EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK

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Today was the day that just might break him.

It could have come at any point in the last weeks or months since his son had died serving his country. Every day that passed had added another ballast stone of grief and despair. Another pound of excruciating weight pressing down on the delicate framework holding what remained of his family together.

Bowing it.

Stretching it to its very limits.

But today’s stone, bearing the burden of a twenty-first birthday that would never come, could be what finally shattered the whole damaged thing into tiny, unmendable pieces.

The possibility sent a familiar twist through David Winchester’s gut as he stood in the open doorway to his son’s room. The one his wife wouldn’t allow a single thing to be touched in. Couldn’t even bear to enter. Or have others go into.

Not even him.

Which was why he stood there now, in the moonlit dark of the early hours after midnight. Not wanting to upset Carol any more than today was already going to rip at her. But wanting—no, needing to be there. In the place his boy had grown from sweet child to inquisitive teen to compassionate young man. The place that enshrined his life, rather than his death.

That place they’d visit in the morning. So Nicole could lay flowers on it as she wished her big brother a happy birthday.

“Damn it, Mikey.” Swallowing back the bitter grief threatening to roll up his throat like a molten tide, he stepped into the room.

Guided by memory and moonlight, he walked past the neatly made bed to the battered oak desk set against the wall. The one Mikey had done his homework on. Built model cars and airplanes and rockets on. Poured over books and watched countless hours of online videos on, learning everything he could about how to care for injured animals.

“That damn rabbit,” he murmured, running his fingers over the uneven spots where years of model glue mishaps had marred the desk’s surface. Mikey’s focus had shifted the day he brought the bunny with the lame leg home and declared he was going to help it get better. He’d gone from wanting to build things, to wanting to fix them.

No, needing to.

It was like some switch had been thrown inside him, deep in his DNA. Showing him exactly what it was he wanted to do with his life. Who he wanted to be.

Who he was meant to be.

Heady epiphany for a ten-year-old to have. But like everything else in his life, Mikey accepted it and moved forward with absolute confidence. That was one thing his boy hadn’t lacked an ounce of. Neither had he been short on compassion.

Actually, he might have possessed a bit too much of it.

Which was how they’d ended up with a mini wildlife hospital in their garage. And why Mikey spent his summers mowing the lawns of not one, but three of their elderly neighbors for free. And why he’d taken all the money he saved for a car and donated it to Make a Wish for a local kid diagnosed with cancer to go to Disney.

And why they’d be laying flowers on his grave today instead of lighting candles on his cake.

The grief made another burning appearance in his throat. This time, he let it come. Let the fiery tears form and spill as a soft, pain-filled sob escaped along with them.

His son. His boy.

God, it still didn’t seem real.

Standing in this room, untouched by time since his last visit home on leave, it was almost possible to pretend it wasn’t.

But he’d seen the body. Watched the casket lowered into the cold, hard ground. Listened to the lonely echo of Taps as it stretched out over the endless field of white stones lined in precise rows of military attention.

Mikey was gone. Really and truly gone.

And somehow, they all had to find a way to go on without him. To make sense of his loss, his sacrifice, and the almost immeasurable hole he’d left behind. Not only in their family, although god knew that one was fucking cataclysmic. But in the world itself.

A world Mikey would have made a much better place. Not just by his mere presence in it, but because he’d been bound and determined to make sure it was one. Better. Safer. Happier. One simple act of selflessness and compassion at a time.

Too bad that’s what got him killed.

The hushed dark of the room and its lingering cobweb of memories were suddenly suffocating. He escaped, the door closing behind him with a quiet click of finality.

Maybe Carol had been right to let sleeping ghosts lie.

Socks shushing whisper soft on the smooth hardwood floor, he went to the kitchen sink, where he stood in a puddle of moonlight spilling through the window to the backyard. He grabbed a glass and filled it, downing the tepid water in an effort to settle both his stomach and his head.

And wished it was something stronger.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, he shoved it out again. Dipping into the bottle of scotch in the top cabinet wouldn’t do anything except give him a wooly head in the morning. And give Carol a reason to pull away from him even further than she already had if she woke up and smelled it on his breath when he got back into bed.

He loved his wife. His heart ached at how hard their son’s death was hitting her.

But he also resented her for it, too.

Just a little.

