Rescue Me

by Catherine Mann

  Yes, she suspected he loved her in spite of her efforts to keep him at arm’s length emotionally for weeks now. She’d been running scared from the truth. Maybe Francesca had known long before she did that AJ was the right man for her. She was learning she didn’t need to maintain rigid control to make good decisions. She could relax sometimes and trust her gut to still make a good choice.

  She loved him, too.

  She felt a tug on her hand and realized Henry was pulling her.

  “We’re s’posed to go now,” he explained like a little pro.

  She winked, walking with him down the steps and back through the huge doghouse door, followed by the rest of the contestants. The sound system blared a recording of Billy Brock’s “Second Chances,” the words about healing sinking into her with each step.

  Once they were backstage, Henry squealed with excitement and knelt to hug his dog. “We did it! Me and my dad and Barkley, we all won, Mom.”

  “Yes, we did, sweetie.” Callie looked over his head at Mary Hannah, her eyes sheened with tears as she mouthed, Thank you.

  Callie had already agreed to check into rehab tomorrow. They didn’t know it yet, but Billy Brock was paying for her stay in the same exclusive clinic where Mary Hannah had met Billy’s daughter. Life had dealt the Roberts family unimaginable blows, but they were on the road to recovery. They had friends and allies to be sure they came through all the hardships.

  Mary Hannah wished her ex-husband could have been as forgiving as Declan. As understanding as Billy Brock. Seeing these broken people come together to hold a hand out to one another filled her with hope for their futures—and hers. For so long, she’d told herself she hadn’t deserved her ex-husband’s forgiveness or support through her time in rehab. But maybe she had. Despite wishing he’d forgiven her, she knew he wasn’t the right man for her.

  What’s more, maybe it was time to forgive herself. AJ had been quietly encouraging her to do just that for weeks now. But she’d been too stubborn to see it.

  It was time to accept her second chance at life with a man she loved more than she’d ever imagined possible.

  * * *

  AJ PULLED UP to his cabin, the headlights shining on Mary Hannah sitting on his front steps, despite the cold and the snow. Their time had finally come to talk. He just hoped she didn’t plan to say good-bye.

  But even if she did, he intended to fight for her the way her ex hadn’t. AJ wasn’t going to let this amazing woman slip through his fingers.

  He loved her. It was just that simple and that complicated. Perfectly Mary Hannah. He just had to find the right words. He stepped out of his vehicle, Holly following him with her honorable mention medal still attached to her collar.

  His boots crunched in the snow as he closed the space between them. “Congratulations on your big win for the Roberts family and the rescue.”

  The Second Chance Ranch had raked in big winnings and well-deserved recognition. There would be enough money and support for the free-roaming cat shelter and expanded office space. The other animals they’d taken to the event all had adoption applications pending, with more people interested in adding a Second Chance pet to their family.

  And Mary Hannah had played a huge role in making that happen. He was so damn proud of her.

  “It was a team effort,” she said simply. “Let’s stay outside and give Holly some time to run.”

  “I’d like that and so would she.” He unclipped the leash and freed the dog to race around the fenced area, her galloping paws sending chunks of snow flying behind her. Finally, he had Mary Hannah to himself, and he didn’t have a clue what to say.

  She walked alongside him, her hands stuffed in her coat pockets. “I’ve done the most unexpected, illogical thing, so prepare yourself.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  She stepped in front of him, stopping so they stood face-to-face in the moonlight. “I’ve fallen absolutely in love with you.”

  He blinked in shock. She had surprised him. Utterly. But happily. His hands cupped her shoulders. “Mary Hannah, I—”

  She kissed him quiet then eased back a whisper. “I have more that I need to say. I’m not sure exactly how or why, and I always know the ‘why’ of everything. I don’t even have your birthday in my planner. But I am absolutely certain I want to write it there with five stars alongside the date.”

  “Five stars?” he asked, looping his arms around her waist, hardly daring to believe his luck. He’d been so certain she wouldn’t be able to see beyond the pain of her past, the mess of his life in general. He’d underestimated her.

