Rescue Me

by Catherine Mann

  “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.

  “You need to be a very good girl today for your test, okay? Listen carefully. Don’t gobble the food or guard your bowl. And when they put a plastic hand in your dish, don’t bite.”

  She tossed in another cookie as if she knew I’d been too scared to eat the kibble the tech brought that morning. As if she knew this would help level the playing field when they did their food test.

  “Be sure to share your doggie toys, okay?” she continued even though I didn’t know what doggie toys were. “They’re going to handle you, but be patient. It would be nice if you could wag your tail and let people pet you. And above all, please don’t try to bite anyone because this temperament test is really important, sweetie.”

  That was when I realized the day had come for my temperament test. Even with all the game-show help and her tips, I wasn’t sure what that meant or what was expected of me.

  One of the staff came to get me out of my kennel, a person in a uniform. “Ms. Gallo, it’s time. You can watch with your friend through the window.”

  She touched the wiry man’s arm. “Thanks, Owen. I appreciate your letting me visit with her first.”

  Mary Hannah passed the container of cookies to one of the other kennel techs to share with the rest of the dogs, then followed us down the hall. She whispered words I realized later were prayers.

  We passed two other techs walking dogs back to the kennel runs, all of us on leashes and carefully kept apart. But I caught a hint of their stories. A beagle hung his head sniffing the ground, wondering how he’d gotten off track from his people. He’d just slipped out the front door for a quick run to check out a turkey smoker down the road. Would his people look for him?

  A Weimaraner struggled against the leash, pent-up energy making her frantic. She’d been left alone for Christmas break with a doggie door. The neighbor came by to feed her once a day, but she got bored and jumped the fence.

  I made a mental note not to jump a fence—if I ever got one of my own.

  Owen took me into a room with a couple of chairs, a blanket on the floor and a box, while Mary Hannah stayed out in the hall looking through a window with her policeman friend. I couldn’t see what was inside the box, but I smelled treats. I would have been tempted to chew my way through the box for those treats, but with those cookies in my stomach, I could control myself.

  That Mary Hannah was a smart lady.

  Two people tested me—all of us, in fact. I didn’t know then we were getting special attention, but apparently the director of Animal Control had taken extra interest in those of us from the meth house. At first, she just watched the test.

  A kennel tech—the guy named Owen who had gotten me out of my kennel run—put down a bowl of food for me. Canned food. I’d never seen that before, and wow, it was tempting. Since this was a test, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, so I didn’t touch it. Not at first. Owen nudged it closer and waited until I took a nibble and then—you won’t believe this—just like Mary Hannah said, he brought out a fake hand attached to the end of a stick. That hand poked into the food again and again.

  But I was scared of hands in those days. So I sat back. The hand moved away, and I ate again. We did that ritual for a while. A funny game really, but apparently that was okay because they didn’t take the food away or stop the test.

  Once the food was all gone, Owen petted me and I held still, just like Mary Hannah told me to. Although apparently I didn’t do as well with that part of the test. They said I didn’t “relax” into the stroke. I didn’t welcome the touch, but since I didn’t growl, I didn’t fail.

  The director—Ms. Taylor—stepped away from the door, coming closer to kneel beside me. Then slowly she reached for my paw. I didn’t like being held that way, but she was persistent. She kept it up, too, with my other paws, even at one point hugging me and rolling me onto my back, which I absolutely did not like at all. But I still didn’t growl and I didn’t bite.

  I never bit.

  She let me go and I shuddered with relief. She made notes on the clipboard and had Owen sign at the bottom before she walked to open the door. “Mary Hannah, she passed.”

  Mary Hannah smiled so widely I knew I’d more than passed. “That’s great, Dahlia. Better than great.”

  “I’m glad you’re taking her, though, because even passing, there’s no way she would get adopted here. She would stay curled up in that kennel run, terrified, which doesn’t do much
to entice people as they walk by. She needs serious socializing.”

  “I understand she needs socializing, love, training, patience. But first, she needs a name.”

  “She’s yours now. Feel free to choose.”

  Mary Hannah tipped her head to the side. “Something to do with Christmas since that’s when her new life started. Something like . . .” She leaned and wrote on the paper, my test. “There. It’s official.”

  And that’s how I finally had one name, sweetly spoken with love in a moment that changed my life forever. I had a long way to go, but finally, I had someone who cared. Someone who thought of me as more than Fat Mama, Bitch, Dumbass, Confiscate #8 or Shelter #S75230.

  Finally, I mattered. Me. An individual being, not just a baby-making machine. And finally, I can introduce myself to you.

  Hello, my name is Holly.

  * * *

  AJ HAD BEEN to the county shelter on more than one occasion, but never with such an insider’s view of what a temperament test entailed.

  He’d been allowed to watch through a window, standing beside Mary Hannah. He could swear she’d barely breathed through the process. He’d held her hand, and she hadn’t objected. Although the hand-holding wasn’t sexual. But it was progress in another way. A new connection.

  He wasn’t in a hurry to push for more just yet. He’d won a huge victory in getting her to agree to work with him training a dog. He was curious which of the animals would be chosen for their training project, and yeah, he hoped it could be Holly even though he felt bad for all the animals seized from that hellhole.

  The poodles and schnauzers had been clipped of the larger mats for comfort, but they still needed baths and professional grooming. They’d passed their temperament tests, too, but he didn’t consider himself much of a little-dog guy. Not that he was going to get a choice here. Mary Hannah might choose one of those froufrou pups just to get back at him.