Because the charade was taking a toll on them both. He was pretty sure Shelby hadn’t slept any more than he had last night, the tossing and turning a constant reminder of all he couldn’t have as he listened to each shift of her beautiful body against the sheets. Now, Shelby was so exhausted she’d opted to sleep in the back, sending Gene to ride up front.
Alex scowled, his own exhaustion stripping him of the social skills for small talk.
“What, dude?” Gene peeked around the camera, the red record light blinking.
“I’m creeped out by that lens jammed in my face all the damn time,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Isn’t there a law against distracting the driver?”
Gene just pushed some buttons without lowering the load from his shoulder.
Sighing, Alex put a hand in front of the lens. “Come on, dude, shut it down, okay? The dogs and Shelby are all out for the count.”
“Sure, no problem.” Gene set the video camera in his lap. “Mind if I change the radio to a music channel?”
“I’d rather hear the weather.”
“Sounds wise.” As they passed a minivan, Gene waved at a kid pressing his nose and mouth against the window, steam spreading.
Alex shot a glance at Gene, suddenly wondering...the station had thrown a lot of money behind a small new spot. Was there some other angle going on here? “Have you filmed the shelter for the station before?”
“I’m a freelancer,” Gene reminded him, reaching for a bag of trail mix on the dash. “This whole promo gig is Ben Rhodes’s baby.”
“Ben Rhodes? I seem to recall my wife mentioning him.” Alex frowned, not at all happy with the path his brain was taking.
“Rhodes is the head cameraman at KFOR—and he’s dating the shelter’s director.” Gene scooped a handful of trail mix. “Every guy is not after your wife, dude. I mean, she’s hot and all, but she’s totally gone on you.”
Alex grunted.
Gene hmmed, chewing. “Want to talk about what’s got you strung so tight?”
“Not really. Roads suck, I should pay attention to my driving. And we might wake up Shelby.”
“Your tight-lipped attitutde makes you a tough guy to interview. But hey, I can take a hint, I’ll leave you alone.” Gene hefted up the video camera again, shifting to angle the view toward the back.
“Damn it, could you quit videotaping my wife?”
“But that’s why I’m here. To capture this journey on film, help with positive promo for the shelter, increase donations and get more animals adopted.”
“She’s napping.” He was the one who would watch her as she slept—not some other guy. “Filming her now doesn’t help the dogs, and it’s an invasion of her privacy.”
Gene rested the camera on his lap. “Now you’re jealous of me?”
“Do I have reason to be?”
“Are you blind? I already told you, she’s clearly crazy about you.”
Then why did she ask for a divorce? Alex gripped the steering wheel tighter to keep from shouting it out loud.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Gene shook his head sympathetically. “Even if she hit on me—which she has not—I bat for the other team, if you catch my drift.”
Alex scrubbed a hand over his head then grabbed the wheel again. “I just made an ass of myself. I’m sorry.”
“Your words. Not mine.”
It was perfectly clear Shelby wasn’t seeing anyone else, and he’d never once had cause to wonder in the past. But now that they were splitting, she had every right to move on with her life.
His nights of watching Shelby sleep were coming to an end. And he had no one to blame but himself.
* * *
SHELBY SCRUBBED THE SLEEP from her eyes and realized the vehicle had stopped. Had she been out that long? All the restless nights must have caught up with her.
She worked the crick from her neck and peeked through the wire divider at Prince and Daisy in the back. “Alex?”
He stretched his arms overhead. “The GPS says this is the place.”
About a zillion RVs filled the park even with the frigid temperatures. Gene leaned forward to pull something out of his camera bag.
She fished her phone from her pocket. “I’ll text the Swensons that we’re here. Would you mind walking Daisy and Prince?”
Mere seconds after she’d hit Send, her phone vibrated with the Swensons’ return message telling her to meet them at the clubhouse. She looked out the window at Alex steering the dogs into the trees with such patience in his big burly body. The sense that someone was watching her brought her eyes up. Gene had the camera trained on her face. Keeping up the happy act was starting to really wear on her nerves.
Forcing a smile, she pointed to the window. “The pooches are over there.”
“It’s cold outside,” Gene answered without moving from the front seat.
“That’s why you get paid the big bucks. I’m just a volunteer.”
Chuckling, he relented and stepped out. She grabbed her jacket from where she’d wadded it up to use as a pillow. She shook the wrinkles from her parka and slid her arms inside.
She opened the door, bracing for the cold. “Alex,” she called. “The Swensons are going to meet us in the clubhouse.”
On cue, an older couple came out from behind a tricked-out RV decorated with stickers from around the country. Christmas icicle lights dangled across the front windshield. Three small dogs on leashes trotted closer to Shelby, all wearing matching plaid sweaters. Gene went into silent cameraman mode, videotaping...Daisy?
Playing in the snow with a couple of kids?
Grumpy Daisy, who would refuse a squeaky toy soaked in beef broth, was downright prancing around two elementary-aged kids waddling in thick snowsuits. Alex stood to the side, holding the leash, keeping a watchful eye on the playful pup.