  Something he would never do again.

  “Five stars,” she explained, “means that’s the most important birthday.”

  He pulled her closer, a laugh sweeping aside the shards of pain that had lingered inside him from his day at the station. “You rate birthdays by the level of importance in your life?”

  “Acquaintance, one star. Friend, two. Close friend, three. Family, four. And you”—she nipped his bottom lip—“are in a class all of your own.”

  He slid one hand up to cradle the back of her head, her long hair tangling around his gloved fingers. “I am so very glad to hear that because I love you, too. So much more than I ever imagined possible. Which is strange as hell, because I thought I was in love in the past. Now I know all my life was just building up to this moment where I was worthy of you.”

  Her brown eyes glistened with starlight and maybe a hint of tears. “Don’t put me on a pedestal. It hurts so damn much when I fall off.” She cupped his face in her mittened hands. “And I will. I have my flaws like anyone else.”

  “And I love you all the more for them, as I hope you’ll keep right on loving me in spite of mine.”

  “Absolutely, for the rest of my life.”

  She arched up to press her mouth to his, kissing him, and God how he enjoyed kissing her back without fearing each time would be the last. She was his, and he was hers. Forever.

  He pulled her closer, the feel of her rocking the ground under his feet. The heat between them protected them from the winter chill.

  Holly barked, jolting him back to the present a second before she plowed right into them, knocking them onto a snowbank. Then the boxer rolled onto her back in a way AJ had come to realize was her own happy dance.

  He rubbed Holly’s belly. “Good girl, Holly, good girl.”

  “We owe her extra treats for life for bringing us together.” Mary Hannah rubbed the boxer’s ears. “Do you think she knew what she was doing?”

  AJ looked into Holly’s brown eyes, then up to Mary Hannah’s. “I’m absolutely certain.”

  Epilogue

  Saying yes to the dress is easy once you’ve found the right guy.

  —HOLLY

  A YEAR AND A half has passed since the My Furry Valentine Mutt Makeover, and a lot has happened to me and the Second Chance Ranch crowd. But one of the most life-changing events of all?

  I sleep on a real bed now.

  Absolute bliss.

  AJ and Mary Hannah’s bed is nothing like the stinky mattresses on the floor in my old home in the meth house. They have something called a pillow top. It’s so high up off the floor I have to jump.

  Well, eventually, I jumped, thanks to the tutoring I received from Mary Hannah’s cat, Siggy. But the first few times when they patted the foot of the bed for me to join them, I just turned and went back to my big paisley dog cushion under the window and chewed on a remote control.

  AJ likes to think he tricks me by buying new remotes without batteries so I won’t gnaw on the one that works with the television again. The truth of the matter is that I let him win. I’ve learned from watching AJ and Mary Hannah that a good relationship involves compromise.

  For example, AJ is messy. That hasn’t changed. He still leaves his fragrant shoes all
over the floor. Hiking boots. Work shoes. Sneakers. But Mary Hannah says that’s okay as long as they stay on his side of the room. Her side is as neat as a pin and happens to be the part folks see if they walk past the open door on their way down the hall of this fabulous new house.

  The summer after the Mutt Makeover, Mary Hannah and AJ got married, bought land near the Second Chance Ranch and built a home of their own to start a family. A big brick two-story with lots of rooms for children. One of those rooms already smells like fresh paint. Pink paint, with puppies and kittens and paw prints stenciled along the border.

  The baby is only six weeks old, though, so she sleeps in a bassinet in our room for now.

  Mary Hannah is rocking her little girl to sleep, nursing her and singing songs while I watch over them from the foot of the bed. I keep them safe. They’re my family.

  And our extended family is huge with all the Second Chance Ranch people and critters. I never knew there were so many good people in the world until AJ and Mary Hannah rescued me from that meth house. They say I rescued them, too. I like to think so.

