Rescue Me (9 page)

“Here, catch.” She tossed a couple of tennis balls to AJ.

“These treats look good enough for people.” He caught each of the tennis balls cleanly in midair.

“They are definitely for the dogs.” She saw a thermos and two cups on the picnic table. “I assume that's the drink you brought for us?”

“Hot cider instead of Diet Coke. Be warned, though, it is still spiked with rum.” He winked, his blue eyes glinting.

“Cider and rum?” A smile warmed her insides as much as any alcohol. “Nice choice, Detective. Since we both can walk home, that works well.”

She swiped her coat sleeve across the picnic table to clear snow off the space beside the thermos and set down the container of treats. In the summertime, baby pools of water were out for the dogs to splash around, but for now it was just ice and snow. Not that the dogs seemed to mind as long as they were free to race frenetic circles around the fenced-in area. The distant warble and cluck of a turkey filled the night as if the bird shouted victory at surviving the season alive.

Her scarf flapped loose from her coat collar. She missed her paisley parka, but between the unwashed dogs, a couple of rips, the sludge and the meth, her clothes had been beyond salvaging. She had to wear her red wool coat for now until she could hit the after-Christmas sales—

What a ridiculous time to worry about clothes or think about the fact she'd chosen to wear contacts today rather than her glasses.

She kicked a ball free from the snow, distracting the dogs.

AJ set down the Cairn Terrier to join in the chase. “Tell me more about this new fella?”

“That's Barkley. He's slated to be in the Mutt Makeover competition. I'm pairing him with a wounded army veteran from Fort Campbell.” She opened the thermos and poured the steaming cider into both mugs. “If we have a shelter dog win, that prize money would mean everything to the Second Chance Ranch.”

“Barkley should win on the cuteness factor alone.” He pitched a ball and the dogs tore off after it.

“If only it could be that simple.” She sipped the warm cider, an after-kick of alcohol tingling through her. The chilly wind tugged at her scarf, and she anchored it with her hand. “You must get very annoyed at all the matchmaking.”

He lifted his mug to his mouth. “We could just have sex again—for the sake of peace.”

Her hand fell to her side. “Or we could just keep talking. They'll think their plan is working and we won't have to listen to the racket indoors.”

His smile was slow in spreading across his face in time with the slow burn building inside her. “Fair enough, then.” He toasted with his cider. “Merry Christmas, to you and your Second Chance Ranch family.”

She drank along with him to hide how the word
family
stung this time of year. The wind rolled across the fields and tugged at her scarf again, pulling the tail free from her coat.

“Did I say something wrong?” He set aside his mug and picked up the edge of her scarf and tugged lightly.

“No, of course not.” Not anything she could share with him. Like the big-city narcotics detective would be sympathetic to her drug addiction that had wreaked havoc on those around her. “I was just thinking that I'm not Lacey's family, not really. I try not to impose on her. Sure, I'm friends with her daughter, but it's not like we're blood related, so I don't want to take advantage.”

His eyes held hers for another instant, and he tugged the scarf, drawing her closer. “What would Francesca do? I've seen you be assertive when it comes to what the animals need. You can take what you want for yourself, too.”

She jerked her scarf out of his hand and jammed it into the V of her coat. “Thanks for the advice, but I don't recall either Francesca or myself asking for it.”

“You're funny.” The dimple kicked into his cheek again, such a contrast to his dark, broody self. “I like that.”

He seemed more approachable when he smiled. And when he tossed the ball for the pups again and again, while she sipped the cider. She allowed herself to relax a little, to settle into the idea of spending time with him.

Maybe she could figure out why she was so drawn to him. “So you do like animals.”

“What made you think I didn't?” He knelt to scratch the beagle on his floppy ears.

“Maybe the fact you don't have a pet of your own in spite of living next door to a rescue. I'm sure Lacey has offered up candidates.”

“The moment was never right with undercover work.” He shrugged, and God, how his shoulders filled out his navy-blue jacket. “I'm thinking it's time to change that. My schedule here is more regular.”

She set aside her mug before the spiked cider stole her restraint. “What made you trade big-city undercover detective work for a sleepy town and small-time stuff?”

“Yesterday was hardly small-time.”

