by Jill Shalvis
She finally pulled into the Belle Haven parking lot, where both Wyatt and Emily worked as vets. Darcy had started off working here as a favor to Dell Connelly, one of the owners, a month or so ago when she’d finally been well enough to work again. Since she couldn’t do what she used to do, she’d been forced to take what she could get.
It had turned out to be a decent gig. She ran the front desk accompanied by Peanut, the mouthy parrot that perched at her elbow, and Bean, the grumpy cat asleep on her printer. At her feet lay Gertie, a one hundred pound Saint Bernard and the heart and soul of the place.
The heart and soul of the place was currently snoozing, snoring loud enough to wake the dead.
The day flew by, and near the end, Adam Connelly—Dell’s brother—stopped at her desk.
“You ready?” he asked.
Adam was ex–National Guard, worked in Search and Rescue training both people and dogs, and was just about as tough as they came. Today he wore cammy cargoes and a military green T-shirt and a dog tag that read: Allergic to bullshit, bullets, and bitching.
She stared up at him. “Ready for …?”
“I’m teaching a puppy class. You’re assisting.”
“I am?”
He gave her a rare smile. “Yeah.”
Ten minutes later they stood outside in the yard facing their class. Darcy sidled up to Adam. “You seriously need assistance?” she asked disbelievingly, because the class seemed to be made up of four women and four adorable puppies. “You’ve been to the front lines. How bad can this be?”
“Bad,” he said. “Your job is to watch my six.”
“Your back?”
“My virtue,” he said.
She rolled her eyes but hey, he was the boss. If he wanted to pay her to stand there and protect him, who was she to argue?
“Watch and learn,” Adam said. “It’s not about training the puppies; it’s about training their humans.”
He turned out to be right. Within twenty minutes, two of the puppies had turned into escape artists and were on the loose, racing around in the mud, spooking a few horses in the pen and generally wreaking havoc.
Their owners stood there wringing their hands, so Adam and Darcy divided and conquered to capture the little wriggling heathens.
Adam had no problem capturing his, but then again he had strength and agility on his side.
Darcy, on the other hand, felt like a baby giraffe who’d just found her legs. Twice she dove for the damn puppy and twice she missed.
And landed in the mud.
Adam laughed so hard he had to bend over, hands on his knees.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
This only cracked him up all the more, a sight to behold because he was normally a pretty serious guy. When he’d finally controlled himself, he came over and offered her a hand, which she took.
And then pulled him down into the mud with her.
“People have died for less,” he said mildly but she told herself she wasn’t worried.
Much.
Then the still-on-the-loose puppy raced for the fence and the horse standing behind it with its ears pricked up, stomping a foot in irritation. When the horse lowered its head and snorted in the puppy’s face, the puppy squealed, jumped, and did a one-eighty in the air, diving right into Darcy’s arms.
“Got you,” she said triumphantly on her knees, covered head to toe in mud.
The puppy was still running in place in her hands, wriggling and squealing like a baby pig.
“Maybe this will teach you to listen,” Darcy told it. “Hush now.”
The puppy actually stopped struggling and relaxed, and Darcy flashed a triumphant smile at Adam. “See? This isn’t so bad at all.”
That’s when the puppy peed on her.
Adam grinned. “You’re right. This job isn’t so bad at all.”
By the time Darcy got home, most of the mud—and puppy pee—had dried, making movement even more difficult than usual. She had a raging headache and her body throbbed at each pulse point from overuse. She needed a hot shower, bed, and utter silence.
But she walked into the house to the scent of BBQ and the sound of music and laughter.
Wyatt and Emily were there, and some of Zoe’s friends as well. She remembered that she’d had a text from Zoe. She glanced at it and yep, sure enough, Zoe had given her a heads-up.
People were scattered throughout the living room, but Darcy’s gaze went straight to the tall, built man leaning against the mantel.
AJ, a beer in hand, smiling at something Remy was saying to him.
Remy was a good friend of Zoe’s. A beautiful petite redhead, who was perfectly toned from all the time she spent at the gym trying to get AJ’s attention. She was pretty and funny, and her legs always worked—and she probably was never covered in mud and puppy pee.
