I loved romance shows like The Bachelor and The Newlywed Game, but my favorite was reruns of the old-fashioned Dating Game. Such anticipation waiting for the verdict: “I pick bachelor number . . .”
—FEMALE BOXER, FOUR YEARS OLD, SHELTER #S75230
OH. GOD.
Was AJ about to kiss her?
Mary Hannah stared into his intense blue eyes, wondering if the heated intent was real or an illusion from the dash lights. She should just open the door, get the hell out of his messy all-terrain vehicle where these even messier emotions were jumbling up inside her. She would hop the gate to the Second Chance Ranch and run all the way to her studio apartment.
But she couldn’t seem to make her hands let go of the edge of the seat.
Her senses had gone on overload, from the feel of the rough upholstery against her palms to breathing in the lemony scent of the air freshener with every gasping breath.
This whole Christmas Eve had been so upside down. She clenched the seat harder to resist the impulse to pull his beard-stubbled face toward her and make that kiss happen all the sooner.
“AJ, the security code is five-seven-three-two.” She angled away to lean against the door. “We should hurry. Lacey will need my help getting ready for Sierra and Mike’s visit. They’re due in anytime now, if they aren’t here already.”
God, she was babbling like an idiot. Of course AJ would know that Lacey’s daughter and son-in-law were due in tonight. And he likely knew why she was babbling.
He stared back at her silently for so long she thought he might ignore her words and kiss her anyway. She didn’t even question for a second that the kiss would be explosive, powerful. Satisfying. She knew from experience.
She also knew she wouldn’t be able to resist, and if she crossed that line with him as Mary Hannah—rather than Francesca—everything would get so damn complicated. She needed simple. Her sanity depended on it. Order helped her conquer the daily battle against addiction.
She couldn’t afford even a kiss from this man.
Before she could have second thoughts, she leaned across him and lowered the window. The heat of his whipcord strength against her was tempting, melting through her like cotton candy on the tongue. She punched the security code in with extra force and sank back into her seat.
God, her heart was drumming in her ears.
She ground her teeth and willed the gate to open faster so she could . . . what? Hurry to her lonely studio apartment with her sad little tabletop tree and perfectly lined up nativity figures? A minute ago the place sounded like a haven. Now, not so much. How strange to suddenly feel so alone when she lived in a place full of people and animals.
The old Harvester Scout jostled along the dirt road leading to the white farmhouse where Lacey lived. A spotlight shone on a sign that read Second Chance Ranch Rescue. Garlands were draped along the top of that new sign, a part of the rescue’s expansion over the past year and a half. Lacey had bought an extra acre when some cranky neighbors moved. She’d expanded fences to take in horses as well but rented out that cabin next door to AJ for extra cash to fund her rescue.
How different her life would be right now if she’d realized the guy she picked up at a truck-stop bar was the new tenant Lacey had been talking about.
Last summer when he’d moved in, the leaves on the trees had blocked her view of his home an acre away. But recently, through the icy skeletal branches, sometimes late at night she could see the lights glowing in his place, reminding her she wasn’t the only one who had trouble sleeping. Avoiding each other was tough enough in a small town. Damn near impossible when they lived next door and shared a landlord.
Silently, AJ drove past Lacey’s house to the red barn that housed many of the rescue’s animals. Lights lined the edges of the roof thanks to Lacey’s teenage son. Earlier this week a preschool class had come by and built snow cats and snow pups around the fenced play yard before feeding the animals treats.
Mary Hannah grabbed the door handle as the vehicle stopped near the outdoor stairway leading to her apartment. Best to pretend the almost kiss hadn’t happened. “Thank you again for the ride.”
Her feet hit the hard-packed ice, and she held on to the open door for balance. She refused to be disappointed AJ didn’t say a word to stop her.
Then he was there in front of her, having moved from his side of the vehicle in a smooth flash. He held the puppy-paw blanket rolled up in his fist. “You’ll probably go by the shelter before I will and can return this.”
She took the cotton throw, the warmth of his hand clinging to the fabric.
