by Mae Nunn
Cullen yawned as he pulled onto the highway for the twenty-minute ride home. It was only a little after 9:00 p.m., but he was pooped from a roller-coaster ride of a Monday. Sleep had eluded him the night before and he’d been anxious all day over his first lecture of Blair’s class.
And rightly so. It had been a disaster.
“Rocket, a very smart man named Einstein once said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Tomorrow you’ve gotta help me figure out another way to approach Western Civilization. The mere fact that you’re in my car at this moment is proof that I’m capable of change when the situation demands it, so I’m bound to be able to make adjustments.”
Now that he considered it, the past few hours had called for a lot of flexibility and he’d done fairly well. He’d left the classroom without obsessing too much over his dreadful performance, made a whirlwind shopping effort for virtual strangers, bought dinner for a gaggle of girls and rescued a helpless critter from a pack of wolves. Well, maybe that last part was a bit extreme, but if Meg was willing to give him props he’d take them. Not that there had been any danger of him leaving the puppy on the street. He’d taken one look at the orphaned dog and sworn he would give him a secure, loving home.
“Rocket, my little buddy.” Cullen glanced at the weary, wide eyes behind him. “We’ve both had a tough break, losing our parents when we needed them most. Only a couple of people know this about me and now I’m going to tell you and trust that you’ll keep this between us.”
The dog yawned and settled his belly on the leather seat, but kept his eyes trained toward his new master.
“So, here’s the deal. I was diagnosed over a dozen years ago with post traumatic stress disorder. Dr. Dermer said my pounding heart and sweaty, shaky hands were symptoms of anxiety. I just called it the creeps when the attacks came on during my junior year in high school. I hated the hours I spent with my head under the covers praying for that sensation to go away. Whatever you label the condition, it was awful and I never want to revisit those days. So now I do everything I can to avoid getting overstressed. You’ll like our home. It’s a quiet oasis in a noisy world and I’ll do my best to make it a sanctuary for you, too.”
As soon as they got to the house Cullen began to make good on his promise. As he ran a warm, soapy bath for Rocket, he tuned the radio on the bathroom counter to a classic country channel. While the pup soaked and enjoyed the gentle massage, Cullen hummed along with the soft music he found so much more appealing than the hard rock his friends had preferred growing up. His daddy said it was “racket” and Cullen couldn’t disagree. In his college years he’d stayed away from the loud fraternity parties that were sure to set off his anxiety. So he kept the music low and comforting for himself as well as Rocket.
An hour later the puppy was towel-dried and fed and lay snuggled beside Cullen in the big sleigh bed. His nose was poked into his master’s armpit, as if burying his head and hiding his face would stave off night terrors. It was an attempt at self-soothing that Cullen knew well from many, many efforts of his own to sleep away the pain of loss.
Deep into the night, he suddenly woke to find Rocket kicking and whining in a way Alma would call “chasing rabbits.” As the thrashing became more frantic, the little dog’s cries grew into howls of despair that tore at Cullen’s heart.
“It’s okay, buddy.” He gave Rocket a little shake to ease him from his dreams.
Huge eyes stared upward, pleading for mercy from the man who was still a stranger. The pup shivered with fear of an unfamiliar place.
“I understand,” Cullen crooned as he stroked the long nose and silky ears. He scooped the animal close to his heart, kissed the head that smelled of shampoo and kibbles and wondered why it had never occurred to him that calming the worries of another creature could be so comforting.
He continued to stroke the puppy and the tremors through Rocket’s body grew less frequent and his breathing grew deeper. Cullen slipped his hand around the thin body and cupped the soft tummy.
“I’m gonna fatten you up so you forget what hunger feels like and love you so much that all you remember is being wanted. You won’t suffer through another night alone, not if I have anything to say about it.”
Cullen pulled the blanket close to warm his body and the puppy closer to warm his soul.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I REALLY APPRECIATE your time, Dr. Temple,” an attractive young woman thanked Cullen for answering her questions after class.
“It’s not necessary for you to be formal, Trish,” he insisted. “Call me Cullen.”
Sarah waited patiently off to the side and listened while several students engaged their handsome instructor with questions. Everything about this evening’s class had been so different from the first that Sarah had been compelled to stick around and compliment him. Evidently, others felt the same since a line had formed as soon as the lesson concluded.
“Well, I see you brought your ‘A’ game tonight,” Sarah teased once everyone else had gone.
“Nobody’s more amazed than I am,” Cullen admitted.
“How did you prepare differently this time?”
“I simply followed my mentor’s orders and applied the process that’s always worked for me.”
A relieved grin that would melt any woman’s heart spread across Cullen’s face. It was such an endearing sight, especially after the worry in his gray eyes a few days before.
“Blair had suggested that I study his notes and then reorganize them into my own words. I didn’t have the sense to heed his advice for the first class, and you saw how well that worked out for me. So this time around, instead of teaching directly from what he’d written, I reviewed the chapters and then, based on what I’d learned about the subject myself years ago, I just shot from the hip. When you’re dealing with ancient civilizations, there’s a pretty fair chance nothing’s changed much since you last checked the facts.”
