“Stay here,” Lucas told Jenna. He grabbed his cane and hobbled across the uneven garden terrain, praying he wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of her again.
Maybe it was the good-looking guy standing at the sink who made the difference.
17
Jenna held her breath while Lucas approached Sparky with an outstretched hand. The dog temporarily lost interest in Lucky, and Lucas snatched his collar and hauled him back across the lawn to where she waited.
Unable to overcome her fear, she jumped up from the bench and hurried around behind it, putting a wall between her and Sparky.
“You’re not changing your mind, are you? About keeping him?” She tried to keep her expression from revealing that she feared just that.
“He just needs a firm hand. No self-respecting dog could resist a good cat chase.”
Jenna smiled apologetically. “I just hope he doesn’t scare Lucky off. He’s a pretty cat.”
“Don’t worry. Lucky knows where his bread is buttered. They’ll work things out.”
“So you’ll keep him?”
“We made a deal. I won’t back out on it.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” She hadn’t really meant to say that out loud.
“Give me a week. I bet I can whip him into shape.”
“You don’t mean that literally, right?”
“No, of course not. Figure of speech.” He gave her a smile that seemed to seal his promise.
A man of his word. She liked that.
The sun climbed high in a clear gray-blue sky, but a gust of wind sent a chill up her spine.
“You cold? Let’s take this dog into the garage and get him settled, then I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”
“That would be nice.” She should be downtown looking for a job and a place to live. Trying to get her life figured out. Spending time with Lucas this morning had taken her mind off her problems. Unfortunately, it hadn’t solved a single one of them.
“If you’ll give me your keys, I’ll bring Sparky’s stuff in.”
“Great.” He fished a key ring from his pocket and showed her which one opened the truck. It took two trips to haul all the stuff Bryn had donated along with the dog.
A lump rose in Jenna’s throat, thinking about Bryn’s teary response to Lucas’s offer to take Sparky. She was grateful, but sad to let him go, too. Between having her father in the hospital and her upcoming wedding, poor Bryn’s life was in upheaval. Still, Jenna felt a stab of jealousy. What would it be like to have a parent you loved enough to grieve over? And a husband-to-be who made you glow the way Bryn did since she and Garrett had fallen in love?
She slammed the pickup door and pushed the thoughts away.
Lucas met her in the backyard and let her in the house through the patio doors. The house smelled of day-old coffee, cinnamon, and woodsmoke.
“I’d start a fire, but I’ve got PT later on and Ma won’t be home until late.”
She liked the way he called his mother “Ma.” And the affection with which he said it. “It’s okay.” She waved him off, then hugged herself, feeling warmer already. “It’s nice in here.” Looking around the large, cozy kitchen, she felt embraced by its charm. Clarissa would have considered the decor kitschy, and the painted cupboards and rag rugs outdated. And frankly, there was a time Jenna would have agreed. But somehow it all seemed just right for this house. Maybe it was the good-looking guy standing at the sink who made the difference.
Lucas rinsed out the coffeemaker and started a new pot. He seemed comfortable in the kitchen and moved around with ease, his cane apparently forgotten, though she noticed he kept close to the counters, using them to steady himself.
She settled into one of the high stools at the breakfast bar, watching him work. The heady scent of coffee soon perfumed the air and he joined her at the bar while they waited for it to brew.
Recounting Sparky’s antics a few minutes ago, they laughed together, and for once, Jenna didn’t feel her nerves standing on end at the very thought of the dog.
While they savored fresh coffee, they talked about everything and about nothing at all.
Spending time with him like this, Jenna realized that she and Lucas had already built a history together over the few occasions they’d been together. There was an easy comfort between them that she relished, even as she realized how different this was from what she’d had with Zach.
She didn’t want to make comparisons. Zach came up short, and that didn’t seem fair—especially when she didn’t know Lucas that well. And yet she was beginning to feel as if she’d known him forever.
She couldn’t have said how long they’d been talking, but she became aware of the sun on their backs, its bright warmth creeping in through the top of the tall west-facing patio doors.
“What time is it, anyway?” She looked around the room for a clock.
Lucas glanced at his wristwatch and gasped. “Oh, man … I’m late for PT.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry.” She felt awful.
“It’s not your fault. But I’d better get going.” He slid off the stool and took his mug to the sink.
She followed with her mug and spoon and rinsed them out.
“Don’t worry about the dishes.”
“Listen, I can just walk back to Bryn’s. I’m so sorry I made you late.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s only two minutes out of my way to drop you off.”
“You’re sure?”
“You bet. Let me check on Sparky and lock up. I’ll meet you at the truck.”
They rode in silence back to Bryn’s. Jenna regretted the abrupt end to their time together, yet the silence between them wasn’t an awkward one.
When Bryn’s apartment came into view, she gave an inward sigh. “Just let me off at the curb.”
Lucas parked the truck, and stretching his right arm across the back of the seat, he turned to her, a boyish grin on his face. “Hey, you wouldn’t want to go out tomorrow night, would you? See a movie or something?”
