by J. M. Madden
As she gathered up the items she could carry and slid out of the truck, the puppy finally woke up. She started wagging her tail and twisting, wanting to be put down. As soon as Shannon set her to the floor the little dog squatted and peed.
Laughing lightly, Shannon headed up the ramp to the kitchen. “Well, the garage floor got the first pee puddle.”
John had been in the process of shedding his jacket, but he paused. He motioned her around him. “That’s fine. You just go get ready for bed. I’ll take care of the dog.”
Shannon wasn’t going to argue with him, but she paused. “You know, I never did see what her name was.”
John looked up at her with a grin. “Well, I was calling her Yellow.”
She made a face at him, scowling. “You don’t get to pick any more names in this house. You’ll be naming our child Boy or something.”
It had been a joke, but when a considering look settled onto his face she smacked him. “Don’t you dare,” she laughed.
Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to his firm lips. “Go clean up the puppy pee while I come up with a decent name.”
As she turned away she caught the glint of light on diamond and she had to pause to look at the engagement ring again. The cushion cut stone was beautiful and he’d guessed well when it came to size. Or maybe Duncan had helped him. Duncan helped all of them with everything.
Alex was as beautiful as Shannon had hoped she’d be. She hoped that beauty went more than skin deep. Though he led everyone else, Duncan had his own ghosts that needed to be driven off.
Shannon dropped her bags to the counter, promising herself she would go through them in a bit. Right now, tiredness weighed her down. If she paused too long she would probably fall asleep, even standing up. They needed to decide what to do with the puppy, though. Bathroom? Kitchen? All the floors were either hardwood or linoleum but a small, easily closed off room would be a good idea. And what were they going to call the damn thing?
Lola. Nah. It would need to be something she wouldn’t mind saying a lot. The dog looked to be part golden retriever. Maybe Caramel. Or Carmella. That was kind of cute. She’d have to try it out and see if it fit. If she kept peeing on the floor Shannon had a feeling she would be yelling it constantly.
A wave of tiredness washed over her and as amazing as her night had been, she was about to crash. Peeking out the door at John and puppy, she had to pause just for the merest moment. The dog sat curled on John’s lap, looking up at him as he whispered to it. John looked up at her, dark brown eyes guarded. When he saw her grin, he grinned as well. “What? She was crying.”
“She’s going to have you trained in no time.”
He made a face at her and set the pup down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Shannon quirked a brow but didn’t say anything more. “Where should we put her for the night?”
John looked around the garage. “Not out here. It’s too cold. Why can’t she sleep with us?”
She tilted her head, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. “You want the dog to sleep with us? In the bed with us?”
John winced as he headed toward the ramp up into the kitchen. “Okay, maybe not. Where do you think we should put her?”
“Spare bathroom. We’ll set her up a little bed and some food and water bowls and she should be fine.”
Though he scowled, John nodded his head. The puppy followed him up the ramp and promptly disappeared into the depths of the house. Shannon heard a hiss and a crash from the living room and paled. They’d forgotten the cats!
After some serious wrangling and ass-kissing on the humans’ part, the animals were separated and bedded down for the night.
Shannon’s bones ached, she was so tired. As she settled beneath her comforter and waited for John to crawl in beside her, she tried to keep her eyes open. Considering it was their engagement night it would have been nice to make love, but she just didn’t think she had the energy tonight.
John went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, hoping that Shannon was still awake. It had taken him a while to get Gray Cat settled down. She’d been royally pissed when the pup had pounced on her in play. That animal held a grudge too. He bet there’s be a dead mouse in his shoe in the very near future.
As he rolled into the bedroom, Gray Cat gave him the evil eye, curled protectively against Shannon’s knees. Oh yeah, she was going to hold a grudge.
At the end of the bed he set the brake on the chair and peered through the darkness at Shannon’s form. There was no response when he paused and she breathed softly. Her left hand was curled under her cheek and he could just barely see the band of her ring.
All in all he had to give himself props. Marriage seemed to have been the issue, as well as the pregnancy. God, what the hell—heck—was he going to do with a kid? He’d thought the dog was a positive next step in their relationship. But they’d just gone from couple to family at light speed on him. Was he ready for a kid?
Plugging his cell-phone into the charger, he set it on the bedside table, then hoisted himself onto the bed using the bedpost. He tried not to jostle Shannon but she was so tired she didn’t even move. Finagling his legs beneath the blankets, he laid back with a heavy sigh.
A mournful howl split the silence.
John blinked awake, wondering what the hell the dog was thinking. They were sleeping. She howled again, sounding like her heart was breaking.
“She’ll go to sleep,” Shannon murmured, not even opening her eyes. “Sometimes you have to let them cry.”
John laid back down and shut his eyes, but the mournful cries continued. And continued. After a solid fifteen minutes of noise he flung back the comforter, letting the cool of the room into the bed. Then he felt guilty and made sure Shannon was covered up to her neck. She didn’t budge the entire time the dog howled and he shook his head in disbelief.
Pulling his chair to the side of the bed he shifted onto the seat and released the brake. Maybe the dog had spilled her water or something.