“True enough.” She shuddered at the memory of the filth, but more than that, the pain in the animals' eyes. “Yet certainly rarer than the work you used to do in Atlanta.”

“Call me crazy, but there's an appeal to not waking up each morning wondering if I'll be shot.” He refilled his mug and walked away, toward the pack of dogs rolling in the snow.

Guilt nipped as she watched him stride off with those broad shoulders braced. She was so caught up in her own problems she hadn't thought about others, not really. Even if she wasn't on the clock, job-wise, she should have picked up on this vibe from him before now.

She poured out the rest of the cider into the snow rather than risk the alcohol clouding her mind, and searched for the right words. Sometimes there was nothing to say, just let people have peace to work through the weight of emotion.

Her hand fell to rest on the container of dog biscuits. “I'll put these pups back up with a treat and let some of the others out of their kennel runs.”

AJ's footsteps crunched on the snow, louder and closer until she felt the warmth of him standing behind her. His breath brushed her neck. “They're having fun. Let's wait a bit longer.”

Oooo-kay. What did he want from her? What did
she
want?

She picked up the box of cookies and turned to face him, dog biscuits between them. “Pumpkin peanut butter treats. I took some to the shelter this morning and they were a hit with the canine crowd.”

His hands covered hers over the container. “Great news about the dogs from the meth lab. Will you be going with Lacey to pick them up? Or do you have to work tomorrow, Dr. Freud?”

Her hands warmed even though they both wore gloves. She should just give him the cookies and step away. But she didn't. “I wouldn't miss it. I already called in to work a half day tomorrow afternoon so I can go to the shelter in the morning and be there for the temperament test.”

“I've been thinking about those dogs.” Snow fluttered down, catching on his lashes and making those blue eyes all the more mesmerizing.

“And?” Brilliant response.

He took the cookies from her and set them back on the table. “The police department wants to sponsor a Second Chance dog for the February competition.”

“That's awesome.” She relaxed back against an icy-slick trunk. “Who's going to be the dog's foster? Wyatt?”

“That would be me.” He braced a gloved palm over her head on the tree.

Now, that stunned her silent.

“I thought we could use one of the dogs from yesterday, if any of them works out, and you would be the trainer.”

She struggled to follow his words, tough to do with all the heat pulsing through her veins until she could have sworn the snowflakes steamed on her sleeves. “I train therapy dogs and emotional-support dogs.”

“Then you can include some of that emotional-support aspect to help me get over all those bullets whizzing past my head back in Atlanta.” He winked.

Her eyes narrowed. “I don't appreciate your making light of my profession.”

“Sorry.” He raised both hands in surrender. “The department is on me about being a cranky, irritable son of a bitch. This will get them off my back and you can't deny it will be good promo for the rescue to have one of their pups partnered with one of the men in blue.”

Maybe he'd been using humor to shield something deeper. Wouldn't be the first time. But she didn't want to analyze him right now. “Sure, but—”

“Good. Then we're in agreement. We're working with one of the Second Chance dogs for the competition.”

He angled forward and she readied herself for another kiss on the forehead or on the cheek. She steeled herself to resist. Then his mouth pressed to hers and all her resolve melted away faster than snowflakes hitting a skillet. Sizzling with fire.

Steaming desire through her.

A sigh slipped free, parting her lips, and he deepened the kiss. His mouth angled, his tongue meeting hers just as she stretched up on her toes to get closer. Her arms crept around his neck and she held on, grateful for the tree behind her to keep her from sinking.

His hands cradled her face, a simple touch but it stirred as much as flesh on flesh contact. Her eyes fluttered closed as she focused more intently on absorbing the feel of him against her. Remembering. The chemistry between them was every bit as explosive as before. Even more.

Her fingers twisted in his coat, her hips arching closer, nowhere near close enough with all these layers of clothes between them. Years of abstinence sharpened the edge of desire into a painful ache, almost impossible to resist, especially with her apartment so very close. Her solitary, lonely apartment.

Words began to form in her mind, impulses urging her to just say it. Just ask him to follow her up those stairs to her studio apartment.

A slamming door startled her, her eyes opening wide and her stomach lurching at the prospect of being discovered making out with AJ behind a tree.

