She ran her fingers though his long blonde locks, pulled his mouth down to hers. “Haven’t you figured out by now, my evil plan is to leave you wanting me until you can’t think straight?”
He crushed his mouth to hers. Instant lust spiked. The belly hungered for so much more.
“I’m pretty sure that evil plan needs revising.” He moved kisses over her jaw and let out a low growl. “I know, I know. We’re waiting for me to get my head on straight.”
“That and for you to move past Cassie.”
“Same thing, honey.” He tucked a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. “Look, why don’t you plan to come out to the farm tomorrow night for dinner. I’ll beg Jordan for some of her infamous cuisine and we’ll see how it goes from there.”
She figured after the session with the psychiatrist he would need another sounding board. Well, it was a start at getting him to open up about the emotions that had to be bombarding his brain right now.
“Okay, it’s a date.”
“Our third.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “The history of the third date is a classic for a reason.”
She actually giggled. “You’re a funny guy, you know that, Cord?”
“So I’ve been told.”
She watched him straddle the Harley, rev up the engine. And watched him drive off with a bit of an attitude—and knew instantly the reason why.
Cord Bennett already looked like he was sweating bullets about his appointment tomorrow with the therapist.
Chapter Eleven
Monday morning staff shortages and another injured, beat-up pelican brought in from a man who lived south of town and who had found the bird along the roadway, kept Keegan hopping. Plus, she had preparations to make for the busload of school children due to arrive that afternoon for a field trip.
Porter Fanning had always been a fanatic about the welfare of the animals. He believed half the battle was educating the public. Whether bird or mammal, it was never too early for show and tell and to get kids interested in preserving wildlife.
Because of that, she particularly loved it whenever she got an opportunity to show off, not just the center or the animals, or the state-of-the-art hospital, but her staff as well.
Their number might be few, but those she had were passionate about animals. She couldn’t ask for more than that.
There were, however, precautions to take to make sure the two hours the kids spent on the premises went smoothly and any safety issues had been dealt with properly before the children ever stepped off the bus.
When she spotted Pete, she all but did a happy dance down the middle of the compound. “Thank God, reinforcements!”
“What’s up?”
“We’re slowly reaching capacity.” She gave him a quick rundown on the patients, and brought him up to speed on Minnie, the pregnant otter. “My guess is we’ll have a new baby before the week is out. That means we need to transfer her to the tide pool. Today.”
The tide pool was the closest thing to their native environment that the rescue center could offer the mammals, mimicking what they had in the wild.
In this case, much like the hospital, Porter Fanning had spared no expense. Spanning fifteen feet across and thirty feet in length, the rounded enclosure had steep rock formations on the sides complete with a railing and a glass enclosed observation deck for viewing.
But now, she watched Pete scratch at the thinning hair on his head. He always liked to give her a hard time about her go-team enthusiasm, and today was no exception.
“I’m gone two days and miss all the fun, or rather Keegan’s idea of fun. I swear you get that zest for this place just like Porter and Mary did. The center changes day to day and you seem to be the only one that can keep up with all of it.”
Since they were about the same height, she dangled an arm off his shoulder. “You always say that. And you know I’ve got great people around me who make it all come together. You’re one of those.”
“When they show up. They’re volunteers, Keegan. You need to find more go-getters like Abby.”
“Come on, Pete. Don’t drag me down this morning. We haven’t had a baby sea otter born here in more than four years. Minnie’s time is close. And you spend ten minutes with Sam, I guarantee it’ll bring you out of that mood you’re in. Wasn’t Betty cooperative this weekend?”
“Woman wants to get married. To me!”
Keegan laughed outright. “The nerve of some women. What is she thinking to want marriage from you?” But Pete was too far gone to see the sarcasm or humor in her words.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“So you had a fight with Betty and want sympathy from me. Nope. Not gonna happen.” When she saw Pete’s genuine deer-in-the-headlights look, she softened a little. “You gotta leave your past behind at some point, Pete. Do you care for Betty?”
“Sure I do. But marriage, Keegan? The last time…I don’t want to talk about it. Betty yapped at me all last night enough for two people. Just tell me where you want me to start. I need something to do.”
“I want you to keep an eye on Minnie and then go spend some time with the baby seal.”
“Shoot. I guess with the baby seal we’ll be opening fish school before long.”
Fish school meant they had to teach the babies how to recognize and catch their own supper, eat what they caught because otherwise the mammals didn’t have a clue how to do it because mama wasn’t around to instruct them in the art of survival. If not for fish school they would never make it back in the ocean.
“Most definitely,” Keegan agreed as she walked Pete to where Minnie played in her own pen. “But as soon as Russell gets in she goes to the tide pool. Abby’s in the main building occupied with the sick and injured.”
“I thought Abby worked all weekend. She usually gets Mondays off. See this is what I’m talking about. What happened to Tina?”
Tina Drayton was another volunteer from Scotts Valley. “Tina had car trouble. But she’ll be in before the field trip gets here. And you know Abby. Russ calls in late so she foregoes her day off to come in, knowing we have a busy Monday ahead.”
