out-of-control heat that had flared between them the first time they'd met. As she got to know him more, she liked the man below the moody layers. And seeing him be so tender with Holly melted her heart. She hadn't been able to resist staying for dinner even knowing she was playing with fire.

He'd set out the food on the coffee table, pushing aside her aromatherapy oils. They'd shared the meal casually, the blaze in the hearth warming her cold toes and tempting her senses with a light smoky smell mingling with the oils.

Somewhere about halfway through the meal, Holly had lumbered over to her dog bed, stumbling in a half-awake, lolling manner before falling asleep again. It was a perfect night, actually. Better than any she could remember in so very long.

AJ tipped his beer for a swallow, stretching his arm along the back of the sofa. “What made you decide to work with therapy dogs?”

“My friendship with Sierra. I started volunteering here, and on a whim I decided to turn that time into a research project for school.” She rolled the beer bottle between her palms. “I figured out quickly I'd found a calling. I pursued additional courses to become a certified dog trainer. It fit.”

“There's more to the story.”

Was he pushing for more details about her time as an addict? Was she ready to tell him? She chose to stall. “Maybe
you
should have been a counselor.”

“I'm a cop. That just makes me perceptive.”

He was right on a couple of levels, but she opted for the safer answer, the one that would leave her least exposed as she trod warily into this new level of intimacy with him. “Remember when I told you my sister has epilepsy? Medication helped, but didn't control the seizures one hundred percent of the time. We tried to make sure she was never alone. My dad even wrote up these exact schedules.”

“So that's where you got your organization from.”

From her father? God, she hoped not. He'd taken OCD to a controlling level. Even thinking of the comparison made her queasy. “Maybe. But the schedule didn't work because I didn't follow it.”

“Hey, you were a kid.”

“True. And so was Sarah Jane, who craved privacy, and who could blame her? She was hiding in her closet reading. She had a seizure and hit her head on the shelves full of folded sweaters and jeans.” The sounds echoed in her mind even now. The thuds against the wall between their bedrooms. Their mother's screams. Their father's anger.

Later, her own whimpers of guilt over letting her baby sister wander off because she'd gotten tired of always being responsible.

AJ rubbed the back of her neck, soothing her in much the same way he'd calmed Holly. “She clearly survived since she lives in California now.”