Voices drifted on the snowy breeze, familiar voices of volunteers who'd come to the holiday dinner.

“We should help Mary Hannah get the rest of the dogs out before we head home,” Debbie said. “Did you bring those rope toys?”

“Sure did,” her husband answered, boot steps steady as he lumbered through the snow.

They were seconds away from being discovered.

AJ's hands stroked down her face to rest on her shoulders before he stepped back. Cold air rushed between them, all the more biting against her overheated face.

Her rapid breaths puffed needy clouds into the late afternoon air. “AJ—”

He tapped her lips. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“You will?” She spoke against his fingertip and resisted the impulse to nip and draw it into her mouth.

“At the shelter, to find out if I'm a love match with one of the dogs.” He stepped back slowly without taking those mesmerizing blue eyes off her. “Good night, Mary Hannah. Sleep well.”

I didn't realize how much pressure came with the question “Is that your final answer?”

—FEMALE BOXER, FOUR YEARS OLD, SHELTER #S75230

W
ATCHING THE LAST
of her guests drive away, Lacey sagged into a chair on the glassed-in back porch where she kept puppies so she could watch over them. The space was empty now from Christmas adoptions.

She expected the space to be filled tomorrow once Mary Hannah picked up some of the meth-house dogs and pups. She couldn't keep operating as if life were normal for much longer if it turned out she really was pregnant. She still wasn't sure. She was only a few days late, and the home pregnancy test was negative. But she felt pregnant, exhausted, with swollen boobs and feet.

She would have to tell Wyatt soon.

That didn't mean she would have to stop working with animals, but it would curtail her duties, as it had yesterday. Not to mention juggling all of this with an infant would be challenging. Just the thought of keeping up with a toddler again exhausted her. She was almost a grandmother, for heaven's sake.

All of her lectures to her teenage son about safe sex plagued her. She'd definitely lost her credibility in that arena. But damn it, the condom really had broken. She'd started watching the calendar, and sure enough . . .

She sipped her Waterford crystal glass of lemon water. If ever she could have used something stronger . . . She propped her aching feet on the patio coffee table.

Everyone had gone home or to bed. The volunteers had cleaned up and fed the animals as an additional gift to her. She was lucky in so many ways. Knowing that didn't stop the nerves eating at her until her hand trembled and she had to set the glass down again.

Hands slipped onto her shoulders, massaging. She hadn't even heard Wyatt approach. He moved so quietly for such a large man. Because of his job perhaps. She rested her hand over his.

“Thank you. That feels amazing.” She closed her eyes, her head lolling to the side as she savored each kneading roll into knotted muscles.

“Touching you is amazing.” He kissed her temple. “I've been waiting all day to get you alone.”

“Holidays are crowded. It's family time.” She was lucky to have him in her life. She knew that.

Was it so wrong that she wanted to take things slower and ease her way into the relationship? She'd rushed to the altar with Allen because she'd gotten pregnant. But she wasn't a frightened teenager. Even afraid, she'd been so certain Allen was her future. She needed to be as certain this time, regardless.

“What a great Christmas spread you put on, Lacey.” Wyatt swept aside her hair, massaging deeper, the calluses on his fingertips arousing against her skin. “Thank you for including my cousin in that family time.”

She glanced back at him, his strong handsome features tanned and weathered with a midforties maturity she appreciated. His face wore experience in the creases fanning from his eyes. “The images of a bachelor Christmas made me shudder in sympathy for him.”

“What would you have imagined?”

“Beer and fried turkey legs. Maybe some macaroni and cheese from a box. Enjoyed in front of the television.”

His laughter rumbled over her head. “That's bad, why?”

She swatted his arm. “You're such a guy.”

“Good thing.” His hands slid around to the front to graze the tops of her swollen, sensitive breasts.

Usually she enjoyed his touch, but with her emotions in such turmoil, she couldn't relax enough to consider making love. Not tonight. “Well, I appreciate your joining in and putting up with all our casseroles and carols.”

“Hey, I didn't say the beer and ball games would have been better.” He tucked around to sit on the patio sofa, still holding on to her hand. “Everything's better with you around.”

“Flatterer.”