“Thanks.” She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders again. “And, uh, Merry Christmas.”
“It’s been a memorable one for sure.” He took her elbow without asking and steadied her past those lopsided snow kitties and snow pups, toward the steps leading to her place. A sled was propped up against a post at the base, caked in ice as if encouraging her to relax, to play.
His boots crunched with evenly paced strides. “Now that we’ve declared this truce, how do we get Lacey and Wyatt to back off with the matchmaking?”
“I wish I knew the answer to that. Lacey has done so much to help me, I’m not really sure how to make her understand without telling her everything and I just can’t.” She shook her head.
“Wyatt and Lacey seem to think everyone should be as giddy as they are—”
“Giddy? That’s just not a word I would expect you to use.” Her nervousness over that almost kiss made her latch on to the small thought. There was so much about him that confused her.
“When have we talked enough for you to form an opinion of my word choices?”
“That’s my point. You haven’t struck me as the chatty sort.” Yet he’d spoken to her quite a lot today, mixing up that irritability with surprising concern and humor. “You seem like more of the grunt-and-point kind of guy.”
“I thought counselors were supposed to be nonjudgmental.” He stopped at the foot of the outdoor staircase, blocking the path upward.
“I thought cops were supposed to . . .”
“What?”
The one word puffed into the cold air between them, launching goose bumps along her flesh that had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures.
She sagged back against the barn wall. “Hell, I don’t have a witty comeback.”
“Seriously.” A smile tucked one dimple into his cheek. “That’s it?”
She nodded, hugging the blanket closer, her hair turning chilly from the last bits of dampness. “Blame it on the aftereffects of meth fumes and the adrenaline surge from the danger.”
“Thank you again for coming to my rescue earlier. The way you handled that dog and the whole operation was impressive. I imagine that will be all the talk around the station, how you saved my bacon,” he said without the least hint of concern or ego she would have expected from her ex-husband.
That quick the thought of Ted blindsided her too close to that almost kiss with AJ earlier by the gate. She needed to retreat upstairs, into her home. Alone. Because right now being by herself didn’t sound sad and scary anymore. It sounded like a sanctuary from the mixed feelings that being with AJ inspired.
“Thank you for the ride home. We can call it even.” She thrust out her hand to shake his. “Merry Christmas, AJ.”
He clasped her fingers and tugged ever so slightly. “Merry Christmas, Mary Hannah.”
He leaned in and for a heart-stopping instant she thought he was going to kiss her after all. At the last second, he veered up and pressed his mouth to her forehead. Such a simple kiss, but the warm press of his lips on her skin felt damn good. Her eyes slid closed and she swayed, willing him to put his arms around her so she wouldn’t have to ask.
Except he didn’t. He angled back and the cold night air swept over her. She scrambled for something—anything—to say to fill that awkward space between them.
“Did I miss out spotting the mistletoe?” she asked breathlessly.
“That had nothing to do with the holiday.” His hands fell to rest on her shoulders.
His behavior was giving her whiplash. Frustrated desire made her edgy—hell, downright cranky. “I thought we agreed to ignore the matchmakers.”
“Believe me, I’m not thinking about Wyatt or Lacey right now.”
Then what was he doing? What kind of game was he playing?
She rested her hands on his chest, needing distance between them. “You’re seeing me as Francesca, and I’m not. This is me, paisley and buttoned-up, an OCD girl. Let it go, AJ. I’m not interested.”
He backed away from her, his eyes staying locked on her the whole time with that dark intensity as he whispered, “One of the benefits of being a cop for so long? I can tell when people are lying.”
His wink sent a shiver up her spine. Then he walked back to his car, tucked behind the wheel and drove back up the long driveway, red taillights glowing. She blinked and the lights were gone.
Grabbing the stair railing, she hauled herself up the steps faster than was wise. She would be keeping her eyes off that window tonight.
* * *
AJ GUNNED THE engine, his Scout threatening to spin out on the ice as he left those lumpy snow kitties and snow pups behind.