She shouldn’t have been surprised at the invitation, but she was. He seemed a little startled by it himself, as if he hadn’t intended to ask her out, but the invitation had popped out of its own accord.
She wanted to say yes more than she’d wanted anything in a long time. But she didn’t even know where she’d be sleeping tonight. How would she get ready for a date from her rumpled “closet” in the backseat of her car? She couldn’t very well tell him to pick her up for their date at “the gray Volvo in the parking lot.”
“Lucas, I—”
He held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I assumed too much. I shouldn’t have—”
“No …” Suddenly she was terrified he’d change his mind. “No, I’d like that. I’d like it a lot.”
His smile melted her. “I’ll pick you up around six then?”
She grimaced. “Where?”
“Oh. Where should I come?”
She’d just have to figure out a way to explain things to Bryn. “Pick me up here,” she said, hating the deception, but unwilling to let the chance to see him again slip away. She’d park in the back lot of the complex here if she had to.
“It’s a date then.”
She climbed down from the truck and stood watching until he disappeared from sight. Should she be feeling guilty that she was so eager to see him again? Maybe she did—a little. But not enough to say no, right, Morgan?
What had she gotten herself into?
His first thought was of Jenna Morgan.
18
Tuesday, December 2
Lucas woke to a slice of sunlight on the wall of his bedroom. His first thought was of Jenna Morgan. His second was of Sparky, though he didn’t think he’d mention that to Jenna. He wondered how the dog had fared through the night. He hadn’t heard him bark once, and now he worried something might be wrong.
Easing his legs over the side of the bed, he automatically performed the series of stretches and isometric exercises he’d learned
over the past year of physical therapy. He wasn’t sure if they really helped or not, but he wasn’t willing to face the ire of his therapists—or his mom—by missing even one day. His legs always functioned better early in the day.
He looked out the window and saw Ma dragging the trash cart out to the drive. He’d gone to bed before she got home last night, so he hadn’t had a chance to tell her about Sparky. He threw on yesterday’s jeans, grabbed his cane, and hurried out to help her, knowing the kind of greeting she was likely to get from the dog.
By the time he retrieved Sparky’s leash from the garage and shambled down the driveway, Sparky was running circles around Ma. She seemed delighted, twirling one hand above the dog in graceful arcs, as if they were dance partners. He smiled at the contrast between his mother and Jenna. Jenna must have had a bad run-in with that rottweiler as a kid to have the extreme fear she did. She’d warmed up to Sparky a little before she left yesterday, but she had a long way to go.
He wasn’t sure why it was so important to him to help her overcome this fear. He was taking a lot for granted to assume she’d have any reason to be around Sparky in the future.
Of course, he did have a date with her tonight. He smiled at the thought. But the smile faded at the sudden image of Zach. His best friend, beaming, his wife on his arm. It was a scene that came to him with disturbing frequency in recent days. His face heated at the remembrance of the way he’d flirted with Jenna at the company picnic a couple of years ago. Jenna had been merely polite, while he’d made a fool of himself. Zach hadn’t seemed bothered, but then Zach couldn’t have known that there was a lot more going on in Luc’s mind than innocent conversation with his buddy’s wife.
He threw up what was surely the thousandth apology to heaven, and to Zach, then shook off the memories and the shame. It was over. He could put it all behind him. Easier said than done.
“Hey, Ma.”
At the end of the drive, his mother whirled to face him. “Well! You’re up early.”
He met her in the middle of the driveway and patted Sparky’s head. “You want me to take him?”
“So I take it we have a dog now?”
“Sorry. I meant to say something.”
“I like him. We were just playing. He did scare the stuffing out of me when I went out to the garage this morning. What’s his name?”
“Sparky.” Lucas cocked his head. “You’re not mad at me for adopting a puppy?”
She gave him a you-can’t-fool-me look. “This is no puppy.”
He held out the coiled leash. “I’m going to take him around back and work with him a little.” He clicked his tongue. “Here, Sparky. Here, boy.”
He grinned to himself. He might have to come up with another name—something a little more manly—for the dog. Then again, if he was going to be a firehouse dog, Sparky had kind of a nice ring to it.
His mother started toward the house. “Just please be careful, Luc. Don’t let him trip you up. He’s pretty rambunctious.”
“Ma! I’ll be fine.” He hadn’t meant for that to come out so sharp, but as if someone had flipped a switch, her words grated on him. No matter how many times he reassured her, she still worried. He understood why, but all her babying was starting to get on his nerves. Sometimes he wished somebody would remind her that he was a grown man.
He put Sparky on the leash and walked him around to the back gate. A quick call to Bryn last night confirmed the training her father had done with Sparky. Later Lucas had spent two hours on the Internet reading up on the basics of training a grown dog.
For the next hour and a half, he tested some of the commands Bryn claimed the dog knew. Sparky seemed a little rusty at first. He kept one eye on Lucas’s cane, as if he were afraid his new master might beat him with it. Lucas finally leaned the cane on the bench and took Sparky out to the giant oak in the middle of the yard.
By the end of the hour Sparky was responding amazingly well to simple commands of sit, stay, and heel. Lucas rewarded him with doggy treats from the box of stuff Bryn had sent.