Pete shook his head. “You really need to talk to Russell. What’s his deal now?”
Keegan rolled her eyes. “Apparently he has girlfriend issues this morning.”
Russell Dennis was a retired, tattooed, former merchant marine, a great addition to the staff of volunteers but around town he had a reputation as a major ladies’ man, even though the guy was pushing fifty.
“What you mean is Russ sweet-talked some gal he met at McCready’s last night into hitting the sheets with him but come this morning he couldn’t get her ass out the door fast enough and had to call in late.”
Keegan laughed. “That pretty much sums it up.”
“Mark my word, one day that guy’s gonna mess with the wrong woman.”
“Did you really threaten Cord if he hurt me? We only just met Friday night under very unique circumstances.”
Pete gave her a withering stare. “Yeah. Right. You gonna stand there and tell me you guys aren’t moving faster than a runaway freight train. It’s all over town. And yeah, I thought it was the proper thing to do and all by telling him straight out, like it is. Your granddad would’ve wanted it that way. Know what else? He’d have been proud of me, too.”
Pete rubbed the stubble on his chin just thinking about yesterday at the church. “The boy went white as a stick a chalk when I mentioned I’d string him up by his balls.”
“Ouch! I’d be sorely disappointed if he didn’t. Threaten harm to the balls and we’re talking a serious reaction from a male every time.”
“Now the male knows what happens if he gets stupid. It’s only fair.”
She leaned over and gave Pete a peck on the cheek. “But you’re his sponsor. You’re supposed to be supportive and make sure he stays on the straight and narrow.”
“That’s right. And I’ll do everything possible to make sure that happens. But when it comes
to you, you’re my first priority.”
“Aww, Pete.” She patted the bald spot on his head. “I love you, too.”
Cord had his own Monday morning problems at the farm. One of the workers cut his hand on a fence rail and had to be transported to Doc Prescott’s for stitches. The wrapping machine malfunctioned in the packing house and shut down production for two hours before Marty had it fixed.
Cord started to worry about getting to Santa Cruz on time and being late for his appointment. But after handing out the payroll checks, he borrowed one of the farm trucks and headed to his fifty-minute session with Dr. Tony Pontadera with time to spare.
It turned out Tony wasn’t male at all, but rather a curvaceous, raven-haired, forty-six-year-old single mother who spelled Toni with an i.
Toni Pontadera was in the process of raising two sully teens. Both boys seemed determined to test, not only every inch of a mother’s patience, but her vast knowledge of the mental health profession as well. Her kids had always been her priority. But sometimes her thriving private practice had to take top billing.
Such was the case this morning when neither boy wanted to get up and go to class. She’d had to get tough. She’d reminded them both she had a new patient onboard, which meant she could not be late. Her sons giving her grief today was not an option. The life of a career-minded, single mom was rarely a walk in the park.
In her twenty years in the business of therapy though, Toni Pontadera had seen her fair share of PTSD victims. It was her specialty. She’d been treating victims suffering with the disorder as old as seventy who had dealt with the horrors they had experienced in Vietnam to victims as young as fifteen, a girl who’d been snatched off the street not five miles from her office door.
Anyone exposed to psychological trauma might experience flashbacks, depression, anxiety, anger, fear, or have problems with various addictions including alcohol, drugs, or sex. All exhibited an inability to cope with what had caused them pain in the first place.
With a certain professional curiosity she used to size up all of her new cases, she eyed Cord Bennett over the folder and the data sheet he’d filled out.
Despite the man’s David Beckham facial features, she detected an intense set to his jaw, not to mention the “I want to be anywhere else look.”
As she always did, she perused the info Cord had provided and then asked the usual background questions.
The yes or no answers she got were fairly typical from a reluctant man who did not want to be sitting in front of her answering what he considered dumb questions about a very sticky problem.
But when she looked into his eyes, she saw real uneasiness.
And because she was a no-nonsense type woman, the eyes got her attention. “You survived a spree shooting where you lost the woman you loved just eighteen months earlier, is that correct, Mr. Bennett?”
“Yeah.”
She noted his leg bouncing up and down nervously and stated, “You’re very anxious today, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I don’t really want to be here.”
A laugh snuck out in spite of the seriousness of the topic and the professional demeanor Toni so wanted to convey. “No kidding. But Mr. Bennett surely you understand that jumping in the ocean with the intent of drowning isn’t exactly normal behavior, is it? Not only that, but the same night you were arrested for public intoxication and in possession of a weapon. You understand that’s a huge red flag for law enforcement, for the people who care about you, those who are worried about you, right?”
“Yes.”
“Friday, the night you decided to act on your depressed state, you had been drinking heavily?”
This time he simply nodded.
She sighed, getting patients to talk initially was always a challenge, some more than others. “Our sessions are only fifty minutes long, Mr. Bennett. Where would you like to start? Perhaps back at the beginning?”
Cord huffed out a ragged breath, rested his hands on his jiggling thighs and admitted, “I don’t know where to start. I’ve been messed up for so long, I’ve lost me, the way I used to feel, the way I used to approach doing things. I’m not me. It isn’t like me to give up on anything, but without Cassie, I’ve felt…lost.”
