Apparently Family Feud wasn’t just a game show . . .
—FEMALE BOXER, FOUR YEARS OLD, SHELTER #S75230
CHRISTMAS AT THE McDaniel house was so different from Mary Hannah’s home growing up. Her mother always had a perfectly matched tree like the kinds found in a high-end store’s front window, a larger version of her little tree in her apartment.
The McDaniel Christmas tree had been cut from their land. One side was fatter than the other. The whole fir was covered in a hodgepodge of ornaments, some clearly gifts from adopters with photos of their new pet inside and other handmade ornaments signed by Lacey’s children.
It was a family tree.
Mary Hannah sat at the base by a pile of discarded wrapping paper, boxes and bows. She gently traced a crystal bulb with Lacey’s wedding date stenciled in flowing script.
Mary Hannah slumped back against the wall, enjoying the peaceful nook to observe the chaos that came with any Second Chance Ranch gathering, a mix of relatives and Second Chance volunteers who didn’t have anyone else, even two young couples who had each other but were drawn to this extended-family feel. Over the island between the kitchen and the family room, she could see one group was playing board games. Another played cards out in the sunroom.
Inside, the television droned John Wayne movies for the grandfather with Alzheimer’s. Mike parked beside him with Trooper, feet on the coffee table, playing his guitar softly.
Total controlled chaos, plus four dogs and three cats mostly oblivious. Trooper inched off the sofa and sidled into the kitchen. He stationed himself by the table to scavenge bites of food that had fallen to the floor—or had been surreptitiously passed down.
AJ backed out of the refrigerator and closed the door, a plate with two slices of pecan pie in hand. He stepped over Trooper on his way back into the family room. He looked so damn good in a green sweater and well-worn jeans.
He knelt beside her. “Wanna share some pie? This stuff’s like frickin’ ambrosia. There’s no way there will be any left by the end of the day.”
“Sure, thanks.” She took the extra fork from the edge of the plate while he sat beside her. “This is like one of those Christmases you hear about but never see.”
Her parents were always so uptight, everything kept calm the way her father wanted. She’d expected to build a different future with her own family.
“The McDaniels have worked hard to get back to normal.” He stabbed off a bite of his slice of pie and rested the plate on his knee.
“They deserve this day.” Sharing the dish seemed strangely intimate, but not eating would make more of it than if she did.
He shrugged, shoveling another bite into his mouth. “That’s why I’m here. To lend support.”
“You got guilted into showing up, too, huh?” She scraped her fork along the goopy filling and pecans, leaving the crust. Her sister was allergic to nuts, on top of being epileptic. So that ruled out pecan pie at her house.
“Strong-armed would be the more appropriate wording.”
“What did you want to do instead?” She savored the taste of pure filling, caramel and nuts. The sugar rush went straight to her head.
“Go fishing. And you?” He ate a piece of her abandoned crust.
“I spent the morning at the shelter taking treats to the dogs.”
This sharing food was definitely not accidental. He was tormenting her on purpose. She sucked her fork clean.
He blinked hard once before speaking. “How’s Mama?”
“Quiet. Still wary, but she liked the pumpkin peanut butter cookies I made for them.” How strange to realize this was the first time they’d spoken with each other, just talked comfortably without there being an official reason.
He set the plate onto the edge of the hearth, flames crackling. “You have a big heart, Mary Hannah. It’s no wonder the whole town adores you.”
She hugged her knees to her chest. “I am not some kind of saint.”
“Do you say that because of Francesca?”
“Shhh!” She touched his knee. “Someone might hear you.”
Chuckling, he covered her hand with his, linking their fingers. “I’m certain even if they heard that little bit they wouldn’t guess the truth.”
She let her fingers curl around his, his palm warm against hers.
“You’re right there.” She looked around at the group gathered, and God, it would be almost comical to see their shock if they heard about the other side of her. The side that lost control and made the most unwise decisions.
She felt the weight of AJ’s eyes in the silence between them. But then they didn’t need words right now. The memory was plenty clear of that steamy rainy evening. Of a flirtation that escalated fast and led them into a motel room where they’d peeled wet clothes off each other.