After Sparky followed him around the fence line, heeling and sitting on command, Lucas took the dog to the stone bench where he and Jenna had sat yesterday.
He unclipped the leash and gave Sparky a good rubdown. “Good job! You did good, boy. Just wait till Jenna sees you. She’ll be amazed. Yes, she will.” The dog ate up the sweet talk and seemed content when Lucas went in to shower.
Twenty minutes later, his head swimming with inspiration that had come while he stood under the hot spray, he took a steaming mug of coffee to the computer. He entered accelerant detection dogs into the search engine and started reading.
Sparky would be a good fit for the fire station. And from what he read, there just might be a possibility of training him as an accelerant detection dog. Jenna got credit for that idea, of course. He’d thought it was a little far-fetched when she’d mentioned it, but the more he read, the more excited he became.
His elation was short-lived, though, when he came to the part about acceptance into the training programs. Most of the training sites required the handler to be in top physical shape. One application said dog handlers must be able to walk three to four miles a day.
Could he do that? Maybe, but not with any speed. And he’d pay for it dearly the next day.
He was up to two miles a day on the treadmill in PT. It wasn’t pretty to look at. He was slow and clumsy, and continuous walking still caused him a good deal of pain, but still, two miles was two miles.
Inspired by the thought, he grabbed his jacket and headed for his truck. He carried his cane but didn’t use it, instead using every ounce of his will to walk without the usual hitch in his step. He drove to the station and parked in the front lot, leaving his cane in the car. It felt weird to be going in through the front entrance, as if he were a guest.
“Hey! Look who’s here! Vermontez!” Several of the crew on duty were hanging out in the front office shooting the breeze. He saw several new faces, but even the neophytes gathered round to clap him on the shoulder or shake his hand.
“How you doin’, buddy?”
“Lookin’ good, man!”
They closed in, threatening to throw him off balance. Through sheer willpower, he managed to stay upright.
“Is Brennan here?” he asked.
“In the south bay, last I saw him.” One of the new hires—Jerry Samuelson, according to his badge shirt—pointed past the living area. “Go on back. He’ll be glad to see you.”
He made his way down the wide hallway to the bay where the engines were garaged, inhaling the unique smells of the place—last night’s spaghetti and cheap coffee, and as he got closer to the bay, diesel fuel, boot polish, and sweat. The old excitement swelled inside him, buoying him.
Peter Brennan looked up and surprise registered on his sun-weathered face. The chief greeted Lucas with the same enthusiasm the other guys had, pumping his hand and looking him up and down. “You’re looking great, man. What can I do for you?”
“I want to come back. I know I can’t do everything I did before, but I can work up to it. I’ll do whatever it takes.” He hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but there it was anyway.
Brennan studied him hard, then hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Come on back to my office. Let’s talk.” Lucas took a step forward and his knee hitched, shooting pain down his calf. He barely suppressed a groan, but quickly caught himself and kept walking, sensing Brennan’s frank perusal behind him.
“So, what does your doctor say?” Brennan asked once they were settled in his office with Cokes from the vending machine in the mess hall.
He could see the chief’s skepticism but forced confidence into his voice. “I’m getting better every day. Still in PT, and improving all the time.”
“I’ll need a doctor’s clearance. Before I can even consider it.”
“I know that.” Lucas’s hopes dimmed, but he held up a hand. “I want to run something by you.” He took a deep breath and told th
e chief his idea about training Sparky. “I’d be his trainer and handler. I’ve researched it, and there are programs not too far from here that we could get hooked up with.”
Brennan looked pointedly at Lucas’s legs, doubt clear in the set of his jaw. “You’d have to pass the same physical as the other guys. Even with a dog, you’d still have to be on-site.”
“I understand.” It was the kiss of death. They both knew he couldn’t pass that physical now—maybe not ever.
Brennan stood, smiling but dismissing him. “You come back the minute you’re ready and we’ll administer the tests. I’d love to have you back, Vermontez, you know that.”
He thought he’d steeled himself for it, but Brennan’s rejection hurt far worse than he’d expected it to.
“How’s your mother doing?”
Lucas gave him an answer, but his voice was dead with defeat.
He extricated himself from the premises as quickly as he could, not bothering to hide his limp. They’d never let him come back. Never take a chance on him.
And how could he blame them? Even if he was only working with an accelerant detection dog, if he wasn’t 100 percent, he could endanger lives. He didn’t need any more blood on his hands.
Behind the wheel of his pickup, he slammed the gearshift into reverse and gunned the engine, shooting a spray of gravel into the winter air.
That … was a secret she would carry to her grave.
19
Don’t be silly, Jen. I don’t mind one bit.” Bryn patted Jenna’s hand, then went to the closet and pulled out her winter coat.
“Thanks, B. I owe you.” She watched Bryn, envious of the confidence—and a strange sense of peace—she seemed to have, even with everything that had happened. The tragedy—not just losing her husband, but the awful guilt she bore—had changed Bryn. And for the better. It was a mystery Jenna hadn’t had the courage to ask her about, but she was intrigued.
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