In the morning, she’d found a note on the counter that he’d taken their dogs out for a run, but he would be back in time to pick up the transport dogs. She’d almost laughed at the predictability of his avoidance.
The front door of the shelter opened, sending a fresh pine wreath swaying. A man held the door open for his wife and daughter. The teenager cradled a fluffy bichon puppy against her chest.
Inside the shelter, the warmth wrapped around her like the feel of Alex’s leather jacket on a late-night beach walk. She glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes collided with his.
She swallowed hard and pushed words free. “This shouldn’t take long.”
“I’ve got nowhere else to be for the next two weeks.”
“We’ll be done long before that.” The double meaning hitched her breath.
But how could she build a marriage with a man who refused to meet her halfway in their life together? How could she build a marriage with a man who seemed to have forgotten all the dreams they once shared? A man who took every opportunity to cut and run, literally and emotionally?
She shifted her attention back to the present as they walked deeper into the reception area. What had once been the house’s living room was now divided by a waist-high counter. Two desks and several filing cabinets filled the larger space behind the counter. She waited with Alex on the other side. Sturdy wooden armchairs and a low table in the seating area were packed with people filling out paperwork. An overburdened coat tree stood in the corner.
Shelby waved at the bubbly receptionist who was popping candy cane bark into her mouth, one broken piece at a time.
“Hello, Faye, we’re here to pick up the three transport dogs.”
“Tansy already went with Cindy to get our lucky trio.” Standing, Faye pushed aside the display with info about a local TV fund-raiser and extended her hand. “And this must be your husband. Hello, Sergeant Conrad.”
“Alex,” he said simply, shaking her hand.
“Alex, then. Glad to finally meet you. We’ve had a running bet around here as to whether or not you were a ghost.”
At least he didn’t wince. “Nice to meet you, as well.”
Faye paged Tansy then lifted the gift box of peppermint chocolate candy from beside a small artificial tree sitting on the counter, an angel tree with ornaments listing donation needs. “Some peppermint bark? Dogs bark, get it? Woof woof.”
“Thanks.” Shelby popped a piece into her mouth since it seemed rude not to.
Faye filled the awkward silence. “Sorry for the wait. Things have been especially hectic around here since we picked up all those cats from the hoarding situation—”
Her ramble was cut short as Tansy Dexter walked briskly inside with two dogs on a leash, a teenage volunteer behind her carrying the third. Always approachable, Tansy wore jeans, gym shoes and a blue sweatshirt with a shelter logo on the front. She had curly black hair and an ever-ready smile. Shelby envied the ease with which Tansy approached life, the joy and calm that radiated from her to the animals she rescued.
Tansy held out the leashes. “Shelby, Alex, I can’t thank you both enough for this. Meet your charges. This is Trooper. We’re pretty sure he’s a beagle/basset mix, around two years old. Animal control picked him up wandering without a collar or microchip. He’s such a sweetie they called us with a hefty plea to take him in.”
She passed over the leash and Shelby dropped to her knees. The hound dog bayed once then swiped a doggie kiss on her cheek before she could blink. “What a loveable guy. I’ve been hearing good things about you, buddy.”
Tansy continued, gesturing to the teenager behind her. “This is Cindy. She’s helping out on her Christmas break since we’re a bit overwhelmed getting all the animals settled into foster homes for the holidays. She has Prince.”
The teenager in a long-sleeved concert tee carried a Pekingese. “Prince is eight years old.” She rested her cheek against his fur, her blond ponytail swishing forward. “His owner had to go into a nursing home and no one else in the family would take him.”
With a final quick kiss on top of Prince’s head, Cindy passed him over to Alex, who seemed totally underprepared for the fur ball thrust into his arms. Before Shelby could offer to hold Prince, Tansy passed her the other leash of a black Lab puppy.
“And this is Daisy.” Tansy’s brow furrowed, her eyes sad. “Daisy was brought in with her mother and the rest of her litter when she was only two days old. Daisy was the last of her litter, adopted at twelve weeks old, but her family returned her when she was five months. They said they didn’t have time for her. She really misses the family that gave up on her, and she hasn’t warmed up to anyone since. She’s been here almost four months this go-round.”
Shelby passed the beagle’s leash to Alex and focused her attention on the Lab puppy. Daisy was more interested in exploring under Faye’s desk than coming out for a belly rub. “We’ll work on winning her over.”
“You’ll do great—as always. You’ve got the Dr. Doolittle touch,” Tansy said. “It’ll translate well for us in the TV feature. Oh, which reminds me. The freelance camera guy, Gene Watts, will meet you at your house at eight tomorrow morning.”
Alex checked the office clock mounted on the wall and extended his hand for the other leash. “Shel, take the Peke and I’ll load up the bigger two while you finish with the paperwork.”
They swapped dogs, hands brushing, awareness snapping even through the gloves they still wore. She pulled away quickly, tucking Prince to her chest. Her eyes followed Alex as he nodded a quick farewell to Faye and Tansy before slipping out the door. And she couldn’t help thinking that he really was like a ghost, briefly drifting in and out of her life.