A cleared throat snapped the tension between them. She looked up quickly and found Lacey’s teenage son slouching, clothes too big, almost as big as his grin. “Wanna join us for a game of Risk?”
“Sure. Can’t have Wyatt thinking his matchmaking is working.” AJ stood, holding out a hand. “Mary Hannah?”
The longer she waited the more conspicuous it would be. But her stomach knotted at the thought of taking this step. So simple really, just joining in the chaos and fun.
Leaving the past Christmas traditions behind.
Nathan passed the boxed game to AJ. “Grab a seat. I’ll be right back.”
Lacey tipped her chair at the kitchen table and asked, “Where are you going?”
The teenager paused on his way to the hall, the cuckoo clock blaring. “Dad always made us wear military hats he picked up around the world when we played Risk.”
Everyone at the table went quiet.
Nathan spread his arms wide. “What? It’s not like I’m gonna go all suicidal over a mention of Dad.” The fact that the kid joked about his attempt to kill himself drew uncertain laughs. Nathan shook his head. “Lighten up and be real. Dad’s a part of our past. So deal with it and quit treating me with kid gloves. I’m dealing with it the best way I know how.”
Gramps shot to his feet. “I want the Bolivian general’s hat. Ups my chances of getting the hot chicks.” He winked at Mary Hannah. “Wanna be on my team?”
Looking at the twinkle in the old man’s eyes, she knew he was totally clear for one of his rare moments. And there was wisdom there. Life was tough enough on its own without borrowing trouble.
Lighten up and just enjoy the moment. The morning would come soon enough.
Mary Hannah pushed to her feet and hooked an arm through the General’s. “I would be honored to have you on my side, sir.”
* * *
“THAT WAS REALLY awesome how you handled the General and his Alzheimer’s this afternoon.” AJ slid two board games on the top shelf of the hall closet, then reached behind him to get the stacks of cards from Mary Hannah. He’d expected to just endure Christmas, but this had been . . . good.
“I’m a counselor.” She tucked two of the decks into his hand, her soft fingers brushing his palm. “It’s what I do. And truly, it wasn’t that tough, just letting him enjoy a family tradition. What did your family do during holidays?”
“Board games like this. A lot of food. Television and naps.” He turned to face her, the hall narrow and private. Close. “My dad and Wyatt’s father are brothers. Our mothers teach at the same junior high school. Plus other distant cousins . . . holidays were a zoo like this.”
“Wyatt has re-created home for you both here,” she said perceptively.
She smelled like pecan pie and a hint of smoke from sitting so close to the fire. Her sleek black hair was loose, a stark contrast to her white sweater. A Christmas wreath pin fastened to her shoulder peeked between strands of hair. So quaint and cute and totally Mary Hannah.
“I guess Wyatt has.” Except he didn’t want to talk about his cousin. He wanted to get to know this more relaxed Mary Hannah. “Do you have family? I don’t recall anyone visiting. Come to think of it, we skipped the exchange of histories.”
“I have a sister—Sarah Jane. She lives in California and runs a successful Internet business—kind of like Etsy.” She sagged back against the wall, smiling. “She’s an amazing person. She had epilepsy—still does—but the meds are better these days and regardless she came up with a successful career and life.” Their dad had always demanded such order out of fear for his child’s health. Turned out Sarah Jane was the strong one.
“Her sister’s pretty successful, too.” He brushed her hair aside so he could see that little wreath.
“Thanks, but really”—she chewed her bottom lip—“it was tougher for her.”
“What about your parents?”
“My father died of a stroke when I was in college.” She scrunched her nose. “He had high blood pressure and a fiery temper. Not a good combination. He got angry one day and literally blew a gasket.” She winced. “Bad joke.”
“Sometimes jokes and sarcasm help.”
“My mom died in a car accident the year after my father passed away.” She fidgeted with her wreath pin. “I’ve always wondered if she killed herself. I’ll never know. Maybe that’s a part of why I decided to be a counselor, to make sense of my life. Okay. Stop. I’m being really morbid here.”
