ANDY GLANCED OVER AT THE dog curled up in the passenger seat beside her. He watched her, his dark-brown eyes glued to her face as if he was afraid if he closed them, she’d disappear. He’d been doing that since she came back with the woman with the paw print smock to spring him from jail. The woman had clipped the leash onto the dog’s collar and handed it to Andy all without stating the obvious—the dog she was walking out with was not the dog she’d come in for. This one wouldn’t guard anything but ankles and she couldn’t even be sure about that. Hell, she was going to have to make sure he stayed close to the house so she didn’t have to protect him from the coyotes.

“You can relax, you know,” she said, dividing her attention between the dog and the road. “We’re stuck with each other now.”

Keeping one hand on the wheel, she reached over to stroke the dog’s soft ear. He leaned into her touch, stitching them closer together. When she took her hand away so she could signal the turn into the parking lot at the farm supply store, he let out a whimper that tightened the bonds. She could get used to someone who wanted to be with her without needing anything other than her love in return. Someone who didn’t ask questions or care about her past or why she did what she did. Even if that someone was a short little dog who needed a boost to get into her truck and was willing to trade his affection for food. The arrangement worked for her. She’d even let him sleep with her the first night.

“You’re going to need a bath.”

She put the truck in park and glanced over to see him watching her again. She was projecting—she knew she was—but she couldn’t help but think some of the apprehension in his expression had shifted to eagerness. Leaving him in the truck while she went inside to get his food felt unnecessarily cruel, not when he’d been left before by people who were supposed to love him. His previous owners turned him in at the pound citing “life changes” as the reason, despite insisting he was good with both children and other animals.

She hoped life changes meant someone was dying and not he just became too inconvenient. Either way, she couldn’t stand the idea of the little guy being led away from an owner he probably loved and locked in the kennel without any idea what he’d done wrong or if his person was ever coming back.

“Don’t worry,” she said, dragging him across the bench seat and into her arms. She squeezed his barrel-shaped body against her, ignoring the odor of disinfectant and too many dogs that clung to his short fur. “I’m not going to leave you.”

He wiggled in her arms, getting into the spirit of things, and planting his paws on her shoulders so he could lick her face. Making a spur-of-the-moment decision, she pressed a kiss to the top of his head before nudging him gently off her lap. He whined in protest until she put the truck in gear and started moving again. She pulled up to the loading dock on the side of the building, rolled down her window and waited for one of the guys who worked out back to come help her.

“Hey, Andy, got your ticket?” asked Kyle, holding out his hand for the sales ticket she didn’t have.

“Actually, I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

She hit Kyle with her best smile. He was attractive in a rugged, slightly redneck kind of way—like a country-western song come to life. He’d been flirting with her for as long as she’d been coming there. In the beginning his attention seemed hopeful, but after time when it became clear the fresh meat in town wasn’t interested in dating, it had slipped into something more comfortable. Friendly. She just hoped he liked her as much as she thought he did.

“Sure. What do you need?” He sounded more wary than certain but he leaned an arm on her open window and didn’t say no.

Hopefully, he was imagining something bigger than what she was going to ask him for, making it easier for him to say yes. Before she could make her request, the dog let out a growl low in his throat.

“Hey, knock it off,” she said, scowling at him.

He’d wedged his furry little body against the passenger side door, as far away from Kyle as he could get. Instead of cowering, he had his gaze locked on the man as if he were anticipating his next move. One that might include teeth.

“Easy, killer.” She reached across the seat, offering the dog her hand. He licked her fingers and stopped growling, but she could still feel the tension vibrating through his small body. “He’s actually the reason for the favor.” Kyle had taken his arm off her truck and stepped back. She smiled at him again, hoping she looked friendly and not crazy but willing to play it either way if it got her where she needed to be. “I need food for Cujo here and I don’t want to leave him alone in the truck. We’re on our way home from the pound and as you can see, he’s a little worked up.” She pulled her hand away from the dog, who let out a noise somewhere between a howl and a growl. “I’m afraid if I leave him alone, he’ll tear up my truck,” she said, going for currency Kyle would understand. “Could you call the register and ask them to charge a fifty-pound bag of dog food to my account so I don’t have to go inside? Please?”

“They hate it when I do that,” he said, still not saying no.

She understood. If everyone started to bypass the counter and signing for purchases, things were bound to get missed.

“It’s just this one time. I promise.” As if on cue, the dog let out another whine-growl and she saw Kyle make up his mind.

