Lulah pulled up outside the VA Home on the outskirts of Halo Peak. Each Thursday afternoon, she visited the residents with Joker. The dog had an extraordinary ability to draw the best out in people and other dogs. His rescue a couple of years ago brought him to Dog Haven Sanctuary, their goal to train and rehome him. But at the end of most days, Lulah found herself taking Joker home rather than leaving him in the kennels.

When he’d completed his training, ready to go up for adoption, she kept finding another job for him to do. He specialized at bringing shy, nervous dogs out of their shell, which worked exactly the way it did with people. The running joke at the Sanctuary was that Lulah appeared to be the last one to realize that Joker would never go up for adoption, because she’d already given him a permanent spot in her life.

She hoped she wasn’t that dim when it came to men.

Lulah stopped at reception for a chat with the staff and soon released Joker who tugged at the leash, keen to get on with his duties. She finished her conversation and set off to find him, making her way along corridors, pausing at rooms and small garden patios to chat with the residents. To be honest, most of them wanted to see Joker, and she laughed about that with some of the old vets.

When their time was up, Lulah captured Joker and headed out to the parking lot. At the bottom of the main building steps, she saw Vince approaching along the path.

“Stalked by the UHT Guy. Awesome!” Total crap on a cracker, didn’t mean to say that out loud. Her blush was rare, but judging by the heat roaring up her cheeks, her face lit up like a beacon. At least Vince looked amused.

“Hi, Lulah. So stalked, huh?”

“Sorry, that popped out.”

“Have you left the gate open again?”

“Something like that.”

“Cattle out playing?”

“You know me…boundaries and stuff. Awkward moment, really.”

Vince nodded. “Sure.” He paused before adding, “Tell me, UHT Guy, what’s that exactly?”

“UHT Guy? Well, that’s how I sometimes refer to you. In my head. It’s like UPS Guy, but not so postal.”

“So…?”

“Give me a break; I’m squirming here, Vince.”

“Sorry, Lulah, I’m still working out my boundaries.”

“Oh, nice, now you’re stealing my excuses.”

“U-H-T…tell me?”

“You know what that means.”

Vince shook his head, the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Lulah made a surrender gesture with her hands. “Okay, it means Ultra Heat-Treated. Happy now?”

“Ultra. Heat. Treated.” He drew each word out as if testing it for the first time, putting the flourish on Lulah’s discomfort.

“Yeah.”

At some stage, he moved towards her, and now only inches separated them. He dipped his head close and took her attention. As she stared into those green-shaded eyes, he matched her for a few moments before speaking in a low voice. “Lulah.” He said her name and paused again. “Do you think I’m hot?”

His voice deepened more, and the way it rumbled through his chest seemed to charge the air trapped between them. He looked so sexy she nearly shuddered. Drawing a long careful breath, she inched forward a little, her head inclined upwards, closer to his lips. All the time, she remained hooked into his gaze, because doing that made a different sort of heat move through her. “No, Vince,” she replied in the sexiest bedroom-whisper she could muster. “I think you’re a stalker.”

He threw his head back and roared with laughter. She laughed with him. What a blast to see him happy after these past few days! When they’d recovered, Lulah asked, “Not my business, of course, but are you visiting someone or…?”

“It’s the ‘or’ part.”

“Uh-huh, so what’s that, exactly?”

“Lulah, your gate is still open.”

“I know; I’m teasing. If you’re coming around to play in the barn later, you’re welcome to stay on for dinner.”

“You can’t keep feeding me.”

“It’s okay, really.”

He flashed her a broad, melting smile. “I’ll stay if I can cook. Let me pick up something on my way over. I’ll cook, and you can finish your assignment.”

“What makes you think I haven’t finished it?”

“A twenty-dollar bet that you won’t take.”

“I don’t gamble.”

“Because you know you won’t win.” He reached up and gave her hair a quick tweak before taking the steps two at a time. “Later, Lulah.”

