“No, not at all. We need you. You’re a damn good cop. Everyone here knows that.”
“Then why are you all busting my chops? And why the hell was our boss discussing it with you?”
“We know the signs of burnout.” Concern creased Wyatt’s forehead. “He asked for my opinion as your partner and your relative.”
The last thing AJ wanted was a pity party behind his back. “Hey, if I’m causing you trouble, I’ll quit. You called in favors to line up the job interview here. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me jack shit.” Wyatt pulled two mismatched mugs out of the cabinet. “We’re family. That’s why I want to give you the heads-up.”
“Heads-up about what?” He pushed the pause button on the coffeemaker and filled both mugs.
“The captain has a plan to reassure himself your head’s on straight. And when the doc or the captain mentions it, you are going to say yes.” Wyatt lifted an eyebrow and his mug in a toast.
AJ blew into his mug of steaming java. He wasn’t going to win this argument with his cousin or the department, and it hadn’t escaped his notice that Wyatt didn’t answer his question. Bottom line, he didn’t want to put anyone at risk if he was screwed up. So whatever it was that Wyatt thought would make him run from this plan, he would just get over it.
Drinking his coffee, AJ eyed his cousin over the mug. “Sure, fine, of course I’ll go see the shrink. You got me the job and I don’t want to cause friction for you at work.”
“Don’t do this for me. Do it for yourself. And to be clear, you got the job based on your merits. We don’t have a force big enough to give away positions.”
His merits had only bought him burnout. He was weary with the job, the devastation, the sense that no matter how many criminals he brought down, he’d scraped only the first layer of scum off a bottomless pit. And apparently Cooksburg wasn’t much different from Atlanta when it came to the meth business.
Undercover work almost nonstop for seven years had raked him raw inside. He’d experienced a weak moment yesterday, which also explained his lack of control around Mary Hannah. He just wanted to hole up with his television today and recharge. Yes, he would go along with the shrink’s plan, but that didn’t mean he had to give up control.
“Dude, I appreciate the concern and you coming by to wish me Merry Christmas.” He set aside his mug, using a magazine as a coaster. “Now you can leave. This is how I want to spend my day off. I told you that yesterday. Don’t you have somewhere to be for lunch?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Wyatt smiled in a way he hadn’t for a long time. Not since his divorce. “I told Lacey I wouldn’t come back without you.”
“Your promise is not my problem. I’m not up for eggnog and ‘Deck the Halls.’”
“Then I guess I’m not going to Lacey’s because I can’t leave you alone on Christmas.” He extended a hand. “Pass me a Pop-Tart. I’m starving.”
“That’s emotional blackmail, cousin.” And it was pinching at his conscience. “I’ll toss you out, if I have to. Trust me, I can.”
“I believe you. I learned that one the hard way when you hit that growth spurt at fifteen and kicked my ass at the family football game.” His smile faded, and he jammed his hands into the pockets of his thick flannel jacket. “Holidays are about family, which means they’re still tough for Lacey. She wants you there, so do me a favor. At least put in an appearance. You’ll just be right next door, and there’s going to be quite a crowd, easy to duck out early once you’ve made an appearance.”
AJ saw the defeat coming even as he put up a token fight. “I don’t have any gifts or food. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Do you have beer?”
He snorted. “I’m a bachelor.”
“Bring the beer. Now hurry up and get dressed.” Wyatt clapped him on the shoulder. “You can be the one to deliver the good news to Mary Hannah if she hasn’t heard already.”
“Good news?”
“The woman we arrested at the cabin spilled her guts this morning. Apparently being locked up at Christmas made her sentimental enough to want to go home faster. She provided documentation that the dogs are hers, including some vet records on the adult animals, and she’s signed them all over to Animal Control.”
“Vet records?”
“A traveling vet. The guy’s shady, but the rabies vaccinations appear legit. A lucky break actually, since so many of the animals that land at the shelter aren’t current on even their rabies shots. Provided the meth-house dogs pass their temperament test, they’re free to go to a rescue. It’s like some kind of Christmas miracle.”
“I gotta agree. It’s sure not the turnout I expected. That’s great news.” Provided they passed. Provided the boxer passed the test. He wasn’t more than cautiously optimistic. “I might have rolled out of bed faster if you’d led with that.”
“Good point.” Wyatt put his mug in the sink. “I was working up to the next part. A suggestion.”
Ah, so now they’d gotten to the real reason Wyatt had thought he would balk. “And?”
“If you work with Mary Hannah after work and on days off training a dog—maybe one of those from yesterday’s seizure—you could enter it in that big fund-raising event this February.”
AJ picked up his mug and turned it round and round.
“She trains therapy dogs for PTSD patients, and as I understand it, that’s a long process.”
Not to mention he didn’t have PTSD. What the hell kind of suggestion was this?
“She also trains emotional-support animals for people who are stressed. There’s less time involved. Think about it, because I’m trying to help you. This would be enough to get the captain off your back and maybe even skip visits to the shrink altogether.”
“Why am I not hearing this from the captain?”
“He’s giving you this chance to keep it unofficial, off the record. That’s a gift and you know it.”
AJ couldn’t argue with that, so he picked up his coffee and downed the rest before speaking. “If I don’t do what you ask, I’m gone?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. But you can’t simply wish this away. Don’t say no out of some knee-jerk reaction.”
AJ scratched his bristly jaw. Even if his cousin had his best interests at heart, he didn’t like being maneuvered this way. “You’ve taken Machiavellian matchmaking to a whole new level.”
“You can’t deny this helps your situation at the station, and as for the matchmaking, no one’s forcing you to ask the woman out. You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it. Talk to Mary Hannah after lunch.” Wyatt nodded once, before backing toward the door. “I’m off. I’ll see you next door in a half hour. Don’t forget the beer.” He slid back out the door as silently as he’d entered.
AJ ate the last bite of Pop-Tart, watching his cousin pick his way through the snow to the house next door. A line of cars was parked haphazardly by the McDaniel house and barn. The barn with a studio apartment. Mary Hannah’s apartment.
Of course she wouldn’t be the only one there. The Christmas celebration would be crowded with family and rescue workers. Wyatt had a point that he didn’t have to participate in the matchmaking. There were plenty of other people to exchange Christmas cheer with. He could eat and leave.
Except with that dream of being with Mary Hannah still fresh in his memory, he couldn’t deny the truth. He wouldn’t be able to resist—the Christmas dinner invitation or the dog-training proposition with her. This attraction to her wasn’t letting up. He’d been drawn from the start, but ignoring it for five months hadn’t helped one damn bit. He wanted her.
Better to take a more proactive approach and spend time with her. At his instigation. On his terms. Provided he could persuade her to put up with him while they trained a dog.
The thought of sparring with Mary Hannah again should
n’t turn him inside out this much. She was still a prissy pain in the ass who would probably take one look at his bachelor pad and run screaming for a bucket of bleach.
But he’d witnessed a grit to her yesterday that had impressed the hell out of him. Seeing her tender heart later at the shelter? That moved him. She was relaxed around the animals. Less paisley . . . more mess.
The notion of Mary Hannah messy, disheveled from his hands in her hair, had him walking to shower all the faster. He just had to bide his time to find the right moment to get her alone and launch his campaign.
Seven
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 h
all 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.”
Rescue Me Page 8