“Just this once,” he said, reaching for the radio clipped to his belt.

––––––––

“YOU KNOW IF this farming thing doesn’t work out, we could take to the road,” Andy said when they were back on their way to Sourwood, a bag of dog food on the bed of the truck. “Maybe make our way as grifters or something. Your timing’s perfect.”

The dog sat on his side of the seat, panting happily now that the threat of the feed salesman was gone. It was funny. He hadn’t shown any sign of aggressiveness toward her and nothing at the pound. The woman who’d helped her with his adoption made a special point to mention he was good with cats and other animals. She’d certainly have mentioned it if he had aggressive tendencies. The poor guy had a long day. He must be stressed. As if to reinforce her thoughts, he plopped his head down on his paws, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment before opening them again to make sure she was still there. When they drifted shut the next time, they stayed closed longer.

Something about Kyle must have rubbed the furry guy the wrong way. He’d finally given in to sleep, and at the moment, the only thing vicious about him was the snoring. Hustling was too close to her old life anyway. She’d stick with farming for as long as the money held out, which, unless she went out of her way to make stupid decisions, would be a very long time. The substantial fortune she’d amassed working at Bench and Stern never really felt like hers. And after Millie and her husband, it felt like blood money. She hadn’t forgiven herself for the things she’d done and doubted she ever would. That wasn’t her goal, but if she could do some good for other people while she was around, maybe she could atone. She had things set up in a trust so the farm would keep going long after she was gone.

She made the turn onto the gravel lane leading to the farm’s entrance and the etched metal sign with a spray of almost lily of the valley-like flowers that read Sourwood Farm. Over the years, her feelings about the place had shifted from guilt and apprehension to a sense of home. Despite her hair shirt intentions. Driving past the sign and down the lane to the old farmhouse filled her with a peace she didn’t deserve but one she cherished nonetheless.

“Come on, baby. We’re home.” She put the truck in park and hurried around to the passenger’s side so the dog wouldn’t think she’d left him. Scooping up his warm, wriggling body, she gave him a squeeze and planted a kiss on the top of his soft, furry head before setting him on the ground. She stood and turned, gasping when she came face-to-face with Liam.

“Who’ve you got..?” he asked, the rest of his question cut off by the low, menacing growl coming from her feet. “Easy, big guy.” Liam bent over, offering the dog the back of his hand to sniff.

The dog backed up until he hit Andy’s shins and then he dropped down, planting his butt on her feet. Keeping his gaze locked on the man in front of him, he kept up a steady rumble, only lowering his volume slightly when Liam stood and backed up a step.

“His name is Otter Fox, and you’re scaring him,” she said, ignoring for the moment the dog might be picking up on the way her heart started to race every time the Viking got within reach of her.

“Otter Fox?” His smile curved his full lips, giving his face a wicked expression—like he had plans he had no intention of sharing.

Her pulse kicked up another notch, and the dog pressed himself tighter to her legs.

“He’s the one growling at me. I should be the one terrified,” Liam said, keeping his hands at his side.

Honestly, the man oozed bad ass. She doubted he could look non-threatening if he tried.

“Is he named after some kind of Beatrix Potter character?”

“No,” she said, ignoring the tug her ovaries gave at the fact that he knew enough about the author of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle to ask the question. “He came with the name, but I think it suits him.” It did too. He had a kind of wriggling otter body and the rusty coloring of a fox over his shoulders and back. “You have some kind of Peter Rabbit fetish?” It felt good to tease him for a change.

“My fetishes don’t run in the bunny direction,” he said, letting enough heat slide into his voice to make her wonder what direction they did run.

“You’re not expecting him to guard the goats, are you?” he asked, drawing her out of her lust-filled haze.

“Of course not,” she said, saying a quick silent prayer that he wouldn’t ask her why she’d gotten the little dog.

I saw him and had to bring him home because I love him was exactly the kind of answer to get her laughed at. Besides, she didn’t need to explain herself to anyone, especially not to the guy who might not be around much longer. Not that he showed any sign of leaving. Not that she wanted him to go.

“Isn’t there somewhere you need to be?” she asked, knowing full well there wasn’t, but wanting a way to get him to move along. He took up too much space and made it hard for her to think clearly. All of her best-laid plans seemed to fade when she stared into his ice-blue eyes. It was dangerous.

