by Lily Everett
“Queenie isn’t normally violent,” Sam stated, working hard to keep the growl out of his voice.
Andie shot him a raised brow.
“She’s got some issues,” Sam allowed. “But traveling is stressful for most horses—today was the exception, not the rule.”
“If anyone can get this mare smoothed out and happy again, it’s Sam,” Jo promised, huffing as she bent to attach the heavy metal ramp to the back of the trailer. Sam shifted his weight, aching to get over there and help with the heavy lifting, but even that minute change in his stance had Queenie snorting nervously and swiveling her ears to check for threats.
“Anyway,” Jo continued, “I’ve got ulterior motives for offering up Windy Corner as a foster home for Queenie. I’m planning to ruthlessly use his knowledge and experience to help out with the first few therapy sessions. He’s going to make a great side walker.”
Sam tried to wipe his face clean of whatever confused expression he’d sported to make Jo grin at him like that.
“A side walker? I don’t know.” The way Andie hooked her thumbs in her gun belt shot heat straight to Sam’s groin. “Sounds like something we might have a law against. I’ll have to check the books.”
“No matter what it is, I’m game,” Sam promised Jo. “Anything I can do to help out, to thank you for taking Queenie in—just name it, and it’s yours.”
“You may be sorry you said that,” Jo muttered as she slapped her hands on her denim-clad thighs to shake off the sawdust from the floor of the trailer. “A side walker—different from a streetwalker, Sheriff!—is a volunteer who walks beside the mounted client to provide steady support through the session. Depending on the client’s needs, he or she could have both a side walker and someone else to lead the horse through the exercises…”
Pausing, Jo went a little red around the neck. “Listen to me carry on! Y’all weren’t asking for a lecture on the ins and outs of therapeutic riding. We’re all so caught up in it at the barn, I tend to forget it’s not the main focus of life for everyone on the island!”
“Don’t apologize, this is fascinating,” Andie said. “Can anyone volunteer, or are you only looking for people with horse experience, like Mr. Brennan?”
Uh-oh. Was the sheriff about to volunteer her time to the center? Sam saw the way Jo perked up. Looked like he might be spending even more time with Sheriff Andie Shepard. His smart head said, “No, no, no,” but the stupid head? The one in his pants? That head was all for it.
“No experience required!” Jo looked as if she wanted to sweep Andie up in a bear hug. “We’ll teach you everything you need to know before you ever have to go into a session. Are you interested, Sheriff? We’d sure love to have you.”
The last gasp of Sam’s rational brain coughed out, “Hey Jo, ease up. I’m sure Sheriff Shepard has better things to do with her time off…”
Andie raised her cinnamon-colored brows. “What better way could I spend my time than helping people in this community?”
“That’s already your day job,” Sam argued. “You don’t need to make a hobby out of it, too.”
“I may not need to, but I intend to. I’ve been looking for a way to get more involved in the community ever since I moved here three years ago. It’s high time I took the plunge. Jo, count me in.”
Jo, who’d been watching the volley of back and forth like it was a match at Wimbledon, smiled slowly. It wasn’t a comforting expression. “I’m so happy to hear it, Sheriff. It’s always great when two volunteers start at the same time—saves us a heap of trouble when it comes to training.”
“What do you mean?”
Now it was Andie’s turn to sound nervous, but Sam had no time to enjoy it before Jo said, “Because we can pair the two of you up and train you as a team.”
Sam locked his jaw on the protest that wanted to escape. The last thing he needed was to spend more time with the sexy, too-competent sheriff and her penetrating gaze … but part of him—three guesses which part—liked the idea. A lot.
*
Taylor braced one booted foot against the side of the trailer to keep the tack trunk she was sitting on from sliding when Jo took a wide, slow turn, and considered her options.
She could jump on the chance to text Matt that his favorite uncle—or cousin, whatever, Sam was uncle aged—was in town … or she could play it cool, and wait to see if Matt showed up at the barn on his own, looking for Sam. Playing it cool would obviously be … cooler. But impatience itched at her fingertips, urging her to tap out a quick message to her best friend.
