Marius

In this world, a man had to take the good with the bad.

For instance—a man lost his leg, but he kept his life.

A man missed out on a good fuck—but at least the girl was fantasizing about him.

Gretchen was either crazy for me are just plain crazy. Either way, she was more fun than I’d had in months, and I hadn’t even gotten into bed with her.

I had spent entirely too much time in the hospital worrying if I was going to live, walk, or be whole ever again. Didn’t have time left for bullshit. I wanted Gretchen. She obviously wanted me. Why did we torture ourselves? No need to play some fucking little game when pleasure was on the line.

Gretchen Murphy.

That satiny dark skin. Those big, chocolate eyes. I even liked those ridiculous pigtails. And I especially like the booty shorts.

For the past two goddamned nights, I’d gone to bed tortured by the memory of our kiss. I hated myself for letting her get away. For not stopping her before she bolted from the house and refused to answer my calls.

I wasn’t a good man. Hell, I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t died in purgatory and my hell took the form of Butterpond. But living or dead, Gretchen was nothing short of an angel. And I was looking for a little holy bliss.

Problem was, she avoided me. Hard core. However, as one of Butterpond’s public servants, she had to answer the call of her station. While I wanted nothing to do with the town, the people, or the Council hellbent on honoring me for returning to Butterpond wounded and worthless, Gretchen would be at the town’s monthly meeting. She made the misery worth it.

“Are you really going to this bullshit?” Tidus asked.

He dared to smoke in my presence. Big mistake. Our little sister usually smacked them out of his mouth, but I had my leg on. I’d chase his punk ass down and put out the cigarette on his arm if he didn’t drop the habit. I lost enough friends in battle. Last thing I’d lose was a brother to lung cancer.

He ducked away from my fist before it connected, and his cigarette plunked into an empty beer bottle.

He swore. But he knew better than to fight me.

“I thought you liked these meetings?” I asked.

Tidus snorted. “They shut down Renegades so everyone can go. No place to get a drink in this town on meeting nights.”

“You mean you gotta be sober for a hot minute?”

“The horror.” Tidus shook his head. “You’ve only been back in town for a couple of weeks. I never fucking left. I gotta have something to get through the days.”

Because his life was a goddamned tragedy. “You still got two legs. Why don’t you make something of yourself?”

“I can be twice the man you are while sitting on my ass.” Tidus shrugged. “I just gotta find the right motivation.”

“And that would be?”

Varius brushed passed us on his way to the kitchen. “He’ll find it at the bottom of a bottle.”

Tidus flipped him off, but Varius was accustomed to the motion. When he was still preaching, Tidus used to stand in the back of the chapel and devise new and blasphemous ways to distract our brother. Middle fingers. Hairspray and lighters. Porn in the hymnals. It had made church a hell of a lot more exciting, and Varius a hell of a lot angrier. Started giving real fire and brimstone sermons after that.

At least, until the tornado.

Now? It be great to find anything that would make Varius angry. Hell, to make him feel anything. Something had to awaken the shell of a brother wandering around our house.

“You coming tonight?” I asked Varius. I already knew the answer, but it was good to put him on the spot. This bullshit had gone on for long enough. “Come on. Don’t you want to support your older brother?”

Varius cracked open a beer. “I don’t do the monthly meetings.”

“Why not?”

Julian’s heavy steps rattled the stairs. For a man who spent the entire day working out in the hot sun, he sure as hell looked refreshed. Probably had something to do with the hour-long shower he’d taken with his fiancée.

“Varius can’t go to the meeting,” Julian didn’t bother smiling, just spoke the truth.“He might have to talk with some people from town. Can’t let that happen.”

Varius agreed. “Got nothing to offer them.”

Whatever helped him sleep at night. Or didn’t help him sleep. At this point, it was a miracle Varius was out of the basement, dressed, showered, and not looking for the nearest bridge for a quick leap. Something had changed him. We weren’t sure what. Certainly wasn’t his own ministry. But at least Cassi wasn’t scheduling us to babysit him anymore.