Tansy pulled three manila envelopes from under Faye’s box of peppermint bark. “These are the adoption papers and vet records for each dog. You know the drill. And thank you again, hon.”
“I wish I could do more.” She tucked the papers to her chest, holding them so tightly her parka crackled and Prince squirmed. “I’ll email you the details and post photos on Facebook from the road.”
“That would be super. Seeing the happily ever after helps us get through those heartbreak days.” Tansy grabbed a jacket from the behind the counter and followed Shelby out the door. “Are you okay, hon? Really?”
“Of course.” She paused in front of the building. “It’s the Christmas season.”
“But you’ll be spending it on the road when your husband just got home, and now Ben wants to send the cameraman with you, too.”
Shelby glanced over at her husband. He sat just inside the back of their Explorer with Trooper and Daisy. Guilt swamped her again at stealing his Christmas, but she had to believe this was their best chance at real closure. “You know things have been awkward between Alex and me. This trip is a blessing. Even the cameraman will be a welcome buffer, like the dogs.”
“Still, you two deserve to relax and celebrate his homecoming as well as the holidays.” She pushed her moppish curls from her face as the wind tore at them.
“We all do, but believe me, I’ll be celebrating when I have these three sweet dogs settled with their forever families.”
Prince snorted in agreement, his big tongue sweeping over his smooshed face.
“You deserve that happiness, too.”
“I’m happy.” Liar.
Tansy fished a dog biscuit from her jeans pocket and passed it to Prince. “Shelby, you know one of the things I like most about you? You’re an open book—but that also makes it impossible for you to hide when you’re fibbing.”
A car door slammed, pulling their attention to the parking lot again. A man hurried toward the Victorian building and Tansy straightened. “Gotta get back to work. That’s the guy who agreed to foster the St. Bernard mix puppy.”
“Good luck.” Shelby adjuste
d Prince in her arms and picked her way across the parking lot toward the Explorer.
Toward Alex.
A wave of nostalgia swept over her as she remembered the day they’d adopted Samson and Delilah seven and a half years ago. If Alex was a ghost today, he was the Ghost of Christmas Past, tempting her all over again by reminding her of how good they’d had it. It would be a long night in their house since their cameraman chaperone wasn’t coming until the morning. Shelby hoped he came early.
* * *
ALEX PARKED HIMSELF in front of the computer in his home office, mapping out the route for their drive around Washington State. As long as the weather cooperated, they would be finished with their deliveries and the cameraman could fly home to Tacoma by Christmas Eve. Then he and Shelby would arrive at her family’s house later that day, suffer through Christmas Day then hit the road to come home.
Just as Shelby had predicted, Samson and Delilah were fine with staying with the Bennetts. Apparently the dogs knew the family there better than they knew him, these days.
Now it was just him and Shelby in the house. Alone. He thought about his marriage and he didn’t have a clue what he could have done differently. There must be a missing cog in him that made him unable to put a family together. He’d tried, checking in on her during the fertility treatments, comforting her when they’d failed, although he’d never found the right thing to say and somehow always brought her to tears...which inevitably sent his mind racing back to the days when his mother had locked herself in her room, depressed and crying.
Rather than risk hurting Shelby again, he’d panicked and signed on for another deployment. At least then he could offer her space and more money. As things worsened between them, yeah, he’d hit the road for himself, too, for the escape as much as the paycheck, just as she’d accused him of doing. Emotional confrontations weren’t his gig.
But he was good at his job, damn good, and now it was all he had left. A sound from the door drew his attention. Shelby padded into the room, her fuzzy socks silent against the carpet. She carried a tray with sandwiches and steaming soup. Trooper and Prince trailed her. Daisy was probably still hiding out, being antisocial.
Alex took the tray from her and set it on the ottoman in front of the futon. “Thanks. You didn’t have to go to the trouble, though.”
“It’s just potato chowder.” She stuffed her hands into her jeans pockets. “I needed to use up the milk before we leave.”
He nodded to the pair of dogs on her heels. “Those two have been shadowing you since we left The Haven.”
“They’ve been through a lot of change.” She sat on the futon and patted the space beside her for both dogs to jump up. “Some separation anxiety isn’t unusual.”
“And Daisy? Where’s she?”
“Totally uninterested in having anything to do with me or the other dogs. She loped around the backyard on her own until she wore herself out.” Shelby tucked the Pekingese in her lap while scratching the beagle/basset’s floppy ears. “Now she’s sleeping under the coffee table with your gym shoes.”
“My Nikes?”
“Just joking. Sorta. You only lost a shoelace before I rescued your shoes.” She pointed to the computer. “What are you doing?”
“Mapping the route so we have a backup if bad weather puts the GPS on the fritz.” He held up a folder of maps and contingency plans in case of closed roads.
“You sound like my dad. Always with plan A, B and C.”
“No need to go for the jugular.” He scratched his neck.
She toyed with the feather in her hair, studying him through narrowed eyes. “It was a compliment. I wish you and my dad had taken the time to get to know each other.”