Because the anger and grief which formed a protective shell around her heart didn’t just hinder her grieving process by keeping her emotions in. Choking her on them. It also kept both him and Nicole out. Stopped them from all grieving together, as a family.

Sometimes it didn’t just feel like he’d lost a son.

It was like he’d lost his wife as well.

Like he’d lost everything.

Maybe even a piece of himself.

Fuck it.

No way was he falling back to sleep with that thought in his head. Not without a little help.

As he snapped on the small pendent light over the sink, the sound of Sadie’s tags jingled up the stairs from the basement where they’d set up the whelping den for her and her litter. Looking sleepy and confused, the golden retriever padded over to him. She head-butted his leg in greeting, then leaned against it as he gave her soft ears an indulgent rub.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, Sadie-girl,” he said softly, then chuckled at the groan of ecstasy he got when his fingers hit just the right spot. “Yeah, you don’t care, do you? Not when there’s an ear rub to be had. And a treat.” He turned the last word into a question.

One Sadie knew well. Abandoning her ear rub, she pranced over to where her snacks were kept and looked back at him, feathery tail swishing in anticipation.

He chuckled again. “That’s what I thought.”

After choosing her favorite peanut butter-flavored treat from one of the plastic containers in the bottom cabinet, he said, “Sit.” When Sadie’s furry butt plopped obediently to the hardwood, he almost said shake.

But something made him say, “Salute” instead.

After a brief hesitation, probably because she hadn’t heard the command in a while, Sadie brought her right paw up into the air near her head. It was more of a high-five, really. But Mikey had taught her the trick when he’d come home after boot camp three years ago, and it had made him laugh. So as far as David was concerned, it was a damn salute.

“Good girl.” The words came out husky as he fed her the treat, which she took off to devour in the corner.

More than ready for his own treat, he opened an upper cabinet, pulled the whiskey bottle from the top shelf, and splashed a small amount into his water glass. The smokey scent of fire and peat filled his nose as he took the first sip.

It was a decent label, but still burned all the way down to his belly.

From there, the heat spread in all directions like branch lightning, all jagged and bright, warming places he hadn’t realized were so cold. Eyes closed, he savored the sensation for a long moment.

Damn, but it felt good to feel warm again. Like a comforting hug from the inside.

It was an illusion, of course.

All of that comfort and calm would be gone come morning, leaving behind only the same aching pressure of loss as before. But for tonight, for right this minute, it was exactly what he needed. To get to sleep. To get past the grief.

To get through the never-ending guilt that came with outliving your child.

That. That was the heaviest stone in the load to bear.

One even the grief counselor they were seeing hadn’t been able to help him deal with. To live with. Because there were days when the thought of going on living without his boy seemed almost impossible.

But he had no choice. His daughter needed him.

Needed both of them.

But until Carol could find her way past the wall she’d built inside herself, it was up to him to help Nicole navigate something no fifteen-year-old should ever have to.

Any more than a parent should.

His arm came up again, this time to gulp, not sip. But before the glass reached his mouth, a sharp pain in his little toe made him jerk in surprise.

“What the fuck!”

The last thing he expected was to see one of Sadie’s puppies latched onto his sock. Its needlelike teeth made another prick on his toe as it tugged again, chunky little retriever body wriggling with delight at its prize.

Wincing, he crouched down and gently disengaged the pup’s bear-trap grip.

“How the hell did you get up here?”

He looked around, half expecting to see the other seven puppies making their own break for it from the basement. Luckily, this seemed to be the only escapee. Cooper, according to the color-coding system they used on the collars to tell the pups apart.

Thank God. The last thing he needed was to be corralling a herd of recharged little speed demons through the house in the middle of the night.

Just as it was about to lunge for the sock again, he put the glass down and scooped the puppy into his arms.

“Oh no you don’t.” Instantly, Cooper changed targets and started furiously licking his nose instead, filling his next breaths with the unique scent of puppy spit.

Before the licks could turn to nibbles, because they definitely would, he shifted his hold so the dog couldn’t reach his face anymore. Which he wiped as best he could on the sleeve of his tee with a grimace.

“Okay, it’s back to bed for you, pal. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

A vivid memory of saying almost the same thing to Mikey when he was about four or five echoed in his head. He’d snuck out of his bedroom on Christmas Eve because he said he’d heard Santa and wanted to catch him leaving presents.