Micah followed Julian down the stairs, grumbling. Didn’t blame her. Last place she wanted to be was back at the municipality that had fired her. Then again, like some bullshit Hallmark movie, she’d given up her job for Julian and the farm. Seemed like an idiotic thing to do, but they did it for the baby growing in her belly.

A new generation of Payne. God help us all.

“Butterpond Medal of Honor,” Micah grinned. “Are you ready to accept that distinction?”

“As long as it scores me a beer at Renegades,” I said.

And somehow gets me connected to Gretchen again.

People said surviving the accident was brave. They didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about. Facing down the residents of Butterpond? That took real guts. And patience.

And a set of blue balls as big as the alpaca in the backyard.

My little sister burst into the living room, arms loaded with children. Not hers, thank God. She let loose the toddler in the living room, and handed the baby to her boyfriend, Remington. His nieces. Her babysitting charges.

I guess they called that shit nannying now.

Cassi dove at me with one arm, using her other hand to bat the cigarette pack out of Tidus’s hands. She might’ve been adopted, but the little firecracker was probably the most frightening Payne of us all. The sort with everything to lose.

She actually liked the family. And she liked us together. In fact, she’d given up on starting a new life in Ironfield to stay and help the farm and Remington. He wasn’t a good match for her. At least he knew it. We’d grown up together, had our issues, and resolved them like men. And while he seemed a better guy than I originally thought, he was still banging my little sister.

At least I was a good shot with a rifle.

“I’m so glad you’re doing this,” Cassi said, surveying my outfit with a frown. “Are you sure you want to wear jeans? What about a suit?”

“It’s Butterpond, Sassy. We’ll be lucky if the rest of the town is wearing pants.”

Quint hollered from the couch. “Or their teeth.”

I let her hug me again, only because she was my baby sister, and only she had that power over us. Always did, from the first day mom and dad had plunked her down in the living room, a little bundle of smiles, sticky hands, and chestnut skin. She’d won us over when she was ten months old. And she was still lording it over us even in her twenties.

Cassi had no patience for any of us. “Everyone is coming to the meeting. This is Marius’s night. We’re going to act like a family for once, and we’ll support each other.”

Great. “They don’t gotta come.”

Cassi disagreed, all one hundred and ten pounds of her. She was tiny, mighty, and the only Payne I feared. My cute little sister had grown up overnight. When she wagged her finger in my face, I shut up. Enough attitude in that kid to order an entire squad into battle.

Her voice wavered. The damn sniffle almost killed me. “You almost died, Marius. Don’t you understand how scared we were? We thought we were going to lose you. We had no idea if you were going to survive, or what would happen after the surgeries. I know you don’t think about it now, but if the town wants to give you an award for being brave enough to go to war, then of course we're going to go and support you. Someone’s got to prove to you that we are a family. And that we’re here for you.”

Oh, Christ. “Cassi, I know.”

“I don’t think you do. But whenever you’re ready to acknowledge it, you’re going to have a house full of people who love you, who are ready to do whatever it takes to help you get on your feet again.”

Quint snickered. “Foot.”

The hall silenced. One of the few times in thirty-two years that it got quiet enough for me to hear my own damned heartbeat.

And it was pounding a little too fast.

“Look,” I said. “I’m fine. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m goddamned fine. You gotta stop watching me, thinking I’m gonna break down, freak out, whatever. Don’t worry about me. I got a job lined up. Interviews scheduled for next week. And I’d fucking appreciate it if you all didn’t blow that for me. Stop treating me like I’m still in the fucking hospital. I’m fine.”

Why was it every time I said it, they believed me even less?

Julian didn’t bother arguing. “Got a job already?”

“Maybe.”

“You that eager to leave?”

Yes. “You know I don’t belong here. House is a little crowded anyway.”