“Well, you certainly bring the time period to life. I was watching the faces of your students and they were completely engaged.”
“When you have fellas like Charlemagne and Genghis Khan to work with you don’t have to dig too deep to find a story that will keep the listeners tuned in for ninety minutes.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Cullen. You’re vying with the sci-fi network, the Kardashians and Grand Theft Auto for the attention of these young people, and I’d say holding their focus for an hour and a half is quite an accomplishment. You’re a natural.”
“Aw, shucks, ma’am, ’tweren’t nothin’.” He lowered his chin in a show of false shyness. “You’ll blow an old country boy’s head up so big his Stetson won’t fit.”
“Just accept the compliment,” Sarah insisted as she gave Cullen’s bicep a light punch. Her knuckles connected with solid arm beneath the long sleeve he seemed to favor, even in the heat. The lightweight flannel obviously shielded a muscular build, and for some reason, Sarah was glad he wore modest clothing around all these young women. Whether or not it was by design, it was probably a smart defense against inappropriate attention.
“The bottom line, Dr. Temple, is you gave an excellent lecture and I can’t wait to dive into the Crusades with you this semester.”
“You, my dear, are a rare find indeed. Any student excited to spend her summer recalling bloody battles is a woman after my own heart.”
“Aw, shucks, sir,” she mirrored his silly comment and drawl. “You’ll turn a simple girl’s head with such purty words.”
“How about if you two take your mutual admiration society meeting outside so Merle can mop this floor?” a voice growled from the doorway.
“Evening, Miss Nancy!” Cullen called as he gathered his notes and shoved them into a well-worn backpack. “Sorry to hold up the operation. We’ll be out of here in three min
utes.”
“She’s still here?” Sarah asked. “Is she the night watchman, too?”
Cullen chuckled. “She and Merle have been keeping company for years, but he can’t join her for wine coolers and Skip-Bo until the floors are dry.”
Sarah shifted the carryall that contained the loaner textbook and her legal pads and walked alongside Cullen to the exit of the lecture room.
“How are things going with the puppy?”
“Rocket has been a revelation.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I expected he’d be a lot of trouble and under my feet constantly. Which he is, but in a nice way. I figured Alma would be disgusted to find rawhide chews and dog hair in my bed, but she just shook out my sheets and brushed off my favorite quilt without a complaint and sidestepped the water bowl on the bathroom floor.”
“Alma?” Sarah repeated the name carefully to cover the sinking in her spirit. Some woman was hanging out in her new friend’s bedroom and somehow that seemed wrong. “She shakes out your sheets, huh?”
Well, what do you expect at his age, Sarah Elizabeth, that he’s still an altar boy?
“Sorry. That didn’t exactly sound complimentary to the most important woman in my life, did it?”
“You’re a grown man and how you categorize a consenting relationship is your private business.”
“You’re right, Sarah. And after all these years I really should call her mi amorcito—Lord knows she’s earned the title of sweetheart.”
“Wait.” She halted their forward motion. “Who is this Alma to you?”
“She’s the woman who raised me and my three brothers when our parents were killed. She and her husband, Felix, stepped in and became our surrogate parents. They kept us on the straight and narrow to make sure none of us ended up in prison like our grandfather.”
“Your grandfather served time in prison?”
“That’s East Texas lore for another evening.” Cullen waved away the question. “I’ll be glad to share it with you over a glass of wine one night but Pap Temple’s story is old news that I’d rather not get into right this minute.”
The knowledge that Cullen’s grandfather had gone to prison took Sarah by surprise. She ought to do a little research or talk to her parents. Surely they’d remember the story of a man named Pap Temple if it was a part of the local history, as Cullen claimed.
“So, you were updating me on Rocket.”
Cullen’s exhausted smile said this was a more pleasant subject.
“The past two nights have been a challenge, but we’re managing. The poor little fella whimpers and kicks in his dreams, but I can survive a few weeks without REM sleep if lullabies and snuggles help him adjust. How could any man resist such a call to adventure.”
And how could any woman resist such a heartwarming image?
* * *
AS HE PUSHED the heavy security door open and held it wide for Sarah to exit the building, Cullen could only imagine what terrors might invade a puppy’s subconscious mind. But he had a sneaking suspicion they were akin to his own fears and hurts that had kept him from resting as a teen. Spooning Rocket close, rubbing his tummy and murmuring soft sounds every couple of hours seemed to give them both peace, and that was a fair trade for the whole pot of coffee he’d have to consume in the morning to keep himself awake.
“It was so kind of you to rescue that puppy, Cullen. You’re Hope’s new hero.”
“Speaking of your girls, how about bringing them to my house for a barbecue this weekend?”
A crease formed between her auburn brows as she answered. “You’re so kind to offer, and I’m tempted to accept. I’m just not sure that’s such a great idea.”