Who he’d almost caught was David, with Mikey’s big-boy two-wheeler he’d just taken out of hiding in the basement. Only the fact Mikey had those Spiderman slippers, the rubber-soled ones that squeaked like sneakers on a gym floor with every step, had given enough warning to head off disaster.

Much like Mikey, the puppy put up a whiny protest about being sent back to bed. Small whimpers erupted when David walked toward the stairs, alarmingly loud in the thick quiet that blanketed the house.

“Shh, stop that before you wake up your littermates.”

Or Carol. Then he’d have to explain why he was wandering around at one in the morning. 

Guilt tickled his gut as he glanced at the scotch on the counter.

Okay, maybe he wouldn’t have to explain.

Which was actually worse.

Turning from the basement stairs, he gave the pup a gentle squeeze. “Fine, you win. Just be quiet, okay? You can stay up a little while longer, just until you get sleepy.” Which for puppies could be anywhere from five hours to five seconds flat. This was Sadie’s third litter, so he was getting pretty savvy as to how they worked. But sometimes there were still things that caught him by surprise.

Like how a 3-month-old chonker like Cooper had managed to get past the board blocking the doorway downstairs only Sadie should have been able to hop over.

“Maybe we should have named you Houdini instead of…”

Instead of after one of the men Mikey had died trying to save.

Pain won out over guilt, sending him straight for the scotch. As soon as he reached for the glass, though, Cooper took the opportunity to squirm in his loosened grasp, little legs kicking in an effort to get down.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’ve already proven you’re a runner. You’re staying right where you are, pal.”

But squirmy puppies were just as hard to hang onto as squirmy kids. Both required a two-handed grip. Leaving him SOL about the drink.

Probably for the best, anyway.

He’d spent a lot of nights right after the funeral staying up late, wandering the house or staring out the window. Just him, his whiskey, and his thoughts. Too many nights.

Too many whiskeys.

Too easy to slip into old habits of self-medicating himself to sleep.

Turning his back on temptation, he slowly paced the perimeter of the kitchen, rocking the puppy in rhythmic cadence to his steps. The same way he’d walked with Nicole when she’d had an ear infection and couldn’t stop crying, And Mikey when he had five of his baby teeth all coming in at the same time, making him so miserable they hadn’t thought he’d ever sleep again.

Or that they would.

It had been a long time, but somehow his body still remembered. The speed. The sway. The soft flow of words meant to distract and calm. It all came flooding back. Along with the reminder of why this puppy, this litter, was so different from the others.

So important.

“You don’t know it yet, but you’re going to be doing big things, little man,” he crooned softly as he walked and swayed. “You, Bailey, and Samson. All of you will be helping out some very special people who need a hand adjusting to their new lives. Or maybe it would be a paw.” He grinned when the pup yawned. “Yeah, Mikey felt the same way about my dad jokes.”

The kids had loved them when they were little. Not so much when they’d gotten older and outgrown the silliness of the puns and groanworthy punchlines.

“Everyone just grew up so damn fast. I miss when we all spent the weekends as a family. Going to the beach. Playing board games. Making s’mores in the backyard. They were young for like a minute, then, poof! They’re all grown up, off doing their own grown-up things. Driving. Dating. Joining the army and heading off to the other side of the world.”

Dying.

He stopped, throat tightening, making it hard to breathe.

“Damn it. I miss him so fucking much.”

The puppy whimpered, as though tuning in to his emotions. Face pressed against the warm, soft fur, he breathed through the unexpected pocket of grief. Listening to the steady beat of Cooper’s heart helped quiet his own racing one, but nothing could slow the memories. A whirlwind slideshow of his son’s life. His accomplishments.

And his failures. He was human, after all, not a saint.

No one ever talked about those, though.

Who wanted to speak ill of the dead?

Although honestly, no one spoke about him much in any way these days. Not outside of grief counseling. Every time he or Nicole would start to reminisce over a Mikey story at dinner or while watching something on tv that reminded them of something he’d said or done, Carol would shut up, shut down, and more often than not leave the room entirely.

So, he talked about his son less and less. Until he barely spoke of him at all, just to keep the peace.

Maybe that had been a mistake.

Maybe he needed to talk more, not less. Maybe they all did. Remembering Mikey with love and fondness, and even some gentle roasting for the not-so-perfect things he’d done, rather than burying his memory along with his body.

Cooper shifted restlessly in his arms. Taking the hint, he started walking again.

And talking.