Cassi pouted. “Maybe we like it that way? Maybe it finally feels like home again. Julian’s having a baby. Rem’s nieces love playing here. We're even talking about calling some of the old foster kids. Having them come home for a party or something. After what happened—”

I was done with this conversation. “What happened, happened. Find some other family tragedy to mourn. I lost a leg. Big fucking deal. Stop trying to make it something it’s not.”

Because that was how I was dealing with it.

And that was the only way I could deal with it.

I left the family in the living room, slamming the door my way out to the car. What the hell did they want from me? Did they want me to break down? Cry?

What was done was done. I hadn’t died. And that was a hell of a lot better than what happened to most of the guys from my squad.

I’d spent enough time recovering, and now the only thing people wanted me to do was relive that night. To face that moment again and again, to feel the pain, to suffer through that shock and horror, to have the nightmares, and to stare at the goddamned piece of plastic strapped to my stump.

At least there was a chance I could get laid tonight.

Wasn’t worth losing a leg for any random girl. But someone like Gretchen? Made the sacrifice worth it.

Of course, that meant heading back into Butterpond.

The town would’ve been a better place to live if it just gave into a crippling addiction to prescribed opioids and admitted that most of the residents had stayed in town for two generations too long. Butterpond was too small for any real leadership, but just large enough for those in charge to adopt more dictatorial methods. Pretty sure I’d lost my leg trying to prevent this sort of authoritarianism from taking root.

Town meetings were a battleground between multiple factions—the old and the new. Face painting for the kids was held at the blood pressure check for the elderly. Storytime at the library coincided with diabetes prevention in the second conference room. The historical society, emboldened from their meetings at the local pub, had splintered from the newly formed Preservation Club, the older ladies who met in the church and attempted to either turn the county dry or label the residents as heretics.

Nothing ever changed in Butterpond. And yet, every month, the town found something new, bizarre, and utterly ridiculous to piss them off.

This month, it was Gretchen.

Tidus knew how to score the best seats for the action. He’d reserved the back row ahead of time, and even pulled a hidden flask from under one of the chairs, taped there before the meeting. I took a good swig as the whispers in the meeting room transitioned from murmured gossip to general outrage. A couple of people turned to glanced at me. Women often stared at my crotch, but it wasn’t used to folks attempting to see through my jeans to guess which leg was fake.

I nudged Tidus. “Why the hell are they allowed to talk about my leg, but no one can say a damned thing about Mrs. Hunter’s botched boob job?”

Cassi shushed us, but Tidus agreed. “At least you got a reason to limp. They pumped her full of lead instead of saline. Now, she’s always leaning to the right.”

My sister elbowed Tidus. “We're not supposed to say anything.”

“Hell, she’s the one who bumped into me in the lobby.” Tidus winked. “Might be too big if you can’t steer them anymore. That’s all I’m saying.”

The meeting had yet to be called to order, one seat still empty. Mayor Desmond hadn’t made an appearance, and the crowd was eager to turn on any elected official seemingly shirking their duties. The conversations turned as hostile as when the council had suggested putting a meter in the bank’s parking lot.

“Don’t you tell me what I saw, Dave!” Raymond Adamski roared over the meeting room. He was a drunk when I left for the Navy, but now he was the town’s hangover. He thrust a gnarled finger at the aging council members, slurred his words, and accidentally spilled his preferred drink of the night. Peppermint schnapps from the smell of it. Butterpond was getting fancier in its old age. “I saw a goddamned bear in Becky Scarsdale’s yard. A grizzly!”

Dave Horsden must’ve heard the story a dozen times. He clutched his video camera—his attempt to ensure the authenticity of meeting minutes. But the bastard aimed the damned thing at Cassi as she adjusted her skirt. Quint had to restrain Tidus before Dave got any footage of my brother shoving a chair down his throat.

He shook free of Tidus. “There ain’t no grizzly bears in Butterpond, Ray. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, check your meds. You take one too many Vicodin, you start seeing half a dozen mythological creatures roaming the streets.”

“I’m telling you, it was a bear.”