Rolling through the dark house to the bathroom, he cracked open the door. The little dog bolted out of the room, smacking into the side of the chair. Then she leapt against his useless legs, trying to boost herself up into his lap. John reached down to pet her and felt like a ginormous heel when he realized she was shuddering with fear. Damn. What had he done to the poor thing!
As soon as he picked her up she curled into his lap and her trembling started to ease. Well, hell. Now what?
* * *
Duncan frowned at the door for several long seconds, wondering how on earth he was going to keep his hands off the delectable Dr. Hartfield.
Even after traveling on the plane and getting here to his house, she still looked beautiful. Like, stunningly beautiful. He wasn’t used to being tongue-tied, but a couple of times his words had ground to a halt as he’d watched her lips move. What a totally… alien feeling. He always had words. Sometimes too many, sometimes not the right ones, but he always had them.
Duncan limped back out to the living room, his hips throbbing. He had done too much today. Wandering to the kitchen, he made sure everything was picked up, then he moved to the laundry room. The snowmelt from her suitcase was already gone. Limping back into the kitchen, he debated what to do. With the way his body ached he knew there would be no sleeping if he didn’t relax the straining muscles first.
Sighing, he headed to his room for a pair of swim trunks. He wouldn’t be skinny dipping tonight like he normally did.
After he changed he headed to the room addition at the back of the house. The area used to just be a patio, but when Duncan had bought the house a couple of years ago he’d known that he’d wanted a hot tub. The device been invaluable in his recovery, both in the hospital and at the physical therapy he’d taken over the years. Yes, the tub itself was a bit of a pain to keep up, but the alternative was crippling pain and discomfort. His hips would never be what they were before, but hopefully the hot water would help keep the arthri
tis and tendon tightening at bay.
So, the room had been modified for the appliance. The screen walls had been glassed in and the fake green grass carpet exchanged for non-slip, heated tile. It was a nice room, carefully lit to be soft and easy on the eyes.
As he sank into the water, he groaned in relief. The water was so hot it gave him chills, then the heat started to seep in. He could feel the muscles in his lower back releasing their debilitating, viselike hold.
Tiredness battered at him as well. The day had been long and busy, and he knew if he could find a comfortable position he would sleep like the dead. Hopefully Alex would as well. Then in the afternoon he could take her down to the hotel.
Although, who wanted to be alone in a hotel on Christmas?
He drifted off to sleep in the tub twice, but it felt too good to leave. The third time he dozed off he forced himself up out of the water and over the side. Patting his flushed skin with a towel he tried to wring out the excess water from his shorts before walking through the house. Once in his room he headed into the shower to rinse off. Then, finally, he allowed himself to lay down in his bed. Within seconds, he’d drifted away.
* * *
Alex, apparently didn’t move at all the entire night. When she woke her bones felt rusted in place, but once she got moving she felt completely refreshed. That had to have been the first eight solid hours of sleep she’d gotten in a long time. Her thoughts immediately drifted to Duncan.
The house was quiet. Was he up yet? She felt anxious to see him.
Her career at the hospital was varied and interesting, but even she admitted it had kind of swallowed her entire life. It had been months since she and her father had gotten together, and even longer since she’d had a date. Sex was a distant memory. The men that wanted to fuck her she had no interest in, and vice versa.
It wasn’t until Duncan had limped into her life that she actually felt the need to get to know someone in depth. Yes, she was curious about his injury, but she was more curious about him and the life he lived now.
She peered out the bedroom door and tried to listen for movement. It was after seven o’clock, but maybe he slept in later than that on days off.
Would the shower wake him?
Alex gathered some clothes from her case and headed toward the bathroom. She would make it a point to be as quiet as she could. She latched the door shut and turned on the lights. As she stepped out of her sleep shirt and folded it, she wondered what he slept in.
The towel she pulled from the vanity smelled of Tide, one of her favorite scents. As she stepped under the hot water, she realized she should have brought her own soap. The water washed over her skin as she snapped open lids on shower gels to see what she liked. Finally she found one that wasn’t too overwhelmingly masculine.
As soon as she lathered up, she was reminded of Duncan. This must be the scent he used as well.
Alex shook her head at her foolishness. It had been years since she’d been so hooked on a guy. Back then it had been a passing thing, but she’d already been fascinated by Duncan for longer than any other relationship she’d ever had. It had been months since he’d met her in Kansas City, but she’d thought about their connection every day, wondering what would have happened if she’d kissed him. Or what if Aiden’s case had gone differently and had a better outcome?
She hurried through the rest of the shower and dried off. Her thick hair would take a couple of hours to air dry, but she didn’t want to wake him running the blow dryer if he wasn’t up. After she dressed she would scope out the area and see what was going on.
The minute she opened the door, the wafting perfume of bacon tickled her nose. Grinning, she padded to her bedroom and dropped her dirty clothes at the foot of the bed, then headed toward the kitchen. Snow still fell softly outside the windows, making the house feel cozy and warm.