He’d meant that forehead kiss to set a new tone of friendship. A symbol of their truce. Instead, what should have been a platonic peck had knocked him on his ass. He could still smell the hint of peppermint that would always remind him of her.
Damn. Just damn it. He accelerated away from the barn and sprawling fat oak trees, naked branches glinting with ice. He sped back up the drive until the lights along the front porch dimmed with distance.
With each mile away, he knew the distance and time wouldn’t help. He still wanted her. Didn’t have a clue how to stop. He just needed to figure out what the hell he intended to do about it. Preferably before he saw her again.
Which, given the fact that they were neighbors, would undoubtedly be soon.
The town lights grew brighter and closer. His day was far from done. He still needed to check in at the station. Theirs was a small police department. As much as he wanted to leave the memories of his undercover work behind, he couldn’t avoid responsibilities. His experience in the world of illegal narcotics trafficking would be valuable.
He owed it to that little kid under the bed in Atlanta holding a pink sippy cup full of drain cleaner from a meth lab. The child he’d thought might one day be his daughter—Aubrey. He’d foolishly believed Sheila meant it when she’d said she wanted out of the gang and that she wanted to build a better life for her daughter. With him.
Like a total sap, he’d been so certain she was legit since Sheila hadn’t known she was speaking to a cop. He’d been undercover, and while he’d hated lying to her, he’d known maintaining his cover was the best way to keep her safe. He’d fallen for her, never once suspecting that she was telling the worst lie of all.
The lie of an addict. Lying to herself.
Sheila had gone to jail for possession and child endangerment. Aubrey had gone into foster care. He’d used every contact he had to keep track of the toddler until a distant relative petitioned to adopt her. That should have eased the roaring in his head.
No such luck. Until one night he’d almost gotten his partner shot by hesitating because a woman with a gun looked like Sheila.
That made the decision to accept Wyatt’s offer a no-brainer.
It wasn’t like Mary Hannah reminded him of Sheila. They couldn’t be any more different. Other than the fact they both interfered with his ability to think straight.
He needed to wrap up this case, lock away those responsible for the meth lab and send the animals on their way to homes. No more wounded eyes haunting him.
And after that?
It was time to accept he wanted to sleep with Mary Hannah even more than he wanted Francesca.
* * *
MARY HANNAH KNELT beside the Santa statue by her door and scooped up her house key. Her hand still trembled, goose bumps as real as the memory of a simple sorta kiss. Her very fertile imagination filled with images of them tangled up in stark white motel sheets and a polyester spread, of him sinking inside her. Of her sinking her teeth into his shoulder.
She rested her forehead against the slick door.
“Mary Hannah?”
She turned so quickly she almost slipped on the ice before she grabbed the handrail. Holding tight, she looked down at Lacey McDaniel stepping out of the mudroom door of the main house.
“Lacey? You startled me.”
“Sorry about that.” Lacey stepped the rest of the way outside, crystal wineglass in hand and a three-legged Lab loping after her. “I just wanted to see how everything went finishing up at the shelter.”
“They’re all settled.” She started down the stairs. “All we can do is wait on the temperament tests and the police legalese.”
Lacey picked her way through the snow wearing fuzzy bedroom slippers and a cardigan that kept slipping off her shoulder. Her caramel curls were gathered up in a loose bundle that always looked ready to explode but somehow never slipped free. She was quirky, no question, but she was a strong woman. She’d not only survived the loss of her husband, but she took care of her aging father-in-law and a teenage son and oversaw this operation that saved so many lives.
Mary Hannah admired her on more levels than she could count.
Lacey hugged her cardigan tighter and met Mary Hannah at the foot of the steps. “Sorry I wasn’t of more help today.”
“You have family responsibilities. Everyone understands.” She rubbed the corner of the blanket between two fingers and thought of AJ draping it around her shoulders. “It’s a lot to take on with the Valentine competition coming up. I’m here to help. So no more apologies.”
“Fair enough.” Lacey lifted her crystal glass in toast.
If they could pull off a coup at the My Furry Valentine Mutt Makeover, they stood a real chance at putting the Second Chance Ranch on the map. “You should go back inside and get warm. I’m going to change into real clothes.”