The talk did nothing to soothe the nerves of a dozen irritated seniors, jostling their coffee and fighting amongst themselves. The oldest, Widow Barlow, tapped her carved, ornate cane against the floor. She scowled and almost disappeared into her wrinkles.

“Never used to have bears in this town,” she muttered. “There was once a time Butterpond was full of reasonable, God-fearing folk. These days it’s nothing but loud music, drinking, and grizzly bears.”

Dave lowered the camera. “There ain’t no bears. Where’s a bear gonna come from?”

Raymond guzzled the remainder of his drink, belched, and pointed directly at Becky Scarsdale, a woman more likely to bite his finger off than tolerate such an attitude. She crumpled the meeting’s agenda and brandished it as a weapon. Most women might’ve pitched the wadded ball of paper at Raymond. She opted to flash a slashing motion across her throat instead.

“I know you ain’t talking about me,” she said.

Sheriff Samson settled into his chair for his monthly meeting nap. “Becky, you play nice now.”

Becky’s hair fell out of her ponytail, her shirt was stained with cigarette burns, and she wore two different shoes. The classic Butterpond style.

“This is harassment,” she said. “I’m being persecuted.”

Ray stood on his chair to gain the attention of those in the meeting. Quint nudged me, sneaking a note card into my hand. A dozen squares had created a bingo card, and he winked at me.

“That’s a good card,” he whispered. “To win, you need a fistfight between the council members, a fender bender from one of the seniors, or for someone to go into diabetic shock.” My brother, the diabetic, had already etched in the shock. “I’m holding off eating my candy bar. Al Rogers up in the front row? He’s looking pretty damned sleepy. This’ll win us a free round at Renegades.”

Great. This town was so goddamned boring my brother was playing sugar roulette with his pancreas.

“You wanna know where the bears came from?” Raymond shouted over the hall. “Becky Scarsdale has turned that shit hole of a yard into a shit hole of a birdfeeder.” He pointed at Micah. “You saw it.”

Micah shrugged, but Julian hauled her into her seat before she gave a statement.

She hissed at him. “I warned them about the birdfeeders. I had an ordinance and everything.”

“I remember. Believe me, I remember.” Julian’s voice was hollow. Apparently, he’d had this conversation before and narrowly escaped without PTSD.

Raymond continued with only a moderate slurring of his words. “She started with one birdfeeder. Pretty soon it was two. Then three. Now it’s twenty or more.”

Dave frowned. “Now you got a problem with birdfeeders? You got a problem with freedom too?”

Raymond swore. “What’s going on in her yard ain’t by the grace of God good for the health of this community. She’s got birdseed layered on top of birdseed. Can’t even see the grass anymore. She’s takes a snow shovel to a twenty-five-pound bag of birdseed and spreads it over her grass like it’s peanut butter on toast.”

Sounded like Butterpond.

“Now the neighborhood is crawling with animals,” he said.

Becky screeched. “Don’t you take my babies from me! I get enough of that from CPS!”

Raymond hollered. “All that seed has brought more animals into the yard. Rats!”

Tidus encouraged him. “Rats?”

“That’s right. I found a dozen of them tangled in my yard yesterday. All runnin’ away from her house.”

Tidus couldn’t help himself. “What were they running from?”

“All those goddamned cats.”

Cassi groaned, but my brother liked to rile up the meetings. “So, there’s rats and cats?”

Ray nodded. “Feral cats. Angry ones. All coming up to eat the mice that are eating the birdseed. Got a dozen cats setting up a colony in my backyard. Someone scared them off the damn fairground, now they're in our neighborhoods.”

Julian flinched. “Whoops.”

“But you know what’s worse than the cats eating the rats eating the seed meant for the birds?” Raymond asked.

Tidus stood. “The frog on the log at the bottom of the sea!”

Raymond pointed at Becky. “All them other animals. Yesterday, there were two deer, five groundhogs, two raccoons, three possums, one with rabies, and a goddamned grizzly bear.”

Tidus grinned. “Well, what is the town to do about all these animals?”