A lightbulb went off in Shelby’s mind. Daisy loved kids, not adults. She felt dizzy with relief. If her hunch was correct, the Lab puppy would be fine in the morning when she met her new family, since they had two little girls.
But as much as she hated to miss out on watching Daisy shine, it was time to secure Prince’s future. Shelby started toward the couple near the clubhouse.
Alex scooped up Daisy and came to stand alongside Shelby at the steps. “The Swensons seem eager to meet Prince.”
“I feel guilty making Daisy come inside.” But it really was bitterly cold, and she didn’t want to risk the Labrador puppy getting sick, especially not when she was so close to her happily ever after.
“Daisy will have kids of her own tomorrow. Kids for keeps. Let’s focus on getting this little man settled.” Alex held up the leash, the thin silver-studded handle looking tiny and incongruous in his large, callused grip.
Prince approached the nearest pooch—a poodle—warily.
Mrs. Swenson was short, currently sporting fuzzy earmuffs and matching snow boots. She extended her hand. “I’m Louise and—” she paused, gesturing to the wiry man towering beside her “—this is my husband, Skip.”
He nodded silently.
Louise patted his arm. “He doesn’t talk much. Never has. But I chatter enough for both of us.”
Shelby extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I’m Shelby, this is my husband, Alex, and that’s Gene, he’s filming an animal adoption special for our local TV station. I assume that’s okay with you?”
“Of course. Anything to help get more poochies adopted.” Louise reached out to the Pekingese, offering her glove for him to sniff before she picked him up. “And this must be Prince.”
The Pekingese snuggled into her arms. What a perfect suck-up move. Good boy.
Starting up the stairs into the log cabin clubhouse, Louise crooned to Prince, “Once we get inside, we’ll intr
oduce you to the rest of our pack.”
Skip followed with their festive pups—a Chihuahua, a Cairn terrier and a poodle. Gene was all over, filming the little guys in their plaid Christmas sweaters and booties.
Louise glowed for the camera. “I sewed one for Prince, too.”
Inside, the clubhouse sprawled out to a wide-open space with two long tables by a kitchenette on one side and leather sofas around a stone fireplace on the other. A massive Christmas tree filled one corner. A sound system piped in “Jingle Bells” while a fire crackled in the hearth. A half dozen other campers were scattered in the room, curious about the camera but keeping to themselves.
Louise set Prince down near the Chihuahua...
The Pekingese growled low and long. The pooch was all but claiming Louise as his now. The Chi-Chi growled right back.
Crap.
Alex shot a panicked look her way.
Louise waved a hand. “Don’t you worry about a little grousing. We’ll just take our time here, no rushing the first meet. You two have a cup of cocoa over there and watch while we work this out.”
Nerves pattered in her stomach as she followed Alex to the corner kitchenette, Daisy trailing. She’d been so worried about making this trip perfect with Alex, even fretting about Daisy, but she hadn’t considered that cute little Prince’s adoption might fall through. What if the rest of the trip was a failure?
Alex passed her a cup of cocoa while Daisy crawled under the table to eat a broken sugar cookie on the floor. “Hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.”
The unexpected gesture yanked her attention back to her husband. She’d been trying so hard not to fantasize about her soon-to-be ex during this trip, but right now she welcomed the distraction.
“You remembered.” She cradled the warm disposable cup between her hands, a bit of warm marshmallow oozing over the edge. “Thanks.”
She flicked her tongue out to capture the sugary goo.
Alex’s eyes lingered on her for a heated moment before he said, “You’re usually so on top of the meals, I don’t cook often. But I do pay attention.” He skimmed a finger over her hair. “Speaking of which...I like the feather.”
Her hair tingled all the way to the roots. She leaned against the wall, inhaling the scent of chocolate, burning wood and even hotter man.
She forced her hands to stay steady before she spilled her cocoa. “Some of my teenage wild-child still lingers. Better than piercing my eyebrow again. The school board frowns on those.”
He touched her eyebrow where she still carried a tiny scar. “You took it out before I met you.”
Okay, she was seriously going to melt if he kept that up. She sank into a chair at the end of the long oak table. “I only did it to get a rise out of my dad. He was pretty good at playing it cool, and when I didn’t get the reaction I wanted, I took it out. A feather would have hurt a lot less.”
“Valid point.” He rested a hip against the edge of the table, still standing. “But you must have driven the guys crazy in study hall.”
“And in detention when I cut class.” On the one hand, the angst of those days seemed so far away, but on the other, how much had she learned about taking drastic action to get attention from the people she loved? For all her obsession with getting him to talk, how much had she actually said? “I was so out of control back then, so angry over my parents’ divorce—and hurt by Mom walking out.”
“The way I’m walking out now?”
His question rumbled softly between them, stunning her into silence for a second. She’d wanted to have a real discussion with him, and now that it was happening, she didn’t know quite what to say.
She sipped her cocoa while she gathered her thoughts, then decided to answer honestly, “I never saw it that way. If anything, I blame myself and worry that I’m...too much like my mother.”