Okay, Matty was pretty much her only friend. But didn’t that make him the best, by definition? Taylor’s best friend, the hottest guy in school. The guy she’d totally had a chance with last year before she screwed it up completely and lost Matt to happy coupledom when he started dating Dakota Coles. Now Matt and Dakota were everyone’s favorite couple—they were that sickening high school duo that seemed destined to be the king and queen of both homecoming and prom. They’d probably get voted Most Likely to Stay Together Forever.
Taylor McNamara, on the other hand? Most Likely to Pine and Wallow in Regret.
Two more months, she reminded herself. Then school would be out and she wouldn’t have to see Dakota’s smug smile as she pranced through the halls hanging off of Matt’s (sinewy, muscled) arm.
In fact, after graduation, chances were good that she wouldn’t have to see Dakota Coles for a long time. That was enough to bring a smile to Taylor’s face, although the smile faded at the reminder that she wouldn’t be seeing as much of Matt, either.
That decided it. Playing cool was for people with time to dick around. Taylor had goals, and her deadline for achieving them was fast approaching.
When she couldn’t get through more than a couple texts without embarrassing typos caused by the rough ride in the trailer along with Sam’s horse, Taylor gave up on texting and called Matt instead.
“Is Sam really here?” he demanded as soon as he picked up the call.
Taylor laughed. “I have no motive for lying.”
“I can’t believe my mom didn’t tell me he was coming!”
“Well, what were you going to do about it? Clean the house and make up his room? I thought you had people for that.”
Matt made a scoffing noise that didn’t quite hide his discomfort with the fact that Taylor’s teasing was only the truth.
“Oh come on,” Taylor said, annoyed that she felt bad for bringing it up. “Your mom married a billionaire—for love!—and now you’re set for life. I know it was a little freaky at first, but aren’t you used to it by now?”
The breath he huffed into the phone was mostly a laugh. “That’s what I love about you, Tay. You don’t sugarcoat things.”
As much as she wanted to thrill to the sound of the ‘L’ word and Matt’s nickname for her mingling together in a single sentence, the rest of the sentiment made her grimace. “Sorry. I know it was weird for you.”
“No,” Matt protested unconvincingly. “I mean, I’m happy for my mom, and I like Dylan a lot. And obviously it’s great she doesn’t have to work two jobs anymore and all that. I just … for a long time, it was me and Mom against the world. And I’m glad she has Dylan, but everything is different now.”
Taylor thought about her dad and how sad he’d been after her mom died, and how much happier he was now that he and Jo were together. “I know. Something special happens when you’ve just got one parent, and all you have is each other. Letting other people into that is hard, but it’s the right thing to do.”
“Especially since we’re going to college soon,” Matt mused. “I would’ve hated leaving Mom alone. Now at least I know she’ll be taken care of when I’m not around.”
Taylor’s eyes burned the way they always did when she thought about leaving home. Leaving Sanctuary Island, leaving her dad and Jo and the horses at Windy Corner … leaving Matthew Little. “Man, this conversation got heavy in a hurry,” she said gruffly.
&nbs
p; “My bad,” Matt apologized with a quiet laugh. “I know you hate all this sappy emotional stuff.”
If only he knew. Taylor had gotten friendly with plenty of emotions this past year.
A year of watching Matt laugh, hold hands, and cuddle with someone who wasn’t Taylor. A year of knowing that even if Tomboy Taylor could compete with perfect, pretty, girly girl Dakota Coles, Matt would never, ever cheat.
“I don’t hate the emotional stuff,” Taylor insisted, wincing at the fierce seriousness in her tone but unable to soften it. “You can tell me anything, no matter what, and I won’t judge you or make fun of you. I hope you know that.”
“I do.” Matt sounded touched, as if he knew that hadn’t been easy for Taylor to say. “Nobody gets me like you do, Tay. That’s why you’re my best friend. Man, I’m going to miss you next year.”