Julian smacked the back of his head. “Shut up, idiot, or they’re gonna end up at our farm.”

Raymond’s anger was no longer directed at Becky. Instead he focused on a girl trying her hardest to disappear into her chair. “Gretchen, you’re still animal control, ain’t ya? Do something.”

Gretchen stood, Ambrose at her feet. Christ, she looked as mouthwatering as ever. Must’ve just come from her job. Her shoes were muddy, her shorts far too short for a meeting, and she was wrapped in a fluorescent yellow vest that hid all those beautiful curves under the obnoxious plastic. On the back, she had a giant emblem. A dog, a goose, and the shield.

Utterly ridiculous. Or adorable. Hadn’t made a decision yet.

Gretchen soothed the fears with a steady hand. “I can guarantee it wasn’t a grizzly bear. They don’t live on the side of the country.”

Dave nodded. “Hear that, Ray?”

Gretchen sighed. “If anything, it was just a black bear.”

That was a mistake. The old ladies in the room screamed. The Widow Barlow crossed herself.

“Lord have mercy. What is this town coming to? Bears in Butterpond.”

“I said if.” Gretchen winced. “Tell you what. I’ll take a ride up to Becky Scarsdale’s property and look around.”

Becky took this as a challenge. “You step one foot on my property, and I’m calling the Sheriff.”

Sheriff Samson waved a lazy hand. “Don’t worry, Gretchen. Next time I get called up there for a domestic, I’ll take you. Weekend’s coming up. Should see some action since she can’t get along with Ruben Pascoreli.”

The Widow Barlow shook her head. “Shameful. Just shameful. Never thought I’d see the day that our town council would lie about our bear problem. It’s a disgrace.”

Gretchen groaned. “There are no bears. But if there are, I’ll take care of it.”

Tidus gave a wicked grin. “What about all the coyotes?”

Oh Christ. He’d started a shit show.

But before the residents could riot, the meeting doors swung open and crashed against the wall. Everyone screamed.

“It’s a bear!” The Widow Barlow shouted.

Sheriff Samson drew his gun before swearing. “No. It’s just Mayor Desmond.”

Quint leaned over, elbowing us. “From what I hear, could be both.”

Cassi frowned. “Stop it. He’s married.”

“A beard for the bear.”

Mayor Desmond, the young sleezy sort of politician I should’ve probably befriended before attempting to get a job in DC, slithered through the door. He pointed at Gretchen.

“She’s not going anywhere,” he said. “Miss Murphy. You’re fired.”

A stunned silence rocked the room.

Quint stared at his bingo card, flipped it over in his hand, and balled it up.

“Fuck,” he said. “I don’t think anyone has that space.”

Gretchen stared at Mayor Desmond, her voice a quiet whisper. “I’m fired?”

One of the old ladies dove for her walker. “There’s a fire?”

An older gentleman patted her arm. “No, no. The girl was too tired. She can’t go pick any pears.”

The old lady screeched. “Where are the pears? I love a good pear.”

The man shook his head. “Becky Scarsdale’s got them growing out of birdseed.”

Gretchen didn’t back down, but she nervously teased one of her pigtails as the entire town eavesdropped on the conversation. “Mayor Desmond, maybe we should talk in private?”

Desmond ignored her, stomping a path to the dais and calling the meeting to order with a pound of his gavel. The man didn’t look so good. Suit wrinkled. Shoes and pants covered in streaks of white. Bird shit? Hell, tiny down feathers stuck in his hair.

Quint frowned. “Does anyone else think he looks like he just…fucked a chicken?”

Julian checked his card. “Anyone got that space?”

Tidus stared in horror. “God help us if we’d had the foresight to put chicken fucking on a Bingo card.”

The council members frowned, anxiously whispering.

“I motion that we terminate Gretchen Murphy’s employment immediately,” Desmond said.

Bonnie Horsden, oldest member of the Council and the least likely to stay awake for the entire meeting, ruffled through the papers at her desk. “I don’t think that’s on the agenda.”