“You’re nothing like your mother. You remind me more of your stepmom, Julia. You’re both the most giving people I’ve ever met.” He reached in his pocket for a dog biscuit and tossed it under the table to Daisy.
“Like Julia? Wow. Thank you.” Julia’s free spirit and non-judgmental ways had eased something inside teenage Shelby. She’d always looked up to her stepmother. Thanks to Julia, the family had started to heal, to bond again. Shelby had even gotten along better with her father.
Then she’d eloped with Alex and later withdrawn her application to vet school, angering her father and putting distance between them. In the years since, pride had kept those barriers standing between her and her dad, and now she didn’t know how she would tell him she’d wrecked her marriage.
Would her father understand, since he’d been through a divorce, too?
Alex scuffed the toe of his hiking boot against the carpet. “Maybe I’m the one that’s more like your mother.”
What? No way did he share anything in common with her superficial mother. Shelby couldn’t bear for him to believe that, for even a second.
She searched for the right words. “When my mom left, she traveled around the world with her new boyfriend. She would send us postcards or local foods, so, rather than use her name, I would call her by the country on the menu that day. If she mailed brie, I called her France. Chocolates, she was Switzerland. Sausage, Germany. Aggie loved the sausage era.”
“Ironic—your mother was never there and mine never left the house.” He drained his cocoa.
“I wish I’d had the chance to meet your parents.”
His mother and father had died in a car accident a few months before she’d met Alex. Maybe she would understand him better if she’d spoken to his parents. He’d told her very little about them other than that his father was an accountant and his mother was a librarian. He only had a few photos of them or even of himself as a child, but she’d always chalked that up to guys not being sentimental.
He crumpled his cup and tossed it in the trash. “No, you don’t. Not really. My mother was a very unhappy person.”
“You said she suffered from depression.” Alex had once revealed that the car wreck had happened as his father was driving his mother to a therapy session. “The holidays must make you think about her more...”
“Actually, no.” He met her eyes, full on, no barriers. “Talking about those cats at The Haven did.”
“The cats?” She sipped the last of her cocoa.
“My mom had cats...a lot of them.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I don’t know if today she’d be qualified as a hoarder. We made sure they had veterinary care. They were spayed and neutered. There weren’t sixty of them, by any means.”
“How many were there?”
“Usually around a dozen. Nineteen at one point.”
“Nineteen,” she gasped, unable to hide her shock. Barking from the minipack filled the silence between them.
How had she never had this conversation with Alex before? How could she not have known? Probably for the same reason he’d never known details about her teenage years. She’d just pushed him to open up and reveal all while she’d held a piece of herself back. She had failed her husband in a way she’d never suspected.
“It’s okay.” She touched his arm, his muscles twitching under her fingers even through the open parka he still wore. “She was ill. I understand better now.”
He started to turn away under the guise of getting more cocoa but she gripped his coat. She refused to let this opportunity pass, what could be her last chance at a deeper understanding of the man she’d loved for the last eight years.
“You said your mother’s cats got veterinary care. Who took care of that when she was in a depression?”
“There was a vet hospital down the road, within walking distance.”
“You took the cats to the veterinarian, alone? How old could you have been?”
He glaced around a
s if searching for an escape, but that would mean walking past Gene and the Swensons, not to mention a family at the other table. “First time I went, I was eleven. Two of the cats got into a fight. One, a calico, was injured with a torn ear and a pretty bad bite in his neck.”
Pausing, he returned to the cocoa, his hand steady as he poured, even if his grip on the pot was white knuckled. “I couldn’t just let him suffer. I bundled him up in a towel so he wouldn’t scratch me and I walked to the vet clinic a few blocks away.”
She took the fresh cup of hot chocolate from him. “You had to have been scared.”
“I wasn’t thinking, really. My feet just moved. The vet called my dad and he gave them his credit card number along with permission to treat and neuter the cat.” Alex stared into his steaming cup. “Shortly after that, a gray tabby got sick. I brought her to the clinic and they took care of her and then spayed her, as well. Dad covered the bill again...so the vet and I figured, what the hell? I started smuggling Mom’s cats down to get them fixed and the clinic mailed the bills to my dad’s office address. I think he was happy to shell out the cash so there wouldn’t be any more cats.”
Pain and frustration for Alex rose inside her. Her mom may have checked out on her, but her dad had at least tried to pick up the slack. “Why didn’t your father just take the cats to the veterinarian himself? Or tell your mom to scale back on the numbers?”
“My dad wasn’t what you would call confrontational.” He half smiled. “He tolerated the cats. He just wasn’t interested in hands-on care.”
A cold blast of air swept in as a couple of giggling teenage girls walked inside the clubhouse. An equally chilly blast swept through her as she began to understand why Alex was passive-aggressive in his personal life.
She waited for the two teens to settle in front of the fireplace with their cell phones before asking, “What did your mother say about the cats?”
“Nothing. I always made sure she didn’t know when I slipped a cat out of the house.”
He’d had to sneak the cats out? “Why didn’t you ever share any of this with me?”
And why had she never thought to ask, to push harder?
Rescuing Christmas Page 15