“Mikey might have been a whiz at building and repairing things, but you know what he was absolutely terrible at? Cooking. Couldn’t get the hang of it no matter how hard he tried. He could follow a recipe to the letter, and it would still somehow come out tasting awful. And yet every year for Mother’s Day he’d insist on making his mom breakfast in bed. And every year she choked down probably the worst meal in the history of food with a smile.”

He glanced down at the pup.

Its eyes were finally starting to droop, so he kept going.

“I asked her once how she could do it. Eat something so bad, right down to the last bite, and do it with such honest happiness. You know what she said? That the only thing she could taste on the plate was love. And love was worth any sacrifice. Even indigestion.”

Laughter, warm and healing, bubbled up.

“It may have been made with love, but I was still glad when he just got me a new tool when Father’s Day rolled around every year. What that boy did to bacon was criminal. But he kept trying, I’ll give him that. He never gave up on something he set his mind to doing. No matter how hard, no matter how long. He stuck with it. He wasn’t afraid of trying and failing, only of not giving it his best shot.”

Another glance.

Eyes almost shut now.

Come on, pal. Fall asleep already before my arms do.

For a little dude, this chonker was freaking solid. He might not be the alpha of the litter, but he’d probably end up the biggest.

“He was tenacious, our Mikey. And fearless. Which is probably why he was such a good medic. He’d have to be both, running out under fire to help treat the wounded and get them to safety. He saved so many people over the years. Not that he ever told us about it. But his lieutenant, he said it in the letter he wrote after…after.”

He cleared his throat.

“It wasn’t an email, either, but an honest-to-god handwritten letter. Telling us how much Mikey meant to the men he served with. To him. As a soldier, and as a friend. And about how many times Mikey had gone into harm’s way to save his men. Sometimes against some really bad odds.”

Until he’d played those odds once too often.

And lost.

He still managed to save three severely wounded soldiers that day. Men who’d made it out alive after they were ambushed because of his bravery. The same three men—Cooper, Bailey, and Samson—three of the puppies in Sadie’s litter had been named for.

To honor Mikey’s sacrifice.

The same puppies headed to the non-profit foundation, Another Step Forward, to be trained as service dogs to help injured soldiers lead easier lives.

To honor his legacy.

Both were Nicole’s ideas. As were the letters she wrote to accompany each of those pups after they graduated from the program in about two years. Letters to be given to the wounded vets they’d be paired with.

Telling them about Mikey.

Something no doubt inspired by the letter from Mikey’s platoon leader, which he knew she’d made a copy of for herself. He wasn’t sure if she took comfort from rereading the man’s words, or if it was one final connection to her brother she couldn’t let go of.

A connection she’d wanted to ensure lived on through her own letters.

And maybe…maybe she just needed to talk to someone about him, since he and Carol had all but shut down that possibility at home.

His guilt at that thought lined up perfectly with the bottle of whiskey as his rambling circuit of the kitchen led him full circle back to the counter where it sat.

Waiting.

Beckoning.

He stopped, but rather than reach for the glass of amber oblivion, he opened the drawer below it instead. The one where Carol had shoved Nicole’s letters after he’d given them to her to read after he had. He wasn’t sure if she ever did.

He was betting on not.

The purple envelopes—his daughter’s obsessive color of choice for everything these days—stood out against the usual odds-and-ends inhabiting every junk drawer across America. Stray rubber bands. Fast food menus. Birthday candles.

That last hit him like a cold slap.

It was a brand-new box, cellophane wrapping still intact. No doubt bought months ago in anticipation of celebrating of their son’s milestone day.

Today.

He swallowed down a groan. Had Carol seen those when she’d tossed the envelopes into the drawer?

Of course she had.

Oh, sweetheart, why didn’t you say something? I was standing right there. You could have told me. Leaned on me.

They could have leaned on each other.

But she was still locked in her own bubble of grief, and he’d given up trying to reach her through it. Not wanting to push her too hard, and maybe end up pushing her away.

Or maybe he was just afraid of failing, and giving up had been easier.

Kind of like sneaking into his son’s room in the middle of the night had been easier. Avoidance over confrontation. The coward’s path out of any difficult situation.

Oh, Mikey. You’d be so disappointed in me.

But not in Nicole. She’d found her own way to push back against the silence. Putting her thoughts and feelings onto paper to share with not just the people who got the dogs, but with him and Carol as well. Making her voice heard without having to speak a word.