“It’s not. I made the decision this afternoon.” Desmond thrust a furious finger in Gretchen’s direction and gritted his teeth. “Earlier this week, in the middle the night, my home was invaded by a swarm of drunken bridesmaids.”

Tidus wasn’t helping. “Were they eating birdseed too?”

Desmond ignored him. “They came in through my basement, climbed the stairs, and attempted to raid my wine cellar.”

The Widow Barlow thrust her cane at him. “You don’t have a wine cellar.”

“I do not. But I have some very old, aged balsamic vinegars. Which, to a drunken bachelorette party, must smell like cordial.”

It wasn’t a good week for Gretchen or her pride. She covered her face. “Mayor Desmond, I am so sorry. Let me explain.”

Tidus cupped his hands around his mouth and hissed at Gretchen. “Blame the bears!”

Desmond ignored him. “And while I’ll defy any man to admit that waking up to a half-naked, drunken, twenty-two-year-old redhead is not a welcomed experience, it was not the ideal fantasy of my wife.”

Quint leaned over. “Or his boyfriend.”

Cassi shushed him.

Mayor Desmond scowled. “This is the last time I suffer any tomfoolery, pranks, or drunken night-time invasions. Enough is enough.” His nostrils flared. “You will be held responsible for what happened the next morning.”

This would be good. The town leaned forward, eager to hear the rest of the story.

Hell, Gretchen should have been interested too. Not like she remembered that night.

She flinched. “What…did we do?”

“The feathers! The birds!” Mayor Desmond tore at his hair. “Those are my prized peacocks!”

Raymond raised a hand. “Are they up at Becky’s property too?”

Desmond thrust a finger at Gretchen. “Twinkle, Sprinkle, and Crinkle! Your dog chased my birds through my house, out the door, and down Main Street!”

Gretchen didn’t believe him. The dog had enough sense to hide under her chair.

“Ambrose?” she asked. “Are you sure?”

Desmond yelled. “Your crazy, bird obsessed dog traumatized my birds!”

Tidus raised a hand. My brothers unsuccessfully tried to silence him. “How exactly do you define traumatized in relation to peacocks?”

The mayor was not aware that Tidus asked his question facetiously. “They’re bald.”

“Bald?” Gretchen whispered.

“Like a Thanksgiving Day turkey.”

Tidus shrugged. “Then the work is done for you.”

Desmond howled. “I wasn’t going to eat them. They were my prized peacocks. Award-winning. They won the blue-ribbon this past county fair.”

Micah snorted. “Only because they were competing against our blind rooster and a cockatoo.”

The mayor continued, nearly driven to tears. “They molted. Completely. Lost all their feathers. My living room is covered in bird droppings. My wife is beside herself. We’ve been trying to keep them warm, but the knitting club is still out of commission after the gazebo incident. The only thing that fits them is my wife’s underwear, and she’s running out of panties.”

Tidus leaned over to whisper, but Quint interrupted him.

“You don’t even have to ask,” Quint said. “We're gonna see this shit for ourselves after the meeting.”

Mayor Desmond set his jaw. “And so, Gretchen Murphy. You are fired. And you’re damned lucky that I don’t have you arrested for trespassing and vandalism.”

Sheriff Samson hooted. “Come on, Mayor. Do you really think Elijah Murphy’s gonna let me arrest his daughter and his bride-to-be?”

“Fine,” he said. “She goes free…after you take her dog.”

The town went silent. A cold, unsettling chill quieted even the drunkest of the residents.

Gretchen seethed, reaching for her dog. “Excuse me?”

And that’s when Mayor Desmond made a terrible mistake. “The dog is a menace. He’s a danger to the town’s other animals and pets.”

“You’re not serious.”

“He molested and insulted my birds.”

“The only insult to your peacocks was what Chloe did with the feathers for my father.” She stepped a little closer, raised her chin, prepared for battle. “Ambrose doesn’t hurt birds. He’s trained to herd them. That’s all he does. It’s completely humane, and he knows not to attack anything. Not even a toy. Ambrose has never once hurt any other animal in this town.”