“I only speak the truth.” He tugged her until she had no choice but to sit by him, curled up against his side. “I'm a cop, honor bound and all.”

Her fingers grazed along a scar on his palm where he'd been sliced by a knife when arresting a drunk driver last year.

He linked fingers with her, clasping hands. “I'm safe on the job.”

“I know you are, and I'm so very glad of that.” She smiled up at him, kissed his bristly jaw, then settled back against his side, breathing in the smoky after-scent of the bonfire they'd built to finish off the evening. “I guess that whole meth-lab raid has me rattled. That woman came after you with a baseball bat. It could have been a knife . . . or a gun.”

“This is a small town. Days like yesterday are rare. I'm more likely to get egged than shot.”

She flinched. “You don't have to explain yourself to me. You're only doing your job.”

“And you would rather that job be something more along the lines of an accountant or a trash man.” He stared off into the distance. “Or maybe that veterinarian friend of yours who went to save animals in third-world countries. Anything out of the line of fire.”

Where the hell had the vet comment come from? She and Ray Vega had never been an item. Okay, so they'd kissed. But only once and no one knew about that. It had happened too soon after her husband had died, and then Ray left town to do “missionary” veterinary work. He'd said he was coming back in a year, but he hadn't. She'd moved on. She'd dated Wyatt.

Done more than dated.

She searched for the words to reassure him. The last thing she needed was an argument. “Wouldn't everyone prefer to have people they care about stay out of the line of fire?”

“You've been bitten more often than I've been nicked on a case,” he pointed out accurately. “Remember that pissed-off guy who tried to get to his ex-wife through you since you were boarding her dog while she stayed in a battered women's shelter? We both know animal abuse is often the window to bigger crimes. Maybe I'm the one who should worry.”

The wind howled through the eaves. Beyond the glassed-in patio, the stars dotted the night sky, a view she'd taken comfort in too many times to count. She just wanted this one night to pretend her life was uncomplicated.

She deserved that, right? She would pull a Scarlett O'Hara and deal with the rest tomorrow. “I guess we're both just going to have to start going to yoga together to deal with the stress of each other's jobs.”

He hesitated, then surrendered with a sigh and kiss to her temple. “As long as I don't have to wear yoga pants.”

“You make me laugh. I like that.” She stroked his beard-stubbled face. “Let's just relax, enjoy the night sky and the end of a beautiful Christmas.”

“As a matter of fact, I agree.” He shifted to reach into his jeans pocket. “I still have to give you your Christmas gift.”

“We already exchanged presents earlier.” She'd given him new fishing gear, and he'd bought her concert tickets to her favorite country band. “You got me something else? I feel guilty.”

And a little nervous. A tingle of foreboding raised the hair on the back of her neck.

“That's not my intent. I'm hoping this will make you very happy.”

“We're going on a cruise?” She tried for levity, because oh God, oh God, she hoped this conversation wasn't going where she feared. She wasn't ready for a baby and all that commitment to each other entailed. She absolutely wasn't ready to be married again.

He swept his fingers through her loose curls. “Not a cruise, although that could be a part of the plan if you want it to be.” He eased off the sofa onto one knee in front of her, a ring box in his hand with a princess-cut diamond solitaire. “Lacey, will you be my wife?”

*   *   *

WYATT WASN'T SEEING
a
yes
in Lacey's eyes.

Clutching the ring box in his hand, he struggled to keep his face impassive, not to let her pick up on the disappointment hammering through him. He'd planned to propose on Christmas Eve night so they could tell everyone today. But the meth house had wrecked his time line, tainting the day. He'd thought Christmas Day would be just as romantic and memorable.

He hadn't considered that he might also be wrecking Christmas for the rest of his life as he remembered being dumped on his ass.

“Lacey, babe.” He clasped her shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring grip. “I have to confess this isn't the response I was hoping for.”

“You took me by surprise. That's all.” She blinked fast, a forced smile on her beautiful, tired face. “I wasn't expecting you to propose. The ring is gorgeous.”

She touched the solitaire hesitantly, like it was a snake. Or worse, since she wasn't scared of snakes.

Snapping the ring box closed, he sank back to sit on the sunroom floor. “That's still not a yes.”