Toni nodded and softly prompted, “Tell me about that day.”
For the next thirty minutes, Toni listened as Cord went over every detail leading up to his wedding day. Even though he described the events that morning when it came to the actual time and place of the shooting…he faltered. He recalled how hung over he’d been from the rehearsal dinner the night before, how badly he’d felt out of sorts at the church.
And then he blurted out, “Maybe if I hadn’t had so much to drink the night before—I might’ve been able to react quicker, wrestle the gun away from the son of a bitch, stop him from firing so many rounds—something.”
“I see. Do you think that’s realistic? That you could have stopped the shooter? With your military training do you think that was logistically and tactically possible from where you were standing at the altar? How many steps were you from where Cassie stood with her father, Mr. Bennett? Was it feasible for you to run all the way to the back of the church to lunge for the gunman?”
At that moment, the timer dinged signaling their session was over.
“Okay, we’ll leave it right there for now. But you might consider your answer because we’ll pick up right here on Thursday. You do realize the court scheduled twice weekly visits, don’t you? We can always add to the ten sessions once we get a feel for how it’s going.”
“Yeah, twice a week for five weeks, I know.”
“Are you sleeping well, Mr. Bennett?”
“Sometimes, sometimes not.”
But when she reached for her prescription pad, Cord shook his head. “No pills. You realize I have a problem with alcohol? I’m battling two fronts here, doc. Depression and the need to drink so I don’t think about Cassie, about that day.”
“Ah, yes, it’s in the file. I could start you on sertraline, fifty milligrams.” When he simply stared at her, she clarified, “It’s generic for Zoloft—for the depression—and very affordable. Even though I see you have a very good insurance plan, I think sertraline is a good place to start. If it doesn’t work there are a dozen other drugs we can try.”
“I guess. Is it effective against depression?”
“Very. It does have some side effects though.”
“Like what?”
“Some patients report headaches, nervousness at first until the brain gets used to the drug.”
“You mean the chemical?”
“That’s right.” And because this patient was thirty-four years old, she thought he deserved to know. “And some have reported a drop in their libido.” She ripped off the paper from the pad and handed him the prescription.
Terrific, he thought as he took the piece of paper, stared at it. “That’s a lot of damned side effects, all of which sound a lot worse than what I’m dealing with now.”
“Depression is not something to ignore, Mr. Bennett. And had you not jumped into the ocean, had you not been carrying a weapon, I wouldn’t even think about prescribing you antidepressants. But since we can’t change either one of those events, I’ll see you on Thursday at one o’clock. Now scoot.”
The minute Cord got outside and walked to the truck he’d driven in from the farm, he almost collapsed next to it.
He’d survived the first appointment.
Talking about that day always brought pain and anger to the forefront at the senseless deaths he’d witnessed firsthand. Lives had been lost that day, not just Cassie’s, but her father, her maid of honor, one of her cousins, and two of their guests, all on Cassie’s side of the family, of course.
Cord had lost no family that day because he had none. Only Cassie. Cassie had been the only person he’d ever considered his family.
And look how that had turned out?
The
tragedy should never have happened. If he’d acted sooner, done something about Robby before their wedding day…
He scrubbed a hand down his face.
Dr. Pontadera’s question hung in the back of his head as he slid behind the wheel. Could he have reached Robbie Mack in time that day to prevent all of it from happening?
He raked shaky fingers through his hair. Not likely, he thought now. Not likely at all. He might not be a brilliant man with a college education, but he was smart enough to know Robby Stevens had been standing too far away to have done anything at all, except stand there and watch as the son of a bitch shot seventeen people that day, killing six. He could see that now. Why hadn’t he been able to see that before today?
It seemed incredibly stupid to have put the blame on anyone other than Robby Mack. For months now he hadn’t been able to see that. It wasn’t like him not to be able to sort through a problem and deal with the solution. But for the past year and a half, he’d had difficulty with the outcome.
And now, he realized he’d had no control over the entire incident.
He had to admit talking to the shrink hadn’t been as bad as he’d imagined. He’d done his best to follow Keegan’s advice and think of it as a casual exchange of his story, stranger to stranger. Once he got going, for the most part, it had worked.
He turned the key in the ignition, deciding almost immediately he needed to call Keegan and tell her the deets on how the visit had gone. But if he called now what would he have to talk about later when she came to dinner?
That hadn’t been a problem Saturday night or for that matter last night. Their time spent together had been chock full of interesting conversation, a lot more than a “one night get to know you” session. In fact, he hadn’t wanted it to end.
And if he knew anything about women, Keegan had been reluctant for him to leave, too.
He wanted her in spite of all the reasons it was a bad idea. He had no business getting involved with anyone right now.
And what about taking the antidepressants? Did he really want to travel down that road? Did he even need the meds? He certainly didn’t want to start taking anything that slammed his libido, not when he wanted to take Keegan to bed.
Dancing Tides Page 14