He reached out to stroke a finger over her cheek and Otter Fox turned up the volume on his growl. She fought to keep from leaning into Liam’s touch, grateful at the moment for the weight of the dog pinning her feet in place.

“I can find something to do,” he said, letting his voice drop so she had to pay attention to hear what he was saying. “But I haven’t forgotten we have unfinished business. I’m not going to let you forget it either.” He leaned in, his lips brushing her cheek. At their feet, the dog’s growling ramped up to something that at least sounded menacing. “Easy, little man,” Liam said, taking a step back. “I’m not going to hurt your mistress, and before this is over, you and I are going to be friends.”

He grabbed the bag of food from the back of the truck and headed into the house, leaving her standing there with a growling dog on her feet. Both of them watched his receding form, although she had a feeling she paid more attention to the way the muscles of his shoulders bunched—and to the way his jeans hugged his ass—than Otter Fox did.

The screen door banged closed after Liam, and she glanced down at the dog, who gave one last growl for good measure. Liam might be the only thing the furry guy could protect her from and she had a feeling even that was a lost cause. Especially since she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she wanted protection. Part of her—mostly her lady parts—wanted to surrender to the tension building between them and see what happened when it finally broke.

“Well, we sure showed him,” she said, nudging her feet free of his furry butt. “Let’s go see what Millie’s up to. You can try your paws at charming her out of some corn bread.”

––––––––

LIAM WAS STILL smiling to himself when he finally made it to the shed where Jake was parking the tractor. Andy had gone to the pound to get a guard dog and come back with what looked like an artificially shortened beagle. The little guy was cute, even if he did literally put himself between Liam and the woman who was taking up an increasingly large piece of real estate in his head. It was okay. It would take more than an Otter Fox to throw him off his game. He was going to get Andy alone later and spend some quality time exploring whatever this thing was between them. He was tired of waiting and he was pretty sure if he left things up to her, she’d find a way to dance away from him until they ran out of time. In the meantime, he could make himself useful and do what he’d come to the farm to do.

“Hey there,” he said, raising his voice just enough to be sure Jake heard him approaching so he didn’t startle the younger man. It was hard to know what triggered someone. Without knowing the story, it didn’t always make sense. He’d known guys for whom something as ordinary as driving on a dirt road was enough to fling them back into the hell they’d come from. It was just easier to eliminate as many variables as possible. He still hated the way Jake cringed at the sound of his voice.

“Hey yourself,” said Jake, schooling his expression.

He shut down his emotions so quickly, Liam would have missed the flash of fear if he hadn’t been watching for it. Jake went back to screwing around with something on the tractor, and Liam paused for a moment. It was the third or fourth time that day he’d been dismissed by someone. It was starting to become a thing. If he was inclined to second-guess himself, he’d be wondering if it was something he’d done.

“I thought maybe if you were done with the plowing, we could go grab a beer and talk.”

It would be the first time they’d left the farm together. He had a feeling it might be the first time Jake left the farm since coming there, but it had to happen sooner or later. The change of scenery might make it easier for them to talk. The younger man was holding a lot of shit inside. If he wasn’t careful, it would eat at him from the inside out. Liam had some personal experience with the concept.

“I ought to check the hydraulics.”

“It will be there tomorrow. Come on.” He layered his voice with the tone he’d used when he’d commanded Jake’s unit.

He could tell by his expression that the younger man didn’t want to comply but old training died hard. There was a reason they drilled that shit into enlistees.

By the time they made the walk back to the farmhouse and his SUV, Liam’s leg picked up its familiar ache. It was okay. When they got to the bar, he’d wash a handful of ibuprofen down with his IPA. Assuming there was a bar within easy driving distance. He should have thought to ask one of the other guys where the nearest place was. He thought he remembered seeing a place in the small town he’d come through on the way to the farm. At a bare minimum, there had to be somewhere to grab something to eat. It was the change of scenery that was important, not the alcohol. Although the chemical relaxant didn’t hurt either, at least in moderation.

He made it to the end of the lane without hitting any of the ruts—Andy could use a load of gravel—and turned toward the town. The farther they got from the sign for the farm, the tighter Jake’s grip got on the armrest. Liam was debating whether he’d made a mistake dragging him away from the farm when the black sedan roared past them without even bothering to slow down. It moved too fast for Liam to get a clear read of the plates, but something about the car wormed its way around the back of his brain. It was a normal Mercedes. Unusual for out in the country but not exceptionally rare.