Frustration and even some anger nipped inside him as she pointed out another way he’d let her down. No matter how hard he worked, no matter what he did, he would never measure up to her father, the great Zach Dawson. But arguing with her wasn’t going to change a thing.
“Thanks for the soup.” He spun the office chair to his computer again, hoping she would take the hint.
Her heavy sigh only gave him a moment’s warning before she walked past him to lean against his desk. She folded her arms over her chest and stared him down.
He couldn’t stop his gaze from settling on her breasts, plumped above her arms. He would give his right nut to be able to peel that white cable sweater over her head and kiss every inch of her.
A year and a half ago, that would have distracted her from her anger. Tonight? He knew better.
“Shel? Problem?”
“Damn straight there’s a problem. It’s going to be a long, awkward, miserable drive if you keep ignoring me. Can’t we at least have a civil conversation with each other?”
Her green eyes sparked with a heat he was tempted to flame. Eight years together had taught him a thing or two about her. If he rose to the bait they would follow a familiar pattern. They would argue. Or she would argue, and he would shut down. She would get so frustrated tears would shine in her eyes, all but bringing him to his knees because he’d hurt her again. He would haul her close.
Clothes would fall...
Blood pumped through him, leaving him impossibly hard.
Her eyes fell to his lap and widened. “Oh, uh...”
“Right, we can keep talking. But I want you to be clear that in every second of that very polite exchange, my brain will be filled with how much I’m aching to take you. On the desk. Now.”
She rubbed her palms along her jeans legs. “You’re doing it again, Alex, shutting down any chance of a real conversation. That’s not fair to me.”
A distant corner of his brain had held out a hope she would say something like, sure, sex on the desk is a super idea.
No such luck.
Silently, he pivoted away from her and resumed typing on the keyboard, double-checking for rest stops on their trip. Willing away his body’s reaction to her and his own disappointment over how he’d obviously screwed up again.
She gave another heavy sigh and shoved away from the desk. “Fine then. Be that way. I have some last-minute Christmas gifts to wrap.”
She raced out of the room a second before it hit him. He hadn’t bought her a present yet. He’d been clueless on what to get an almost ex-wife. He’d been planning to figure it out in the days before Christmas, but now they would be on the road, together. Just not how he wanted them to be together.
His office chair creaked long and slow as he eased back, screen saver bouncing a photo of Samson and Delilah dressed as Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus. What the hell was it about Shelby Dawson-Conrad that still rocked the ground under his feet like he was nineteen again?
CHAPTER FOUR
EACH BRISK BREATH OF morning air iced her lungs as Shelby picked her way along the slick walkway, adjusting her hold on the sacks of Christmas gifts. Prince, Trooper and Daisy raced around the yard, burning energy they’d stored up in the shelter kennel runs. She stared through the light swirl of snowflakes to her husband securing the luggage carrier on top of the Explorer.
There was no room in the car—the SUV would be full enough with Shelby, Alex, three dogs and a cameraman, plus the winter survival gear, an ice chest of food and thermoses of coffee and cocoa. Trooper and Daisy would ride in the cargo area of the SUV with a fence barrier between them and the seats. Prince would ride up front with her and Alex. She ticked through her mental list and couldn’t think of anything else to do or bring.
She’d had a restless night, and now exhaustion tugged at her, the cold air only increasing her urge to hibernate with hot cocoa in front of the fire. With her husband. All she’d been able to think about last night—all she could think about now—was how much she’d hoped he would talk to her over dinner. They would share the meal and...what? Find answers?
At least come to some
sort of truce so that she could do what she really wanted to do: make love with Alex on his desk. Or the office chair. The floor, the futon. Her body clearly hadn’t fallen in line with her brain in accepting that her relationship with Alex was over.
But he hadn’t wanted to talk. He’d shut down, like always, and she was beginning to lose hope that a conversation could make this any less painful.
This morning her eyes were drawn to him as they always were. His parka hit the waistband of his jeans, leaving her with too perfect a view of his narrow hips, his perfect butt. Her gaze traveled to his broad shoulders and she ached to walk up behind him and rest her cheek on his shoulder, pretend they were a happy couple getting ready for a holiday trip. The neighborhood hummed with so much normalcy she wanted to shout in frustration at how out of control her life had become.
She actually envied her neighbor clearing the dusting of snow from his driveway with a snow blower, and the harried mom across the street taking trash out in her slippers and a long overcoat.
The decision to divorce had seemed so clear-cut when she’d learned he was voluntarily putting himself in harm’s way. Being a military spouse was difficult enough, but the fact that he’d deliberately added to that stress had been the last straw for her. How could he be that desperate to avoid true emotional intimacy with her? How could he have disregarded her worry, how deeply it tore at her? She feared each knock on the door could be an official notification of his death.
Alex turned to take the sacks from his wife. “Good God, what’s in here?”
“Stuff for my family and things for you. It would look strange to my family if we didn’t give each other anything.” She glanced down at their gloved hands, both holding the handles to the bags without touching. “I, uh, wrapped up a couple of presents for you to give to me.”
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