“Why would you want to saddle yourself with a woman who's up to her eyeballs in debt buying land to expand an already-zany rescue full of animals?” She gestured to the two tabby cats sleeping on the back of the sofa and over to the empty puppy pens that would soon be full of little ones from the meth-house raid.

“Because I love you, and I thought you felt the same.”

“I do love you.” She slid off the sofa to kneel in front of him, her hands resting on his legs. “Those are words I've never said to any man other than Allen. And I mean them . . .”

“But you're not ready.” He could see it in her eyes.

She closed her hand over his, folding his fingers back over the ring box. “I'm thinking about it, though, truly. I'm just exhausted today, feeling overwhelmed. This should be a happy moment.”

“You're right.” He stroked back her tangled curls, wishing this day had ended differently. “We'll do this again, the right way, with a dinner and candlelight. We have a whole future together. A family to share. Since you have a grandbaby on the way, we get all the fun of kids without the work. It's a win-win.”

She went pale. “You don't want to have a baby of your own?”

Realization sank in. He shook his head, enjoying the glide of her fingers along his face. “Were you worrying I would pressure you? We should have talked about this before now. I'm fine not having a biological kid of my own. Nathan's a great teenager. I'll love him like my own. I'm too old to do the diaper duty and midnight feedings. Besides, there are plenty of little ones to take care of here at the rescue.”

“You're a good man, Wyatt.” She searched his face with troubled eyes.

“Then what's the problem?” He couldn't stop the disappointment . . . and jealousy. “Are you still grieving for your dead husband?” Hell, he still thought about his ex. He'd gotten over loving her, but her cheating still cut deep.

“No,” she said without hesitation. “It's not that. I'll always miss him, but I'm moving forward. Right now I'm still figuring out how to be single. It has nothing to do with you. Can't we just keep on as we are for now? We're having fun and the sex is awesome. Give me a little more time, okay?”

He decided to play it her way, for now. Not that he had any choice. “The sex is awesome, you say?”

“Damn straight.” She leaned forward to kiss him, the taste of lemon on her tongue.

He shifted her to recline on the floor, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her thoroughly. If only he could seduce her into understanding how perfect their future could be. Wishing he could stroke away her fears. Because he knew without question, she was afraid of something and he had a suspicion what that might be.

She'd lost a husband already in a tragic way. That had to have left mark beyond some gentle passing. Military or cop, they wore uniforms and stood in the line of fire. So either she still loved her dead husband or she couldn't love him, Wyatt, for fear of losing him to the job.

Either way, he was screwed.

*   *   *

I HAVE ONE
name now that belongs only to me, my forever dog name.

The lady with two names picked it. Her name is Mary Hannah. I wondered for a while if those two names explained why she had so much pain inside her. Like when my life was bad and I had three names.

Except her two names were never shouted with a sneer, so maybe it isn't the number of names after all. Maybe it's about the person speaking them.

But back to the day I found out what they would call me.

I was in that concrete place at the shelter, the space they called a kennel run. I was alone and starting to wonder if I had hallucinated those pumpkin cookies from the day before. My solitary confinement had something to do with quarantine because of the meth and how I behaved the day they rescued me. How strange that I could hate my old home and still be so terrified of this new place where at least I was alone.

The noise, though, oh Big Master, the noise was deafening after my other life. So many dogs barking and people talking. But there was food, plenty of food, and no one touched me—more important, no one kicked me—as long as that quarantine sign stayed on my new home.

Quarantine.

I knew that word from game shows. Isolation because of a disease. I was somehow diseased because of my past. So I curled up in a corner on the cot, hoping to escape notice. There were different people who took care of us each meal and cleaning. Some made eye contact with looks that showed a tenderness I hadn't seen until then except in Mary Hannah's eyes. Others averted their gaze, either out of fear of me or to protect themselves from getting attached. I didn't learn until later in life how very many thousands of animals landed in a county shelter.

Then Mary Hannah came back after all.

Her eyes held sympathy and something else that made me want to be more than scared. She stopped at my kennel run again and sat on the floor, tossing in more of those pumpkin cookie treats. She talked to me but still didn't open the gate this time either because of that quarantine sign.

So I listened to Mary Hannah's soft voice, more soothing than the music.