The tinted windows were out of the norm but not so far out. It sure as hell hadn’t seemed like the driver of the car was the least bit interested in them. The car had been going so fast when it passed, he doubted whoever was driving had even noticed them, and the Mercedes hadn’t hung around afterward to see where they were going. Although in all honesty, the road pretty much only went one place. It wasn’t like there were a lot of communities between the farm and the town. It was probably just some asshole passing through, looking for a chance to see what his expensive car could do. If they were lucky, the local cops would catch them and give them a come to Jesus meeting with a fine large enough to fund some municipality services.

They drove the rest of the way in silence—the uncomfortable kind, not the companionable type. This conversation definitely needed beer. He pulled the SUV into a gravel lot in front of a single-story building with windows lit by neon beer signs. When he pulled open the door, he blinked for a moment against the lack of light, giving his eyes a moment to adjust. He hated dark bars. It was part of the job. They were fine once his eyes had a chance to adjust, but the momentary night blindness made him nervous. Vulnerable. He felt a thin ribbon of adrenaline weave through his system. His mind knew there wasn’t anything to be afraid of in the tiny small-town hangout, but it didn’t stop his body from responding to the imagined danger. He felt Jake come up short behind him and knew he must be feeling a similar sensation.

“I saw a pirate thing on MythBusters,” he said, taking a step inside the room but pausing to let them both get their bearings. Being silhouetted in the doorway—the fatal funnel—was worse than standing in the dark, even if the only threat to them at the moment was greasy fries and watered-down drinks. “They tested the idea that pirates wore eye patches so one eye stayed adjusted to the dark.” He was rambling but he could feel the tension rolling off Jake in waves. If he kept talking, maybe he’d relax.

“I saw that one too. I still think it’s bullshit,” said Jake, taking another step into the room.

“Probably. It’s damned inconvenient either way.” Liam led the way to a booth on the far side of the wall, nodding to the pretty blonde behind the bar on the way.

There were two guys holding up the scuffed bar but it was late for lunch and early for dinner so they had the place mostly to themselves.

“What can I get you guys?” asked the bartender, slapping vinyl-covered menus down on the scarred wood tabletop. She put a little extra effort into her smile and Liam imagined she didn’t get that many patrons she didn’t know better than she wanted to. Small-town bartenders couldn’t help but be in everybody’s business. It was the nature of the job.

“I want a cheeseburger, medium rare, fries, and a Rolling Rock draft. And the check,” he said, wanting to get that one check thing out of the way before Jake ordered. He still had no idea how Andy afforded the stipend she paid the vets, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be much, and Jake was going to need every dime he could get to rebuild his life.

“I’ll have the same,” he said so fast, Liam wondered for a moment if he’d ordered what he actually wanted or if he didn’t care. Not caring was dangerous. It was the same thing as not engaging.

“How long are you planning on staying at the farm?” Liam asked after the pretty blonde dropped off their beers.

“How long are you?”

Liam saw the flash of something that looked like panic in the other man’s eyes but he covered it fast with the smart-ass crack.

“Fair point,” said Liam, raising his bottle in mock toast. “Do you want me to get out of your way?”

“Hell, no,” said Jake fast enough to convince Liam he was telling the truth. “I’m just surprised you can take this much time away from work is all.”

“I’m kind of on a forced vacation.”

“You got fired?” Jake asked, the crease in his brow clear even in the dim light.

“No,” Liam said, letting out his breath in a huff. “A case I was involved with is getting ready to go to trial. My boss wanted me to lay low until things quieted down.”

“You’re not worried about it following you here?”

“I wouldn’t have come to Sourwood if I was.” He wouldn’t have done anything to put Andy in danger before he met her. Now that he knew her, the last thing in the world he’d do was take a chance with her safety. “I was a very minor player. My boss is exercising an abundance of caution. Actually, that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, taking a swallow of his beer. “Have you thought about what you want to do?” He left off the with the rest of your life. That was too damn much pressure for someone in a better mental state than Jake. Better to baby step it until the rest fell into place.

“My goals don’t extend beyond sleeping through the night,” Jake said with a surprising bit of candor.

“Night terrors are a bitch.” It was the understatement of the century but the absurdity of the statement was enough to get a laugh from Jake.

“How long did yours last?”