  AJ walks into the room and kisses Mary Hannah before kneeling beside the rocker to kiss his daughter on the top of her head. “How are my three girls?”

  Isn’t that awesome how he always includes me in everything?

  Mary Hannah strokes the back of his neck. “We missed you today while you were at work.”

  “Missed you, too.” He kisses his wife again.

  They do that a lot.

  The baby just sleeps on. And by the way, her name is Abby. Named for her dad. Yes, believe it or not, the A in AJ stands for Abner. Even Mary Hannah didn’t know until they applied for a marriage license. Abner Zachary Parker Jr.

  She laughed hard when she learned that, then kissed him again. Like I told you, they do that. A lot.

  Mary Hannah eases her sleeping daughter from her breast and adjusts her nightgown. “How was work today?”

  “Good, even better than good since I have you to come home to.” He’d weathered the storm of controversy at the station when his cousin went to prison. AJ is more focused than ever on the job. There is even talk of him being sheriff one day.

  AJ holds out his arms for Abby, and Mary Hannah passes over the swaddled infant. He cradles his daughter with a devotion I understand well. Babies are a gift to be treasured. He walks with her to the bed and sits beside me on the pillow-top mattress made all the softer with a fat comforter. He lets me sniff the top of her head covered in fine dark hair. Abigail Mary Parker smells like baby shampoo and innocence.

  My new favorite scent.

  I even stole one of Abby’s tiny blankets out of the laundry and hid it under the bed for comfort during thunderstorms.

  Mary Hannah stands, arching her arms over her head in a languorous stretch. The scents change in the room. And I realize AJ is staring at his wife with that look.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he says softly, reverently even.

  He’s a smart man, that AJ.

  Mary Hannah’s arms swing down again. “All day long I’ve been fantasizing about us pulling out the massage oils and pampering each other. If you’re interested.”

  “I am most definitely interested,” he says without hesitation. “I’ll settle Abby in her bassinet while you find the oils.”

  That’s my cue to jump down and hang out on my old dog bed for a little while. They’ll let me back on the bed eventually.

  I turn in a circle three times, then shove my nose underneath the cushion to grab the remote in my mouth before lying down. I rest my head on my paws, close my eyes and savor the sweet smell of peppermint.

  Read on for an excerpt from another Second Chance Ranch novel by Catherine Mann

  SHELTER ME

  Available now from Berkley Sensation!

  SIERRA MCDANIEL HAD ordered a drug test for a whacked-out Pomeranian, then milked a nanny goat to bottle-feed a litter of motherless pit bull pups. And it wasn’t even noon yet.

  The Tennessee summer sun baked her hair faster than the professional highlights she couldn’t afford anyway. She checked the latches of each kennel run attached to her mom’s converted barn/animal rescue, complete with doggie doors and an air conditioner. Someone had tampered with the locks and let all the dogs out last week, torquing off their cranky neighbors even more.

  But then who wanted an animal rescue next door? Even if next door was an acre away on either side.

  She double-checked the detoxing Pomeranian sprawled on a puppy bed, looking loopy. The fur ball had bitten a teenager, and the cops had soon deduced the dog discovered a hidden bag of pot, started chowing down on the weed and objected when the outraged teen tried to recover his stash. Animal Control had called her mom’s rescue for the pup that Sierra now called Doobie even though his real name was Lucky.

  God, what she wouldn’t give to be a regular English Lit grad student at Vanderbilt, living in a crappy apartment with flea-market furniture. Rather than going to the local college and living in her childhood bedroom of pink ruffles and faded boy-band posters. What she wouldn’t give to have her dad come home today with his unit.

  But he wasn’t, and no amount of wishing could change that.

  She could, however, honor his memory by doing what he would want. So she spent every spare moment between summer classes and her grad assistantship duties pitching in at her mother’s Second Chance Ranch Animal Rescue. Not that her mom would ask for help with the rescue or her own job teaching online classes year-round. Even though Sierra saw the pain and struggle in her mother’s eyes, to the rest of the world Lacey was the ultimate independent military wife, giving all for her man. Holding down the home front. Raising Sierra and Nathan to be the perfect military brats.