He looked at the envelopes with a new appreciation.

Clever girl.

It seemed Mikey wasn’t his only child with a tenacious nature.

Or a need to fix things.

His hands itched to pick one up and read it again, but they were full of puppy. Who was finally, thank you God, asleep.

With great care not to jostle and wake him, he carried Cooper downstairs, Sadie following at his heels. She hopped neatly over the board across the doorway to the game room they’d temporarily converted to the puppy den. The one that should have been too high for Cooper to get over.

A mystery solved as he stepped over it himself and nearly tripped on one of the dog toys laying against it on the other side. The black rubber chewing tire wasn’t huge. Only around six inches across and three inches thick. But standing on top of it must have given the pup just enough extra height to let him scramble over the board and follow his mother upstairs.

Forget Houdini. Cooper was a little MacGyver in the making.

“You are definitely going to be a handful for your person, pal,” he said softly as he laid the pup’s boneless body down near one of his siblings. Then stood for a moment listening to the quiet breathing of puppies, the way he used to stand and listen to the kids sleeping when they were babies.

A soft wave of melancholy rolled over him.

This was the last time they’d all be together. Tomorrow Cooper, Bailey, and Samson were going to the service dog foundation. The breeder was coming next week to take the alpha pup as his stud fee. Four more would go to their new homes then as well, with half the money their sale brought in donated to animal shelters.

That was Mikey’s doing.

He’d protested when they decided to breed Sadie to help bolster the family vacation fund. Hated the idea of bringing more dogs into the world when there were so many already in need of a loving home. Splitting the profits with the local shelters had been the compromise.

It still amazed him how skilled a negotiator his son had been to get them to agree. But then, he’d always been good at the things he was passionate about.

There was one puppy staying with them this time. A spicy little female they’d named Ginger, who they hoped would keep Sadie company and distract her from the fact her favorite person was never coming home again.

The humans weren’t the only ones who loved and missed Mikey.

After putting the tire on the other side of the door to prevent a second escape attempt, he went upstairs. His feet led him back to where the whiskey waited.

He chose the letters instead.

Not that he needed to read them again. His daughter’s words had been so special, so incredibly insightful, they were already seared into his memory. But he wanted to see them one last time before they disappeared into strangers’ hands tomorrow, just like the puppies.

He opened the top envelope and withdrew the folded sheet of purple stationery inside.

Dear Serviceperson,

First, I want to thank you for your service. If you’re reading this, it means that you were wounded in some way and are in need of a service dog, and for that, I’m truly sorry. But if you’re reading this, it also means that you’re getting one of the dogs that was born to my brother Mikey’s dog, Sadie, and for that I’m glad. You see, Mikey was a medic in the Army, and he was killed trying to help some wounded soldiers just a few weeks before he was supposed to come home.

I’m sorry to say I was really angry with my brother when I first heard what he’d done. I guess it’s selfish of me to think he should have cared more about keeping himself safe than risking his life for other people. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized there was no way he could have done anything else. Mikey was always the kind of guy everyone could rely on. He was smart, and funny, and the best big brother anyone could ever have. I loved him lots, and I’m going to miss him even more, every single day of my life.

I’m not telling you any of this to make you sad. I just wanted to explain about my brother, and why the dog you’re getting is so special. My brother spent the short time he had on this Earth helping others. I can’t wish him back to life, but I can wish this: that his generous spirit live on in the love and comfort you receive from your service dog. Take each day you have together as a gift, and maybe once in a while think about Mikey. I know when I do, I’ll be picturing him smiling down on you, knowing that his legacy, and Cooper, are in good hands.

Wishing you a happy and fulfilling life,

Nicole

As they had before, his daughter’s words brought him to tears. Only now he realized it wasn’t from sadness. Or not only sadness. It was also from the love and hope that sang from every line she’d written. Every feeling she’d shared.

Mikey had been loved, and that love would never die, as long as they nurtured it by keeping him alive in their hearts.

Life changed. Went in new directions.

Sometimes you just had to trust in where it was taking you.

He refolded the letter with care. As he placed the envelope on top of the others, each the same except for the puppies’ names, he briefly considered leaving it on the counter instead for Carol to see. And immediately rejected the idea.

That would just be one more bit of passive inaction.

No, he’d actually talk to her in the morning. About reading the letter. About a lot of things. Maybe it wasn’t too late to fix what he’d let stay broken for far too long.