* * *

Lulah dialed her dad’s phone number. She always called him on a Wednesday. Now it was Thursday, and she struggled to make the call. To let another day slip by without phoning was tempting, but she had these few moments while Vince prepared dinner, and avoiding phoning her dad was out of character.

He picked up which was a good sign.

“How are you, Dad?”

“Lulah, I’m good.”

She thought he sounded cautious, but optimistic. Or maybe she was reading too much into it.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m getting along. Have you thought about—”

“Nothing’s changed, Dad.” God, was it going to be this again?

“Oh, well, I’ll manage. Maybe I can get a double-shift, though there’s not much work out there for someone my age.”

“Go back to your support group, Dad. Start working on the things they taught you and get some support from the experts.”

“Yeah, well, finding another job to pay off my debts is my first priority. Anyway, I guess you’re busy getting on with your life. Mustn’t hold you up. I’m due at work in ten.”

The spark of optimism had left him, and the final plea hung in his attempt at a brush-off.

“Dad, you know I can’t help you.”

“Sure. Remember I told you working with animals would never pay.”

He almost tricked her into saying it paid her enough to live off and save, but in the next breath she’d be asking him for bank details so she could transfer her savings. Not happening.

“I’ll call you next week. Love you, Dad.”

“I know,” he said, then disconnected.

She switched off her phone. He was good at that passive-avoidance thing he did, but he was also her father, and knew exactly how to put a guilt trip on her. That made it totally wrong for him to be manipulating her like this. At least he’d dropped his blood is thicker than water stance.

“Save me from thick-skulled men.” She opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of mineral water.

“I’ll finish cooking and be out of your way.”

“Not you, silly, my father.” She took the lid off the water bottle, and as she reached past Vince to top off his glass, their forearms brushed, and the jolt that light touch gave her was a static zap. “Sorry,” she said quietly, certain he must have felt it, too. The bewildering look he gave—filled with barely contained…anger? No, something else—stopped her breathing. That was hunger. God, the guy was married and trouble. Time to back off. She retreated to the counter on the other side of the small kitchen and hitched herself up.

Vince continued chopping for another minute before he put down the knife and walked to her, stopping only when they almost touched. His arms were spread wide, palms down on the counter to either side of her thighs. “Never apologize for touching me, Lulah.”

With a shrug, she tried to remain nonchalant, to settle the race of her heart. “You’re such a no-go zone, for so many reasons.”

That hunger hadn’t left his eyes, and she knew right at that moment he would kiss her. She also knew she should dip her head away, slip off the bench, duck under his arms, and find some safety at distance. But as his lips covered her mouth, hard and needy, she didn’t have a hope in hell of resisting.

His tongue slipped between her lips searching for her, and they entwined with a kind of one chance, only chance, desperation. Then they slowed, as it seemed the moment was timeless, stroking, exploring , sharing one breath. When one paused to pull away the other intensified and reignited the hard passion.

Vince had taken hold of her head, keeping her in place as he gentled his mouth , light strokes of her tongue, a tracing of her lips, and soft, searching explorations. Lulah slid her hands down the hard lines of the muscle of his back and gripped his hips.

In that instant, he pulled away, as if common sense became a mule that had given him a kick. He shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Lulah. I should never have done that. The PTSD…it makes me greedy and selfish. Sometimes I need to feel human.” Pain flashed in his eyes. “Today…shit.” He went back to the sink without finishing.

Phew, that was some kiss. “Today what, Vince?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, well, you see, it does. You just kissed me; it was nice. Better than nice. But you can’t take the physical bits, drop little emotional bombs, and walk off. That’s not how we do stuff around here.”

“It’s how it works for me.”

“I’m ignoring that. Something happened today; what was that?”

He turned his back on her and started chopping and deseeding a tomato. “My doctor, he wants me to go back on medication.”

“And you don’t want to?”

“No, not a bit. It stops me feeling, stops my creativity, kills my libido.”

“Your libido seems fine.”