“Hear you’re going to Boise,” Wyatt said when he came up to Darcy’s side. “So AJ got his head out of his ass and asked you. That was my idea, by the way. Ask you, not tell you. You know, coax.”
“Coax?” Darcy asked.
“Yeah, sort of let you think it was your idea. Women like that.”
Darcy stared at her brother, who was so smart and also a complete idiot. “Who told you that garbage, Dr. Phil?”
“It’s Women 101, aka having two sisters and a really hot girlfriend,” Wyatt said.
Emily, who’d come up behind him, smacked him on the back of his head. “Women 101?”
He rubbed the back of his head. “Did you not hear the really-hot-girlfriend part?”
Emily looked slightly mollified as she gave Darcy a hug and then froze, nose wrinkled. “Uh …”
“I know,” Darcy said, backing away from everyone. “I’m a wreck. I need a shower.”
Everyone went back to whatever they’d been doing, taking her at her word. Except for one person.
AJ, of course. He saw everything, always, and he certainly saw right through her. She wasn’t sure if she was annoyed or secretly thrilled when he broke away from Remy and caught her before she vanished.
“Hey,” he said, hand on her arm, turning her to face him. He looked her over very carefully, taking in the mess that was her Styx tank, her jeans with all the questionable stains on them, and her battered, mud-covered boots.
“Don’t touch,” she warned. “I’m disgusting.”
Reaching out, he pulled something from her hair. She didn’t want to know what.
There was something in his gaze. A seriousness, and … irritation? Well, that wasn’t exactly new, so she shouldn’t be surprised that she’d managed to piss him off without trying. She looked around for a distraction but no one was paying them any attention, especially Wyatt, who had Emily in a clutch, kissing her, slow and lingering, with as much eye contact as lip contact.
Something deep in Darcy sighed. “Well,” she said, “this has been fun but I’m going to go hazmat myself now.”
“In a minute.” Holding her still, AJ met her gaze.
Annoyingly breathless, she tried to disappear. “I don’t have time for this, AJ.”
“You have a damn minute.” He reeled her back in, smoothed the hair away from her face, and peered into it. “You okay?”
And just like that, she came undone. She always did when he looked at her like this, his eyes dark and assessing. Controlled and, yeah, still cranky but also … warm. Caring. There was never any doubt of that, though she was hard-pressed to understand why.
She knew exactly how hard she was to care about. “I’m good,” she managed.
He shook his head, not buying what she was selling.
“I ran a puppy training class with Adam,” she said. “I’m covered in mud, questionable muck, and most definitely puppy pee, and I ache from head to toe, especially the head part. And now that you know everything there is to know, I’m going to the shower and I’m not coming out until next week. When I do come out, I’m going to hunt down my purse, which I think I just dropped by the front door, grab some Adv
il, and go straight to bed. If that meets with your approval, of course.”
And then, without waiting for his response, she took the stairs and escaped into her bathroom, where she locked the door, stripped, and cranked the hot water.
Just before she stepped in there was a knock. Only one person would dare, and she didn’t have the energy to deal with him. “Go away.”
“Open up.”
AJ, of course, and he didn’t sound any happier than he’d been a minute ago. Well, he could join her damn club now, couldn’t he? She shook her head, realized he couldn’t see her, and cleared her throat. “Why?”
“I’ve got Gummy Bears.”
She wrapped herself in a towel and cracked open the door. He stuck his foot in, muscled the door open, and strode in.
“Hey!” She tightened her grip on the towel and glared at him. “And where are the Gummy Bears?”
“I lied.” His face was quiet, calm. Almost blank. Which, as she was beginning to learn when it came to AJ, meant he was feeling the exact opposite, proven when he turned his hand up, palm out, revealing a bottle of Oxycontin.
Hers.
“I found your purse for you,” he said. “No, you didn’t have any Advil in it. Just this.”
She stared at the bottle.
“You told me you were done with the painkillers months ago.”
She blinked in surprise, both at the question and at the tone in his voice. Cold. Angry. “Yeah,” she said carefully. “And I am.”
After as many surgeries as she’d had, she’d gotten a little too attached to her painkillers. In fact, she couldn’t sleep without them.
And since she’d given them up two months, one week, and four days ago—not that she was counting—she hadn’t slept since.