But he did take the box of birthday candles from the drawer before he shut it.

The whiskey went in the cabinet, what was left in his glass down the sink. From now on, his comfort would come from bringing his family back together, not a bottle.

It wouldn’t be easy. Might even be painful. And messy. But Carol was right.

Love was worth any sacrifice.

And like Mikey, he wouldn’t stop trying, no matter how hard it might get to fix things. He’d see it through to the bitter end.

No matter what, he’d do his son’s legacy proud.
 

“Oh, please tell me he’s here to interview for the job!”

With a frown, Camille followed her friend’s hungry gaze down the hallway they’d stopped in to talk about the upcoming Field Day. Wowza. The man walking across the elementary school lobby toward the glass front doors was tall, lean, and had a face just rough enough to keep him from being pretty.

And he definitely wasn’t there to interview for the first-grade teaching position needing to be filled for the fall term. She’d remember that resume crossing her desk.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but no.”

Joelyn sighed. “Too bad.”

Shooting her a sidelong glance, Cam said, “You’re a happily married woman.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still enjoy the scenery.”

As much as she wanted to argue, she really couldn’t. The man was certainly easy on the eyes, with a little kick of something extra. Something dark and spicy that made a woman’s libido sit up and take notice. Eighty-year-old women probably stopped and stared in the grocery store when he walked by, it was that potent.

The thought brought a grin twitching to her lips. Until the guy turned and bent over slightly to listen to what the little girl walking beside him said.

No.

Amusement was stripped away as alarm surged in to take its place. Pink top, pink backpack, pink sneakers. Carly Aiken. A first-grader who’d had an unholy obsession with the color all year.

And she was about to walk out the front door of the school with a total stranger.

Not on my watch.

“Excuse me, sir!”

Cam broke into a fast walk toward the two of them that was just short of a run, the words of her predecessor ringing in her head despite the circumstances. Principals do not run through the hallway no matter the provocation. They remain calm and dignified at all times. It instills confidence in those around you. “Wait a moment, please. I’d like to talk to you.”

She knew he heard her, because his head swiveled in her direction even as he was scooping Carly up in his arms. Alarm gave way to fury as he looked around wildly before bolting toward the door.

Screw dignified.

She broke into a run, yelling over her shoulder to Joelyn, “Call the police!”

Thankful for her sensible low-heeled shoes, she still slid a little on the polished tile floor before she hit the push bar on the heavy glass-and-metal door and shoved.

Only to come to a stumbling halt a few steps outside.

She’d expected to have to chase the bastard through the parking lot to his car.

Instead, he was hunkered down at the side of the cement walkway next to the child he’d just snatched, rubbing her back as she retched into the flowerbed. He glanced at Cam over his shoulder, acknowledging her presence, then went back to murmuring words of comfort as a second round of retching ensued.

What the…

Joelyn came barreling through the door, cell phone in hand. “They’re on their…” She took in the tableau with the same confusion on her face Cam was experiencing.

It wouldn’t stop Cam from doing her job, though, and that was ensuring Carly’s safety.

“Sir, I need you to step away from the child right now.”

She bristled when he shot her an exasperated look and ignored her order, instead slipping the straps of the pink Disney princess backpack down and off Carly’s hunched back. “Sir, get your hands off her and step away.”

The guy reached into a pocket in his khaki cargo pants, making her heart trip into high gear. But rather than a weapon, he pulled out a pack of tissues, peeled one off, and handed it to Carly. 

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

Only after Carly had taken it to wipe her mouth did he finally stand up.

And up.

She swallowed as she took in just how large and intimidating the guy actually was. A good six inches taller than her own five-eight, with arms under a dark t-shirt that looked like they could crush boulders into dust with one flex.

Or middle-aged principals.

Good lord, had she really thought for even a second he was sexy? More like dangerous. If he tried to grab Carly and run again, she wasn’t sure even she and Joelyn both jumping on him would be enough to stop him. Or even slow him down.

She squared her shoulders. It didn’t matter. She’d do whatever she needed to. No one was hurting one of her kids.

As she was mentally calculating the best way to get Carly away to safety, the girl stood up, wrapped her thin arms around the guy’s right leg, and looked up at him, sniffling. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Everything froze.

Daddy?