“Actually, I’ve been watching the front gate. Sierra and Mike are due any minute now. The roads from North Carolina haven’t been hit too hard by the storm.” She leaned against the play-yard fence, her face tipped into the night breeze. “I imagine you’ll want some best-friend catch-up time.”
“We have the whole Christmas vacation.” Mary Hannah had been introduced to the rescue by fellow graduate school student Sierra, Lacey’s daughter. Now Sierra had moved to North Carolina with her army husband. This was definitely a night for girl talk over big bowls of ice cream.
A tone chimed from the security alarm, along with a squeak as the security gate opened. Only someone with the code could get through.
Lacey downed the rest of her drink before tucking the crystal into a fat wool pocket. “I sent Joshua and Nathan for dinner rolls . . .” Her father-in-law and son. “But Sierra and Mike are due, too.”
A familiar truck drove down the dirt drive, exhaust puffing into the cold night.
Sierra.
Excitement sprinkled joy over the gloomy residue of the day, like snowflakes covering the wintery earth.
Dogs barked inside the barn, but thanks to volunteers, they’d all gotten to tear around in the snow today before being given fresh bedding and food for the night.
The truck stopped alongside the barn; driver’s-side Mike leaped out waving. “Hey, ladies. Merry Christmas.”
“So happy you’re here.” Lacey hooked arms with Mary Hannah, approaching the truck.
Mike slid like an ice-skater toward the passenger side to open the door for his very pregnant wife. He held out a hand to Sierra as she stepped out of the truck. Her almost-seven-months-pregnant belly filled the brown wool coat—clearly one of Mike’s—but Sierra had always had a natural beauty who didn’t need glitz. Plus she now had that inner sparkle, magnified by the glow of pregnancy. “Careful, Sierra, hon. I’ve got ya.”
Smile frozen on her face, Mary Hannah stifled a wince. As she looked at her friend’s pregnant stomach, her husband’s tender care, a wound reopened in her heart, a wound that had never quite healed. For so long after her miscarriage she couldn’t even look at a pregnant woman because the ache of losing her child stabbed so deep. She’d only just started to feel the flutters of life inside her as she’d entered her fourth month of pregnancy.
Mary Hannah forced herself to say cheerfully, “Can I help?”
“I may look like a whale, but I can still walk.” Sierra braced herself, holding his arm and the doorframe. She kissed her husband’s cheek before stepping off the running board. “This will be my last trip before the baby’s born, and I intend to enjoy it. Thanks, Mike.”
“Sure thing,” he said. “I’ll be right in. I need to take Trooper for a quick run first.”
A tan shepherd mix, Trooper leaped out of the cab of the truck in a blur of fur and energy. The midsized mutt had been Lacey’s husband’s companion in Iraq, and when he’d died, Mike had brought Trooper home to the McDaniel family. Now Mike was a part of their family, too. Trooper had bonded so tightly to Sierra and Mike that, when they’d moved, Trooper had gone with them.
If they hadn’t taken him, without question, the smart pup would have escaped every fence on the property and tracked them all the way to North Carolina.
Lacey gave Mike a quick hug before she slid a balancing arm around her daughter’s thickened waist. Mike waved again as he jogged to catch up with Trooper. The crazy mutt was already bounding through the snow, Clementine the three-legged Labrador close on his heels to catch her buddy, the two of them leaving crop circles of paw prints.
The wind cut through Mary Hannah’s sweat suit and the blanket. She backed away, feeling guilty for trying to escape until she could get used to seeing Sierra’s pregnant stomach. “Sierra, we’ll catch up later. I should let you all have your family time.”
Extending her arm, Sierra waggled her fingers for Mary Hannah, clearly not taking no for an answer. “You are family. Join us.”
Mary Hannah surrendered to the inevitable and followed. “For a few minutes. I really do need to change soon.”
Lacey tugged open the back door for Sierra, her daughter’s ponytail swishing along her back as she waddled ahead up the steps. “I’m so glad you and Mike made it in tonight. Was the drive too awful?”