The last refill on her prescription had come due yesterday, and in a moment of panic she’d refilled it just to have it. Sort of like a security blanket. She got that it made no sense to anyone but her. But nor was it anyone’s business except her own. “How is this any of your business?”
He didn’t answer.
She didn’t need him to; the answer was painfully obvious.
He thought she had a problem.
“Not that this is any of your concern,” she said, trying hard to control her anger, “but I have them for comfort, basically. I’m not taking them.”
He just looked at her, face blank.
“Look,” she said. “Count them if you need to. Or don’t. I don’t care what you think.” Unlike him, she didn’t have a blank face, which infuriated her. She snatched the bottle from his palm and tossed it to the counter. Only she missed and the bottle hit the mirror and ricocheted off, nearly beaning AJ in the head. Would have nailed him if he hadn’t caught it in midair.
“Do you know why I keep these?” she asked.
“To hit people in the head?”
“Get out.”
“Darcy—”
Nope. She didn’t look at him, because if she saw pity she’d have to kill him. She took the bottle for the second time and gave him a nudge that was much more like a big, fat shove, knowing that when he indeed moved, it was only because he allowed it. Then, to make herself feel better, she slammed the door on his nose.
Six
The next day AJ worked his ass off at work, seeing clients back to back to back, managing staff, running a fitness workshop with Ariana, and handling the virtual mountain of all the usual behind-the-scenes crap at his desk. He’d been so busy he didn’t have time to wonder if his head was on straight.
A good thing, as it was most definitely not on straight. In fact, thinking about the Boise trip, it was about as unstraight as it could get.
A knock at his door had him looking up from his computer.
“Going to meditate,” Ariana said. “Thought you might join me.”
She was forever trying to get him to meditate with her. AJ appreciated that she got a lot out of it. And he also appreciated that a lot of their clients got a lot out of it. But he didn’t. Every time he tried, his mind wandered to all the shit he should be doing with his time. “Sorry. I’ve still got a lot to do.”
She smiled. “You know what they say about all work and no play …”
“Yeah, yeah, but I also have one client left for the day.”
“Tyson? He just cancelled.”
AJ frowned. “Any reason why?”
“Yeah, he said he was over it.”
AJ had been working with the guy for months, and though Tyson still had a shit attitude, AJ had thought that maybe they were finally getting somewhere.
Apparently not.
He pulled out his phone and called him.
“What?” Tyson answered in a tone that suggested the caller could and should go fuck themselves.
“We had plans,” AJ said.
“You had plans. Me, not so much.”
“The key is constantly working at those muscles,” AJ said. “You know this. When we work hard, you get more mobility each time.”
“We?” Tyson repeated. “You mean when I work hard, and I’m tired of working hard.” He blew out a breath. “Listen, this isn’t your problem, so forget it. Forget me.”
Most of AJ’s clients actively wanted to get better. Not Tyson. He honestly didn’t appear to care if he recovered or not. Not that this mattered, because AJ refused to give up on him. “Come in or I’ll drive to you.”
There was a beat of silence. “Why?” Tyson finally asked. “What the hell does it matter to you?”
“A lot. You’re going to get some more improvement, Tyson, even if you don’t believe it.”
“But I’m always going to be in this fucking chair.”
“You still have two working arms and a brain, right?” AJ pressed.
More silence. Pissy silence.
“Look,” AJ said more gently, “your doctor said there was room for physical improvement, and it’s my job to help you get it. Why not go for it? Unless you’re enjoying the solo pity party?”
“Fuck you. Hard.”
“Tell you what,” AJ said. “Let’s strengthen your arms and shoulders and then you can try.”
Tyson choked out a laugh. “You’re an asshole.”
“I know. You have a ride here?”
Another pause. Then a long, drawn-out exhale. “Yeah.”
“Great,” AJ said. “I’ll be waiting.”
Tyson swore and disconnected, and AJ left his office, walked down the hall, and into the gym. It would take Tyson at least a half hour to get here, not long enough for a real workout but he’d take what he could get.
He needed to blow off some steam.
Wyatt was there at the bench press, and by the looks of him, he’d been there awhile. AJ took the machine next to him and started pumping.
Wyatt slid him a look. “Problem?”
“Nope. No problem. No problem at all.”