Glacial eyes the blue of the deep sea warmed as he looked from Cam down to Carly, one large hand stroking over her now lopsided blonde ponytail. “It’s okay, peanut. Everyone gets sick sometimes.”

“But…I made a mess.” Her lower lip quivering, she looked on the verge of tears. That was when Cam noticed the black t-shirt the guy was wearing had indeed been christened with a swath of vomit across the front.

“What, this?” He made a pfft sound. “That’s nothing compared to some of the puke-ups you had as a baby.”

“Daddy, eww.”

“It was like a firehose, just, everywhere.” He gestured with his hands in an exaggerated spraying motion.

“Dad-dy!” She sounded scandalized, but was giggling at the same time. Which, judging by the loosening of tension around his eyes, was what he’d been going for.

He gave Carly a smile and a wink, which earned another giggle. Only then did he turn his attention to Cam.

The force of his complete focus tingled like it was full-body contact.

Oh boy.

She was right. This man was dangerous.

Just not in the way she’d originally thought.

Shaking herself free of the sensation, she asked, “You’re Carly’s father?”

“Yes, ma’am. Judd Aiken.” He reached out a hand, then reconsidered as they both saw it wasn’t exactly clean. He gave her a quick grin instead.

She didn’t return it.

The last name was right, but all she knew about Carly and Boone Aiken’s father was that he was divorced from their mother, Dana, and lived in another state. There were usually good reasons for that. None of which left her comfortable about him leaving school grounds with Carly until she cleared a few things up.

Before she could ask her first question, Carly tugged on her father’s pants—one thing Cam was willing to concede was the relationship, especially when faced with their almost identical blue gazes. “Daddy, my mouth tastes gross.”

“I have some water in the truck.”

Cam took a protective step closer. If he thought he was going anywhere with that child before she got some answers, he was sadly mistaken. He gave her another of those exasperated looks. Only this time tinged with a hint of respect.

“Carly, honey, stay here with your teachers while I go get it, okay?”

“Miss Richards isn’t a teacher, Daddy,” Carly said in what was probably supposed to be a whisper. 

“She’s the principal.”

“Ah.” Lines crinkled the tanned skin around his eyes as he grinned, showing he’d spent a lot of his life in the sun. “Then you stay with Miss Richards and…” He shot an inquiring smile at Joelyn, who immediately appeared flustered.

“Joelyn. Baker. Mrs. Baker. And I am a teacher. Second grade.”

Cam practically rolled her eyes at her friend’s giddy reaction. “Jo.”

To his credit, if Judd was amused, he didn’t let it show. He just palmed a big hand—the clean one—over Carly’s little head again and said, “Be right back.”

As soon as he walked away, Cam moved to the girl and led her a few steps from the pungent fragrance of vomit wafting from the daisies. “Carly, honey, you know you’re not supposed to leave school with anyone except your mom or your grandparents.”

“And my dad. Mrs. Ryan said so.” Her face set itself in stubborn lines that only increased the resemblance to her father.

Cam looked over at Joelyn, who was already typing on her phone with a muttered “Checking.” If the school nurse had released Carly into her father’s care, he must have been on the approved pick-up list.

And Cam had just made a huge mistake.

Sure enough, when Joelyn’s phone dinged and she read the text, her expression confirmed what Cam already suspected. She returned her friend’s “oops” face with one of her own.

“Cooper!”

The girl’s excited squeal brought Cam’s attention back to her, and the massive golden retriever heading their way. The dog made a beeline for Carly before Cam could intervene, plopping its furry butt down with a swish of its feathery tail. It accepted the exuberant hug Carly wrapped around its neck with what could only be called stoic patience.

That didn’t stop Cam’s hands from itching to snatch the little girl away.

When Carly released the dog, Cam noticed for the first time the bottle of water held delicately in its jaws. When Carly said, “Release,” it let her take it from him, tongue lolling as she patted his head and thanked him and called him a good boy.

“Cute trick,” Joelyn said.

“It’s not a trick,” Carly said in a very matter-of-fact tone. “It’s a skill. He has lots of them.”

Joelyn couldn’t hide a smile. “Impressive skill, then.”

It was. The dog was clearly well trained.

That didn’t mean having it off-leash on school grounds was okay.

She turned to tell the dog’s owner exactly that, but he wasn’t there. Then she saw him by the dirt-streaked white quad-cab truck in one of the nearby visitor parking spots. The driver’s side rear door was wide open as he did something in the back seat.