  Oh, hey, and caring for Grandpa McDaniel while Alzheimer’s sucked him deeper into the quicksand of dementia.

  As if that wasn’t enough, Mom decided to save homeless and abused animals in all her free time, starting up a nonprofit rescue organization that didn’t pay a dime. The nanny goat—freshly milked—bleated in agreement from across the yard, bell clanking around her neck before she went back to chomping grass.

  Seriously, weren’t goats supposed to be gifts for third-world villages?

  Huffing her sweaty bangs off her brow, Sierra yanked open the door to the mudroom on their rambling white farmhouse and quickly slammed it closed behind her, muffling the din of barking to a dull roar. Checkered curtains on the door fluttered. Through the window, Tennessee fields stretched out as far as she could see, dotted with other homesteads. Her family only owned a couple of acres total, fenced in, but even still, half the neighbors complained.

  Some more vocally than others, threatening to file an injunction to shut the whole operation down at a county council meeting scheduled for next month. Another problem for another day.

  She scuffed the poop off her gym shoes once, twice, then gave up and ditched her sneakers in the sink. They landed on top of the black galoshes Lacey used for kennel work, sending their old calico kitty soaring away. Sierra eyed her own purple monkey rain boots with a stab of regret that she hadn’t tugged them on this morning.

  She padded into the kitchen to wash her hands and grab another cup of coffee before they had to leave for Fort Campbell. Not that an IV dose of straight caffeine would help her face what waited for them at the Army post when that planeload of returning troops landed. When Mike Kowalski landed with a living, breathing reminder of the father that hadn’t returned.

  Her chest went tight and she mentally recited William Butler Yeats to soothe herself. I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made—

  Footsteps thundered down the stairs, followed by the reverberation of General Gramps’s Army cadence marching across her ears seconds ahead of him entering the kitchen, overpowering her literary ramble.

  �
��They say that in the Army the coffee’s mighty fine . . .” Her silver-haired grandfather wore a smile and his old uniform, high-stepping his way to the gurgling java maker.

  He didn’t so much as shoot a look her way, but she knew the drill. Yeats was done for now. Gramps had his own “poems.” At least it was a clean one today.

  She repeated his chant like a good soldier. “They say that in the Army the coffee’s mighty fine.”

  They’d played this game for decades. Her life had been military issue from the cradle.

  “Looks like muddy water and tastes like turpentine.” He snagged a chipped mug from a mismatched set of crockery as he continued chanting his current Jody of choice.

  “Looks like muddy water and tastes like turpentine.”

  “They say that in the Army the chow is mighty fine.”

  “They say that in the Army the chow is mighty fine,” she echoed, childhood memories curling through her like the scent of Kona blend wafting from the pot as he poured.

  He lifted his mug in toast. “A chicken jumped off the table and started marking time.”

  “A chicken jumped off the table and started marking time.”

  “Hoo-ah!” her grandpa grunted.

  “Hoo-ah.” Happy times with Gramps were few and far between lately. Even if this moment ached as it reminded her of her dad, she could hang tough and enjoy a ritual of semi normalcy in the crazy house. “We need to leave in about fifteen minutes. I have to shower fast and change.”

  Preferably into something that didn’t smell of dog poop and goat’s milk. She washed her hands, double-pumping the antibacterial soap.

  Gramps opened a Tupperware container and scowled, the light mood fading fast. “Croissants? What is this? A fancy-ass French bakery or a real kitchen? I need a soldier’s breakfast.”

  So much for normalcy. He’d eaten breakfast three hours ago. Eggs, bacon and pancakes, with their family Labrador snoozing on his feet. Except reminding Gramps of that wouldn’t accomplish anything. Her grandfather, Joshua McDaniel, a two-star general and veteran of three wars, remembered less and less every day.