Taylor leaned her head against the metal wall of the trailer and tried to tell herself her eyes were watering because of the hay dust in the air. “Me too, Matty. Me too.”
“Best friends forever,” Matt declared, and this time he was the one who sounded fierce.
Taylor echoed him. All she could think was that if Matt’s friendship was what she could have, she’d take it—but if she didn’t at least try for something more, she’d regret it for the rest of her life.
Less than two months until graduation, then three months of summer. That was her window. Time to jump out of it and see where she landed.
Chapter Four
By the time Andie closed her front door behind her, it was hours after her shift was supposed to be over. In those hours, she’d mediated a dispute between neighbors involving a wandering goat and an unfortunate clothesline, reprimanded a teenager for speeding down Island Road, filed a mass of paperwork before it could completely cover the surface of her desk, and fended off Ivy’s far-too-interested questions about Sanctuary Island’s newest arrival.
“I’m just saying, Corinne Larkin, down at the market, well she said she saw him driving past in Jo Ellen’s truck, and Corinne said he she could tell even from a distance that he’s a stone cold fox,” Ivy had eagerly related.
“More like a wolf,” Andie told her, doing her best to be firm. “Seriously, I’ve got a feeling about him.”
Ivy gave a catlike stretch and curled her red mouth into a smile. “If what Corinne said is true, I’m curious what feelings he could give me. Unless, of course, you’re calling dibs.”
Andie had told her dispatcher not to be ridiculous, but deep inside, she was uncomfortably aware that she hadn’t warned Ivy off of Sam for purely altruistic reasons. He might be volatile, but there was something magnetic about him, something that drew Andie’s attention and turned her blood to warm honey.
Determined to put Sam Brennan out of her mind, at least long enough to get a good night’s sleep, Andie unbuckled her heavy utility belt and hung it on the hat rack by the door. She was already fantasizing about a long, hot shower, her fingers on the buttons of her uniform shirt, when her phone rang.
“Oh, no,” she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. Andie took the space of a breath to wish she were the kind of person who could ignore the phone call, but there was no point wishing for impossible things. It could be work. It could be important. It could be life or death. She plucked her vibrating phone out of the jacket she’d tossed over the back of her sofa.
The unknown Maryland number on the screen froze her in place, every ache and pain forgotten as her mind went blank for the space of a heartbeat.
That was either a telemarketer or … her brother.
When he was on active duty, stationed somewhere out there in the world, his only way of phoning the states was a prepaid calling card, which showed up on caller ID as an unknown number. Andie’s heart raced. Even knowing the telemarketer was more likely, seeing as how she hadn’t had more than a brief email from Owen in almost five years, Andie’s finger still hovered over the “talk” button, paralyzed by fear.
What if it wasn’t Owen, but his commanding officer, calling to let Owen’s next of kin know that he’d been wounded or, God forbid, killed in action?
If that was the truth, she needed to hear it. No matter how much it hurt. Andie hit “talk” and kept her voice firm.
“Sheriff Shepard,” she said, taking strength from her official title and sending up a quick prayer for good news.
The rush of relief that hit her system at the sound of her brother’s voice in her ear weakened her knees. He sounded good. Scratchy and rough, yes, and there was as much background noise as if he were calling her from inside a blender, but it was Owen.
“So you’re a sheriff now? Dad must be over the moon, even if it’s not the Louisville PD.”
Andie made her way to the couch on unsteady legs. “Are you okay?” she demanded, ignoring the reference to their father. There was no way she was wasting this precious chance to talk to her baby brother by getting into the same old argument.
Owen’s stubborn defiance of their father’s wishes—and Andie’s doomed attempts to step into that gap and follow in their father’s footsteps—had caused enough distance between them already.
“I don’t have to be wounded or dying to call my big sister,” Owen protested. There was a short pause where they both considered that. “Okay. Maybe that’s fair, and I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch better.”