“A long fucking time. It took a lot of damn therapy and a lot of damn time.” He shook his head, remembering for a moment the way it felt to not be able to trust his sleep. His subconscious had been the worst enemy he’d ever fought, waiting for him to drop his guard at night and then replaying every horrific thing he’d lived through in Technicolor. “I’m not sure it ever goes away completely, but it does get better. Easier,” he said, catching and holding the other man’s gaze. Jake locked onto him like he was gripping a lifeline. In some ways, he was; knowing someone who’d walked through the hell before you didn’t necessarily make things easier but it made it possible to believe things could change. When hope was a microfilament thread, sometimes that was the only thing standing between despair and possibility.

“You seriously went to a therapist?”

“Fuck yes. What? You think I set my broken leg by myself? Did you put the pins in your knee on your own?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Jake shook his head and took a long pull on his beer.

“You think it’s less stupid to try to deal with the stuff going on in your head on your own?”

“I don’t want to spill my guts to a guy with a tie and an office and no idea what it’s like to be out there.” He set the bottle down too hard and had to grab it when it started to rock over.

“I don’t blame you.” He’d done the same I can fix it on my own routine. In the end, it had been Gabe who held his feet to the fire until he got some help and then gave him a job that made him feel like he had purpose again. “So find a guy who knows what it’s like, but you’ve got to talk to someone. Get that shit out before it eats you alive.”

He paused long enough to let the bartender set their food in front of them.

“Listen,” he said, after she left again. “I get the desire to muscle through it. Believe me, I do, but your head is way more complicated than your leg. That’s mostly mechanical. And you’d never try to handle those injuries by yourself. I can give you the name of the guy who helped me.”

Liam took a huge bite of his burger and waited for Jake to speak. He’d said what he could; it was up to the other guy to decide whether to take the steps toward healing or not. No one, not even a good therapist, would be able to do that for him. In the end, the rest of them were guides—Sherpas maybe—but despite his talk about getting help, Jake was the one who had to do the work. But he didn’t have to do it alone. He wouldn’t, not as long as Liam was around.

“Okay.” Jake gave a curt nod before picking up his burger and digging in the way only a guy in his twenties could.

It only took a handful of bites for him to demolish the burger and moved on to the mountain of fries he’d doused in too much ketchup. Liam remembered eating like that a lifetime ago. He smiled to himself and then decided to take a chance. He couldn’t bust Jake’s balls for not dealing with his shit if he wasn’t willing to man up himself. Although asking a couple of questions wasn’t on the same planet as what the younger man was going through.

“So, what’s Andy’s story?” he asked, trying to sound casual and, from the expression on Jake’s face, failing.

The younger man paused in the annihilation of his fries to shoot him a cocky grin.

“You mean is she seeing anyone?” he asked, doing the worst imitation of a New Jersey housewife Liam had ever heard.

“Fuck off.” Liam took a swallow of beer, smiling in spite of himself. He ate a couple of fries and gave the other man a chance to work the laughter out of his system while he waited for an answer to the question he hadn’t asked.

“Naw, man, as far as I know, she’s single. Honestly, she never goes anywhere but the feed supply store and into town. I can’t see her hooking up with one of the guys around here.”

Liam bit back his grin. He’d assumed Andy was on her own, although God only knew why a woman like that was alone. But it was nice to have his suspicions confirmed. He glanced up and caught Jake watching him, looking like he was trying to puzzle his way through things.

“What?” he asked, when it was clear the other man wasn’t going to talk.

“Nothing.” He turned his attention back to a fry barely visible under the weight of all the ketchup. “It’s just...”

“Yes?”

Jake took a deep breath as if he was preparing to make some kind of announcement. “Andy’s a good person. She’s one of those people who leave the world better than they found it.”

Liam nodded. People had thanked him for his service and gone on about how soldiers protected everyone’s freedom. All that was true but it was a lot easier to see the tangible evidence of Andy’s work. She hadn’t had to walk a gray line to do what she did. There was no moral ambiguity in her life.

“I’m not trying to get in your way. She could probably use a good time. She sure as hell deserves one.”

Jake took a swallow of his beer and Liam wondered why the idea of being nothing more than Andy’s good time sat so uneasily with him. He wasn’t looking for anything serious. He didn’t have room for it, but he didn’t like the idea of being disposable to the sexy farmer. There was no way in hell he’d put a name on it, but he wanted more than a one-night stand.

“Just make sure you don’t hurt her.” Jake pinned him with a gaze Liam didn’t have any problem meeting.

“Not a problem.” Whatever happened between him and Andy, he’d go out of his way to make sure he didn’t hurt her. That he left things better than he found them.