Duncan leaned against the counter beside the stove, fork in hand as he watched a pan of bacon sizzling. He glanced up when Alex entered the room and she was caught by the intensity in his expression. Then the skin around his eyes crinkled and he smiled.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” she told him honestly. “I think it’s been years since I’ve slept so soundly. Between traveling and everything else, I was worn out. And it was nice not bolting out of bed for an emergency.”
Duncan nodded, turning back to flip a few pieces of bacon. He reached to turn the heat down on the burner and Alex had to admire the long line of his strong back. Though he wore a sweatshirt, she could tell he had muscles buried under there. When he moved to the sink, his limp seemed more pronounced. “How did you sleep?”
He gave her a crooked grin over his shoulder. “Not too bad.”
For some reason she thought he was lying. If he had slept well the lines of pain bracketing his mouth would be less pronounced, wouldn’t they? It wasn’t her job to call him out on it, though.
She glanced out the sliding glass doors to her right. They led to a glassed-in outdoor room, with a hot tub inside. Beyond the tub she could see the better part of a foot and a half of snow piled at the bottom of the glass wall. “Oh, jeez! Is that all from last night?”
Duncan followed her line of sight. “Yes. I used the tub at about eleven and it was only up a few inches. Guess we’ve got a system sitting over top of us. It happens sometimes. You just learn to keep things stocked for snowy days.”
Alex ran her fingers through her wet hair, feeling chilled. “Will the power go out?”
Duncan shrugged. “If it does, we have a generator.”
Well, that made her feel better.
“Can I help you cook?”
“Nah. I’ve got this.”
“Good,” she sighed. “I’m not much of a cook. If somebody else wants to take the job, I am more than willing to let them.”
Turning, he gave her a quizzical expression. “What if you get hungry?”
“There are some great takeout restaurants around. And I can do frozen meals if I need to.”
His quizzical expression settled into laughter. “As a doctor I would think that eating fast food all the time is counter-intuitive.”
She nodded, leaning her elbow on the edge of the table as she sat down. “Oh, it is. I can spout off all the dietary information a patient needs, but I can’t cook for shit. I can throw bagged salad on a plate or something, but not much more than that. I just wasn’t given that gene. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
And she had. Even her father, worldly soldier that he was, could cook up a mean casserole when the need arose. For Christmas one year he’d given her cooking classes at the local community college. It had given her a few tenuous basics, but nothing complicated. After a few weeks, Mrs. Houser, the kind lady teaching the class, had finally pulled Alex aside after yet another scalded pan incident to suggest that perhaps she should find another hobby. Alex had left with her tail between her legs. It had been the only significant failure in her long and gloried school career.
Her father had merely shaken his head at her. “I should have saved my money.”
It wasn’t like she starved or anything. Fast food was everywhere now as well as portable, healthy food. Bananas and a yogurt started her day every day. If she had time for a lunch, she tried to eat a salad.
Duncan still looked at her. “What?”
With a slight grin he shook his head again and turned back to the counter. Alex didn’t care about her long-ago bruised ego if it meant she could see Duncan’s slight smile. The man was entirely too serious for his own good.
As he cooked her breakfast Alex talked to him about the men he worked with. All were former military, she knew that, but she didn’t know they were all under medical supervision for one or more issues, both physical and mental.
“PTSD affects most of us in the company and we have a very good relationship with a local therapist. She can get the guys in short term and knows how to work with the VA system. And if the system completely drops the ball, I’v
e set up a fund to cover some of the costs.”
Though she loved being a hospitalist, an in-house general practitioner, as it were, she’d felt something motivating her ever since she’d dealt with Aiden Willingham. Veterans seemed to really get the short end of the stick when it came to care.
“Are there other programs that provide care? I mean so you don’t have to rely on the VA for everything.”
Duncan nodded. “There are several organizations and charities that have popped up willing to aid vets. But those are few and far between, and often hard to get into. If they’re really cutting edge, many times they have waiting lists comparable to the VA.”
She knew the statistics of veterans that died while waiting for something were truly depressing, and they had to be soul-crushing for the vets themselves on the lists. There had been several recent news stories about vets asking for help, then committing suicide when they were denied or delayed yet again.
“It seems so wrong that they can’t speed things up. I mean, considering the rate of deployment and return, the system was overloaded years ago.”
“Yes,” Duncan agreed.
The single word seemed to linger in the air, but honestly, what else could be said? The system that was supposed to take care of them was simply not keeping up with the needs of the veterans it was meant to serve.
“Did you see the NY Times article the other day proposing that PTSD is now a physical issue rather than behavioral and emotional?” she asked him. “A doctor has done studies on the brains of deceased servicemen and there is a physical abnormality in the folds of the brain itself in those that have been in combat.”
“No,” he admitted, limping over to set a plate in front of her. “I hadn’t seen that. But I’m not surprised at all.”
Alex forked a bite into her mouth, starving. Duncan offered her ketchup for her scrambled eggs and fried potatoes, but Alex shook her head. They were too good without it. “Thank you for this. I don’t get real cooked food very often.”