“He doesn’t need to bite to traumatize.” Mayor Desmond snapped a finger at Samson. “Sheriff, if you would…”

Gretchen nearly crumbled.

A tear crossed her cheek.

Absolutely not.

No one would make that beautiful woman cry, didn’t matter if he was the mayor of Butterpond or my commanding officer. A surge of adrenaline propelled me from my seat. Didn’t have a gun anymore, but my voice carried like a shot.

“Mayor Desmond.”

The town silenced. They flinched, turning to look at me. Just what I needed. More attention.

But I didn’t need two legs to act like a man. Just needed a pair of brass balls.

I held his gaze. “I believe Gretchen doesn’t remember what happened that night.”

Mayor Desmond’s raised hand silenced the whispers. “Mr. Payne, please. While we all thank you for your service and sacrifice, this has nothing to do with you.”

“Like hell.” I nodded to my family. All four of my brother stood behind me, arms crossed. The only thing we did better than fight was stick together. “Maybe she did go to your house. Maybe your birds did shit all over your living room. Maybe she did steal your tie.”

Desmond roared. “That’s where the Armani tie went?”

Whoops. I raised my chin. “But that night, Gretchen was also with me.”

Gretchen panicked. “Marius, don’t you dare.”

Oh, I dared. And she’d fall on her knees in gratitude when she realized what the hell I was doing.

“Gretchen came to see me. Checked on me. She’s real sweet, that girl. Cares about her veterans. She asked if she could do anything to help transition me back to civilian life.”

Gretchen covered her eyes. “Marius, I’m begging you…”

“And that’s when I told her that it had been tough to adjust. And after experiencing all that violence and bloodshed, after the accident, I needed a little comfort.”

Tidus hooted. “Hell yeah.”

I caught her gaze. “So, that’s when she gave me Ambrose.”

The town erupted in whispers again. Mayor Desmond’s mouth fell open.

Julian jumped to my defense. “Yeah. All the soldiers have dogs now. To help them cope.”

Gretchen trembled, but she was a smart girl. She stared at me, eyes glistening with tears. “That’s right. Ambrose is trained to be a therapy dog!”

I shrugged. “Exactly. A therapy dog. I sit on the couch, he jots down notes and charges me a hundred dollars an hour. Point is, Gretchen gave me the dog.” I gave him a sly smirk. “Now, if you want to be Mayor Hardass, the man who took a therapy dog from a wounded veteran who’d just returned home from service…”

Desmond knew better. He staggered backwards, nearly colliding with the five disapproving council members. “Absolutely not. Of course, he’s yours. I am absolutely committed to providing the utmost care, hospitality, and graciousness to all veterans.”

Sure, he was. Also knew how to secure votes for the upcoming election.

I patted my leg, but Ambrose didn’t leave Gretchen side until she nudged him with an elbow. I gave him a scratch behind the ears.

“I should get them home,” I said. “Don’t want him…rustling anymore feathers.” I jerked a thumb towards my family. “Give the award to my sister. I’ll get the ferocious beast out of this meeting.”

Ambrose followed me to the door. Gretchen breathlessly rushed into the night after us.

And then she burst into tears.

Couldn’t have that.

I reached for her hand, but she launched into my arms instead. Heavy, heartbreaking sobs sliced through me like shrapnel. I held her close, but she didn’t let me comfort her.

“Gretchen…”

She interrupted me with a hot, desperate kiss. I nearly fell backwards, lucky to strike the brick of the municipal building and not the cement of the sidewalk.

Fuck. This woman.

With a breathless gasp, her smile faded. The woman was a mystery, temptress, and storm wrapped up in a single kiss.

“I’ll never be able to thank you for what you did.” She bit her lip. I should’ve punished her for daring to hurt her perfect lip. “So, I’m going to ask you one question.”

“Anything.”

“Your place or mine?”