“It’s been years, Owen.” Andie wished she could keep the hurt out of her tone, but she’d never been a very good actress.
“Crap. Has it? Sorry. I just…”
He sighed and Andie could picture him palming the back of his neck, the way he’d done as a kid when he was feeling guilty. Completely against her will, her heart softened. She let him off the hook, like she always did—because someone in their dysfunctional little family had to do it, and it certainly was never going to be Dad.
“I know. You’ve been busy. How’s the army?”
“I made the Rangers, Andie.”
She caught her breath and put out a hand to steady herself against the back of the sofa. “Wow. Owen, I’m so proud of you. That’s an amazing accomplishment and I know you worked incredibly hard for it.”
“You have no idea.” He huffed out a laugh she could barely hear over the clatter and static of noise in the background of the call.
“Where are you calling from?” she asked. “If you’re allowed to say.”
“I’m not,” he told her grimly, “and I wish I could tell you I called to catch up, but the fact is, we’re going wheels up in about seven minutes and I have a favor to ask.”
Andie didn’t even hesitate. “Anything.”
He paused for a breath as if she’d surprised him. When his voice sounded in her ear again, it was lower, strained. Owen never did like to let on that he had a heart. “You might regret that when you hear what it is.”
Andie’s chest hurt with how much she loved him. Maybe if they’d grown up with a mother’s tender guidance, they’d be better at saying it out loud. But Andie did the best she could—she showed how much she loved and worried for him through her actions. “Whatever you need. I mean it.”
“I have a kid.”
The world reeled beneath Andie’s feet for a dizzying second. “You got married? When? Who is she? And I have a baby niece or nephew already? Owen!”
“I’m not married,” he interrupted forcefully. “And you have a niece, but not a baby. She’s eight years old.”
Andie swallowed around a huge, painful lump of emotions. Had they really become so disconnected, so estranged, that her youngest brother had been in a serious relationship for almost a decade without telling her? “Owen, what on earth…”
“I didn’t know about the baby.” The words ground out of him, stark and uncompromising. “She never told me.”
Andie took a deep breath. She’d trained to handle crisis situations calmly and efficiently. “Who is ‘she’? The mother?”
“Someone I dated briefly right before I enlisted. I was way out of the picture
by the time she figured out she was pregnant … and the thing between us—it hadn’t ended well. I don’t know how hard she tried to contact me or not, and I can’t ask her because she died in a car accident two weeks ago. It took them this long to locate me from what she’d told the kid—I guess she didn’t keep great records.”
“Oh no, Owen…” Andie wobbled around the corner of the sofa and let her knees go, sinking back against the couch cushions to stare up at the swirled plaster of her living room ceiling. The mother, dead. And the father? About to head out on a classified mission with his elite special ops strike force. Basically as unavailable as it was possible to be. “Where is your daughter? Right now?”
“That’s where the favor comes in.” Owen lowered his voice, his desperation seeping through the phone line to raise every hair on Andie’s body. “She’s on her way to Sanctuary Island.”
“I need to sit down,” Andie said faintly. She blinked. “Oh. I’m already sitting down. Maybe I need a drink. Owen, what?”
“Her name is Caitlin, she’s got no other living family, and the army has rules about soldiers who can’t make arrangements for their dependents. I can’t come home right now—I can’t leave my team in the lurch, right before an op—but I have to be able to show I’ve set my kid up somewhere stable and safe. Please, Andie. I need you. Caitlin needs you.”
Working to slow her quick, shallow breaths, Andie tightened her grip on the phone until the plastic bit into her hand. “I don’t know anything about taking care of a little girl.”
“You know more than I do,” Owen argued. “You were one!”
“No, I wasn’t. Not really.”
Andie didn’t exactly mean to say it, but the quiet words dropped into the sudden silence like rocks into a lake. She could almost hear Owen remembering what it had been like to grow up in their spotless row house in Louisville, with no mother and a father so embittered by her loss that he’d dedicated himself to discipline and rules. It was a house without softness of any kind.