“What concerns you about a picnic?”
“How much time do you have?”
“As much as you want, my friend.”
They stepped out into the muggy evening that was still lit by the waning summer sun. He sunk down on a nearby marble bench and Sarah joined him.
Her blue eyes searched his face, maybe for a clue about how much to say.
“So talk,” he encouraged. The woman carried a lot on her slender shoulders and it didn’t come as a surprise that she had to consider emotional burdens carefully.
“Each of my girls is a needy mess.”
“Aren’t all kids?”
“By nature, yes. But losing their daddy and then our home—”
“Wait.” He placed a hand on the small of her back, the touch intended to be comforting and nothing more. “You lost your home?”
She nodded, a sad smile curving her lips.
“There was a mountain of medical bills and most of Joe’s life insurance went to cover that obligation. There was no chance I could manage the mortgage on my salary, so we sold the house and moved into an apartment. We’re comfortable, but there’s nothing cushy about our lifestyle.”
“From what I’ve observed, your girls are part of a loving family and that’s more valuable than stuff.”
“Thirty-somethings understand that, but try to explain to a tween that not owning an iPad builds character.”
“So how does that translate into a barbecue at Chez Cullen being a bad idea?”
“Oh, it’s a wonderful idea! I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”
“Then what?”
“That’s the question that worries me.”
Cullen scrunched his brow and exaggerated a squint to show his confusion.
“If we come for an afternoon, then what? My girls have all learned to compartmentalize their emotions, but it’s not been easy. One afternoon of fun at a male friend’s house could create expectations on their part. It’s not fair to ask you to deal with the fallout.”
He moved his hand from her back to her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“How about if you let me handle the fallout, as you call it. Growing up in a house with four rambunctious boys has made me fairly resilient.”
“I’m just warning you, young females are different animals. They think and react in unexpected ways.”
“So having three of them is sorta like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates?”
“Exactly,” she agreed.
“You never know what you’re gonna get,” they replied in unison.
He held up a three-fingered Boy Scout salute.
“I solemnly pledge to accept all responsibility for the outcome of a pool party.”
“That’s a grave oath you just made, Dr. Temple. When you say your prayers tonight you’d best ask for a special layer of protection for your life and property.”
“Come on,” he chided. “How much damage can little girls do?”
“And as long as you’re already on your knees, ask for protection for your heart, too.”
She was trying to make light of the situation, but she’d done her best to spell it out and give him fair warning. Well, he’d keep that in mind.
But for now he and Rocket had a barbecue to plan. He needed to test the waters, find out if he would sink or swim in a chaotic environment, even if he found he was already in over his head.
CHAPTER SIX
“WHAT ON EARTH was I thinking, Rocket?”
Cullen moved from room to room in a last-ditch effort to tidy up his cluttered home before his company arrived.
His brothers had been teasing him for years that his house looked like one of those ancient bookmobiles had pulled through the front door and exploded. Volumes of every conceivable genre and subject were crammed into shelves and stacked in corners. Each room in the rambling, ranch-style home smelled of printed words bound by glue, cardboard and stitching. The aroma was reverent to Cullen, something most people, and certainly his obnoxious brothers, would never understand.
Well, that wasn’t
entirely true. Hunt had displayed a love of cooking at an early age and the kitchen had long been his sanctuary. Their older brother Joiner loved all things equine. The inside of a barn, smelling of horse sweat and leather tack, was his place of solace. And then there was the oldest, McCarthy, a natural bean counter whose blood pressure was kept steady by frequent immersion in spreadsheets and 401(k) statements.
As much grief as they’d always given Cullen over his obsession for education, the four Temple brothers shared a bond when it came to having a passion. And each man’s passion seemed to come from deep inside and wouldn’t be snuffed out or denied.
Alma said their parents had been no different, and from Cullen’s earliest memories, he had to agree. Their father was a surgeon who’d given countless hours to the hospital and the community it served. And their mother had had an incredible green thumb and knack for growing things. The constant cycle of fertilizing, planting, nurturing, weeding, pruning and picking had been what she’d adored, second only to the five men in her family.
Yep, no doubt about it, they were all destined to obsess, just as their patriarch had once done over striking it rich in the East Texas oil fields. That thought reminded Cullen that he’d offered to tell Sarah about his grandfather. Maybe he’d get that chore over with today since it was best to let the old skeleton out of the closet early and be finished with him. Even so, being endowed with the Temple name in these parts would never completely allow Cullen to bury Pap’s notorious legacy.
“Anybody home?”
“In here,” Cullen shouted. Rocket growled, a sound too small and endearing to be threatening.
“Hey, little brother!” Joiner’s voice boomed from the front entryway.
“I’ve gotta start locking my door,” Cullen called from the den that served as his study.
“Yeah, as if anybody with a lick of sense would want to steal a stack of old books.”
Rocket scurried to investigate the newcomer, skidding to a stop as he was confronted by cowboy boots and jean-clad legs.