“You must have some happy memory, something from Christmas?” He stepped closer.
Her eyes went wide with panic. “This has been nice, but I’m starting to go on sensory overload from all the merriment. I’m going to give some of those pumpkin peanut butter treats to the dogs here, too.”
He skimmed a hand along her shoulder, not wanting to push too hard, too fast, but also not ready for this to end. And yeah, he was worried about those shadows that had just chased through her eyes. This was Christmas. “Want some company?”
She hesitated, searching his eyes and toying with that wreath pin. “I don’t want to start gossip.”
“Then I’ll give you a five-minute head start.”
A slow smile spread over her face. “Okay, then. Sounds like a plan.”
* * *
ONCE SHE SNATCHED the container of dog treats from the counter, Mary Hannah grabbed her red wool coat and made her escape out the mudroom door. Checkered curtains fluttered at the gust of frigid air before she pushed the door closed.
Was she freaking crazy? She did not need to be meeting AJ out here. Alone.
Breathing in the crisp breeze, she clutched the container of cookies under her arm and held the rail on her way down the steps. She’d worked hard to rebuild her life, and for the past few years she’d managed holidays better each time. Except for today. And she couldn’t ignore the fact that AJ Parker caused that turmoil.
Tupperware container under her arm, she slipped her cold hands into her pockets. She picked her way gingerly over the ice along the covered walkway leading to the barn. Distant squeals carried from the distance of a half-dozen volunteers sledding. She opened the side door that housed the Second Chance Ranch Rescue. Rows of kennel runs housed a dozen dogs, two horses, a donkey and a pig, thanks to the latest round of renovations. Even more animals lived in foster homes.
This place gave her a comfort that had been far too elusive since her life had fallen apart. Sure, she was Sierra’s friend, but what if Lacey married Wyatt? If things went south with AJ, that could wreck things for her here.
Even his brief kiss on her forehead had left her tossing and turning all night. That simple brush of his mouth against her skin brought their one-night stand roaring back to life in her memories until she felt the urge to find relief in a deep, foggy medicated sleep. A dangerous temptation. She’d even called her Narcotics Anonymous sponsor this morning and would be attending a meeting next week. She just had to make it through the holidays and then she could lose herself in her work, with patients and here with the animals.
She placed the homemade dog treats on a shelf, opened the last stall and tucked inside to scoop up a scruffy white Cairn-Terrier mix named Barkley. She’d chosen him to partner with a patient she counseled at the VA hospital, the veteran who’d lost a leg and an arm in Afghanistan.
Mary Hannah cuddled the scruffy little scrap, and he licked her chin in appreciation just before his ears perked up. He barked a warning. She turned fast to find AJ in the doorway watching her.
“How long have you been there?” she asked self-consciously.
“Only for a few seconds,” he answered with a wry smile. “I thought we could let some of the dogs have an extra run in the play yard.”
“Oh, um, thanks. I would appreciate the help. It takes a while since we divide them into groups according to how they play together.”
“Good thing I brought us something to drink. It’s out on the picnic table.”
“I’m not much of a beer drinker,” she said skeptically.
“I remember. You ordered a Diet Coke with rum the night we met.”
That he remembered the small detail from months ago made her breath catch in her throat. She thrust the Cairn Terrier into his arms. “Take Barkley and I’ll open the gates for the other dogs in his playgroup. Meet you outside.”
She couldn’t decide if she was a coward or just strategically wise, but she ducked into the supply closet to get tennis balls for fetch—and to gather her composure. Three ragged breaths later, she retrieved the dog treats from the shelf, a bag of tennis balls dangling from her wrist. She opened gates along her way outside, her stomach buzzing with nerves. Five bundles of energy raced ahead of her to the snowy play yard. A beagle skidded along the packed ice, tumbling butt over head, then righting himself again.
AJ’s laugh carried on the wind, deep, masculine and tempting. Drawn to the sound, she walked closer, couldn’t seem to stop her feet if she tried. She pitched a tennis ball past the sprawling oak tree, and the rest of the pack raced past. The bird feeders that stayed full year round swayed, showering seeds.
“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.”