He slipped her a little grin. “Because I’m not taking any meds. You have no idea what it’s like to be around you, knowing that under normal circumstances, I would be thinking all kinds of stuff that involves me, you, and not much clothing. But when I’m on those drugs, I don’t feel a thing.”

“Ah, you are married, remember?”

“Separated, but technically, there’s that, too. I’m a screw-up.”

“Vince, I want you to feel you can say what you want, tell me how you feel, but don’t expect me to agree with you. You’re not a screw-up. I let you batter your self-esteem a bit, because that’s human nature, but I won’t sit by and let you take a sledgehammer to it. Just so that we know where we stand here, I presume you’ve explained all of these things to your doctor.”

“Yeah, but he thinks we should be dealing with the other stuff first. The PTSD symptoms, nightmares, freak-outs. Everything’s going a bit crazy. Sometimes the freak-out is the only time I feel truly alive. When my body feels all tight and prepared. Not with a crazy battle-brain, just this immense strength. I feel like a predator about to go off on a hunt.”

“Whoa, that’s totally scary shit. I’m feeling some sympathy with your doctor right now.”

“I probably haven’t explained that too well.”

“You tried, and I appreciate that.”

She admired his speed with the food preparation, especially when he was no longer distracted by kissing her. Or trapping her on the counter top without even touching her. That kiss had been hot—everything she’d dreamed of when she’d allowed her mind to wander that far—and it had been wrong. Big, bad, sexy wrong. Now they were settled in a silence way too comfortable if she was going to be able to maintain a chaste distance, and she was pleased when Vince announced dinner was ready. She slipped off the counter and set the table.

Vince followed moments later with steaming bowls of chili con carne. “Dinner of champions,” he announced as he placed a dish in front of Lulah. “Tell me what you think.”

Seconds later, Lulah put her fork down, fanning her mouth. “Hot, Vince. Healthy, but hot.”

“Are you talking about me or the food?”

“Yeah, nice try but no catch.” He smiled right back at her, a smile as hot as the dinner he’d prepared.

“Tell me about Lulah growing up.”

“You don’t want to hear about that.”

“So why did I ask?”

“Okay. I’m an only child. We traveled all over because Daddy was a gambler. A really crap one.”

Vince looked up from his plate. “Crap at craps?”

“Precisely. He would do okay for a while, then lose the lot. Until I was seven, we actually had our own house, and I had a regular school and friends, the whole ice cream and topping. We even had vacations and a reliable car. One day I came home from school to find a truck backed up to the house, carting everything away. Mom shouted, and Dad wandered back and forth pretending everything was fine, as if this was exactly the way he intended that day to go. He’d lost everything. We shipped out, and I didn’t even have the opportunity to say goodbye to my friends.”

“Oh, nasty.”

“From that moment on, our life became a progression of rental accommodations, trailer parks, and bad motel rooms. We shifted from place to place. Sometimes we didn’t even stay long enough for me to be enrolled at school. Dad cruised from flush to broke, lucky to cursed, but always certain the big win sat on the horizon. Eventually, Mom had enough and took off with some guy. I received a birthday gift from her for the next couple of years, but I guess we either shifted one time too many or she lost interest. Not a thing for my tenth birthday, and I haven’t heard anything since.”

“That’s really rough. That sort of story is what makes me determined to be part of Gable’s life. Always. Whether she wants me there or whether she lives on the other side of the country, I’ll be there for her.”

Lulah smiled at him. “Good, make sure you are.”

Vince reached up and rubbed behind his neck. “It’s difficult right now. Taryn doesn’t want me to see her after the last, you know, event. I have to make some self-improvements before that happens. But I make Gable little drawings and cards and send them. They’re genuine; they’re from my heart, from the good part of me. I hope Taryn passes them on, but I can’t be sure.”

Vince’s eyes were filled with loss. “Is one of the stipulations for seeing Gable that you take your medication?”