“Snowy, slow going. God, Mom, I never knew being pregnant meant peeing all the freaking time.” Sierra shuffled toward the half bath tucked under the stairs. “And food, Mom, please,” she called through the closed door. “I’m starving.”
Lacey opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of salad. “Your brother and grandfather aren’t back with the rolls yet, but I can make you a ham sandwich. Mary Hannah? Would you like one, too?”
“No thank you.” She wanted to leave, but she was a people pleaser. She always did what she was supposed to—and if she didn’t the world went to hell. She dragged in a ragged breath.
Sierra came back out of the bathroom with a huge sigh of relief and slumped in a chair at the scarred table. “Yes, a sandwich, please.” She trailed her fingers along the cat circling her chair. “With cheese, too. And if there are cookies in that old Santa jar, I’ll do the dishes for all eternity.”
“Mary Hannah’s bringing the cookies tomorrow. We’re all running a little behind schedule.” Lacey pulled bread from the bread box—an old-fashioned necessity that kept dogs from counter-surfing to steal a bag. “Today’s hoarding situation turned out to be a lot more involved than we expected. They were running a meth-lab operation out of a home, plus a backyard breeding business.”
“How awful. Are you two okay?”
Mary Hannah hugged herself. “It was sad. Beyond sad, really. I’m not sure I’ll ever forget the look in that mother boxer’s eyes . . .” She hesitated, the meow from under the table and the cuckoo clock in the hall filling the void, announcing seven fifteen. “Hopefully we’ll have her here soon. Lacey? And you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I didn’t see the worst of it since I was outside the whole time.” She sliced off a piece of ham and added it to the bread with cheese and mustard. “Then I left early to get back here. I owe Mary Hannah. She carried the brunt of the work helping out Animal Control and the police.”
She set the plate with a sandwich in front of Sierra along with a glass of milk and a cloth reindeer napkin.
“Just doing what I can and hoping once they clear their systems of the meth, they’ll get the green light to come here.”
Sierra took a bite out of her sandwich and sighed blissfully as she chewed. “Remember Lucky, the one that ate a teenager’s stash of weed? Once he detoxed from the pot, he was a great, adoptable dog.”
Lacey tucked away the bread. “A dog that lived with a family. Sure, the teen had a drug problem, but everything else in that house was relatively normal. That sure wasn’t the case today.”
Sierra set aside her glass of milk. “When does Wyatt get here? I assume he’s coming over.”
“He’s still filing a report on today’s incident. He’ll be here after he finishes up at the station and changes, probably later this evening.” She checked inside the Crock-Pot. “You’ll get to meet his cousin, too.”
“Lacey,” Mary Hannah warned softly.
“The new cop? The one you keep telling me is perfect for Mary Hannah. Who’d have thought you would play Cupid?”
“It was Wyatt’s idea.”
Sierra nodded, polishing off the last of her sandwich. “He probably liked the notion that you would have Mary Hannah to distract you so he can talk about a ball game or fishing with his cousin.”
Lacey closed the Crock-Pot with a clatter. “That’s a little cynical. He’s a nice guy.”
“I know. It was a poor attempt at a joke. I’m happy for you, Mom.” She traced a scar in the well-worn family table. “The holidays just have me missing Dad. You deserve to be happy, and if Wyatt makes you happy, I’m all in.”
“He does. But I miss your dad, too.”
Sierra leaned to hug her mom tight, blond ponytail swinging around.
Mary Hannah felt like a fifth wheel, not to mention a self-pity wimp. This family had every reason to feel loss over the holidays, and unlike her, they’d done nothing wrong. Nothing to deserve this pain.
She eased back quietly to slip out the door.
Sierra pulled away from her mom and tossed the napkin on the table. “Wait, Mary Hannah. I really want to catch up with you before supper starts.” She glanced at her mother. “Is that okay with you, Mom?”
“Absolutely. We have weeks to visit, and I need to tie up some loose ends now.”
So much for making a clean escape. But she couldn’t deny the relief of getting that girl time and ice cream after all.