He kept working at that spot behind his neck. “I guess. We haven’t discussed it fully, but I need to stay away until Taryn calms down a bit. Maybe I can ask a counselor or the chaplain from the VA to approach her on my behalf in a few weeks’ time. See if they can arrange a visit for me. I’m concerned if I stir things up, I’ll lose it. What do they call it? Emotional dysregulation? Fancy words for no fucking self-control. I can’t have that happening.”

“Is that what happens,Vince? Do you lose control?”

“I become anxious, I guess. If things start to amp up too far, the PTSD kicks in, and the situation quickly becomes messy. Problem is, that doesn’t happen every time. Sometimes I’m fine, and that’s almost worse. I can’t trust myself. It’s as though I’m living in a minefield because I don’t know if I’m going to blow with the next step, or not.”

“It must be hell.”

“It’s one of them.”

“One of them?”

“I have a lot of ‘hells’, Lulah. I’m best avoided.” He pushed his chair back and started to clear the plates. “Hope this didn’t burn too badly,” he added.

Lulah placed her hand over his wrist as he reached for her utensils. “Leave those. The chef never has to clear up. You haven’t had time in the barn yet. You go, and I’ll clear these away. Would you like me to bring you a coffee later?”

He nodded, and headed out the door. Lulah watched him cross the yard followed by Calliope who dropped in behind him, inches from his left knee, as soon as she noticed him head for the porch stairs.

Those little snippets he revealed tonight confirmed for her that Vince was in no-man’s land. She started clearing the dishes. Would it help Vince if he could gain some access to Gable or would he blow that again? In the end, the child had to be safe, and nobody knew how safe Vince was.

She left him for a couple of hours before taking him coffee and brownies she’d made the day before. “No chili in these, so I hope they’re hot enough for you. Is here okay?” she asked as she placed the tray on a clean area of the workbench.

Vince watched her from a place where he had a block of wood secured in a vise. In one hand, he held a chisel. “That’s kind of you. Thank you.”

“What are you making?”

“Something for Gable. This is the wagon I told you about. She was having so much fun playing with it so I’m going to fix it up for her.”

He had cleaned up the barn to make the workshop functional and comfortable, and Lulah went to the corner where he’d arranged a couple of armchairs and a small table near the window. She sat and noticed the view back up to her porch. Joker had followed her in and now lay on a rug beside a bed Vince had obviously crafted for Calliope. Heck, everything he touched was beautiful. She watched him carving, the muscles in his forearms all play and power beneath his tattoos.

“Don’t forget Mike from the service dog center is coming. Training will be more serious now. He’s bringing a couple of dogs who have almost finished training, and he’s going to help bring Calliope up to speed. He’ll be at the Sanctuary Monday morning, and so will you and Calliope, yeah?”

He kept his back to her when he spoke. “Did I agree to that?”

“Sure you did.”

“I don’t remember...”

“Blame the medication.”

“I’m not taking my medication.”

“Perhaps you should.”

Vince dropped the sanding block on the workbench and took a step towards her, making her shift more upright in the armchair. “So you think Zombie-Vince is preferable to this?”

“Yeah.” She paused. “No, I doubt it.”

“Sure about that?” He took another step.

She could hardly breathe, and if he came much closer, her heart would stop. “I’m not sure about anything right now,” she said softly. She and Vince had hung out on occasion for months. But whatever happened between them recently changed their casual friendship, and suddenly, any time she was in his vicinity, the air became scarce and her heart jumped about like that of a hunted rabbit.

There was still space between Vince and the door, and staying with the rabbit thing, she jumped to her feet and called Joker.

“Lulah, wait.”

Oh, hell.

“I go to the Farmers Market each Saturday. Why don’t we go together?”

Yeah, why not? The Farmers Market would be perfectly safe, not a date, just a shopping trip. “Nice idea, let’s do that.”

“Good, I’ll pick you up at nine.”

“Sounds perfect. Good night, Vince.”

“Sleep tight, Lulah.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. Sleep was unlikely, at least until she settled herself.