An apology was in order, and she’d prefer doing it in private in case things got unpleasant. She looked at Joelyn and tipped her head toward Carly in an unspoken request to keep an eye on the girl. Then she squared her shoulders and marched over to the truck.

Admitting she was wrong wasn’t something she had to do very often. Which meant she only hated it even more when she did. But she’d made an assumption. An incorrect one, as it turned out. Now it was time to pay the piper.

“Mr. Aiken, I just wanted to—”

Everything else stuck in her throat as she stepped around the open door and saw what he’d been doing behind its shelter. The soiled tee had been stripped off, and he was using a small terry towel dampened from the bottle of water in his other hand to clean off whatever vomit had soaked through to his skin.

And there was a lot of skin.

Deep golden brown, from the slightly loose waist of khaki cargo pants that dipped below his belly button, all the way up his ripped abs to his muscular pecs and broad shoulders. Dark and even enough to make her rethink her assumption of a tan in favor of a natural skin tone like her own, courtesy of her Vietnamese mother.

Judd froze for a second as well, then continued cleaning himself off with short, efficient movements. “Yes?”

“I’m so sorry.” She spun, giving him her back. Partly to give him his privacy. But also because heat from an embarrassed blush was flaming along her cheekbones as she realized just how long she’d been staring at his naked chest.

Brilliant, Camille.

Gawking at a student’s father. Could she be any less professional?

“It’s not a problem.” Thankfully, there was no amusement in his voice, which would have only made everything worse.

“I, ah, okay.” If he was willing to ignore it, so could she. “I wanted to apologize, but it can wait until you’re, um, finished.” And dressed. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to form coherent sentences with the distraction of all that nakedy goodness staring her in the face, unprofessional or not.

She was only human, after all.

“I’m done,” he said a minute later.

She turned slowly in case his idea of being done and hers differed, and breathed a silent sigh of relief. His chest was now covered by a gray t-shirt. Although the sleeves were cut off, leaving his muscular arms on full display. His biceps bunched and flexed as he zipped the soiled tee into a plastic bag and shoved it in the backpack on the seat, which was probably where he’d also gotten the towel and bottles of water.

Biting her lip, she forced herself not to drool.

“I don’t see what you have to apologize for,” he said, clearly unaware of the riot he was causing with her hormones. “You were just doing your job, looking out for the welfare and safety of one of your students.” He zipped the backpack closed and turned to face her. “I should be thanking you for being vigilant on behalf of my kid.”

Wow. Totally not what she’d been expecting.

“That’s…thank you. Parents aren’t usually so understanding when it comes to things like being chased down and spoken to like a criminal.” She gave a self-deprecating smile, going for a little levity.

Dark shadows crossed his expression.

“Most parents don’t know the kinds of bad people there are in the world.” He visibly shook himself from his thoughts and offered a rueful grin. “Besides, in hindsight, I guess my actions could be interpreted as somewhat questionable.”

“You mean picking up a child and running out the door with her? Yes, a little bit.”

“In my defense, I was going to wait and talk to you. But Carly said she was about to throw up and I didn’t see any bathrooms or garbage cans nearby, so I figured outside was the next best choice.”

Ah, so that explained the wild-eyed look he’d given around the lobby right before bolting for the door. “Context really is key. But I still need to apologize. It’s my job to know what’s going on in my school. I should have been aware you’d been added to the emergency pick-up list.”

“I wasn’t. I mean, not until today. It was more of a last-minute thing when the nurse called Dana about Carly having a stomachache. She asked me to come pick her up since her folks are out of town and she didn’t want to lose a day’s pay if she didn’t have to. She called the nurse back to okay it.”

“There’s only a week left of school, but you might want to have her add you to the authorized list so you don’t have any problems in the future. If you’re going to be here that long, I mean,” she added, realizing she was making assumptions again. He could very well be there for only a few days’ visit.

“I’ll be here for a while. I’ll mention it to her, thanks.”

There was no reason she should be happy at that news.

Professional, Cam.

“She can call the office anytime.”

“Thanks. So, is it okay for me to take Carly home now?”

“Yes, of course.” Cam glanced over to where the girl was showing off some of the dog’s other tricks—skills—to Joelyn. “That’s a very large dog you have.”

Judd’s hand froze on the truck door for a split second before he closed it. “Yeah, Coop’s big for his breed. But a real gentle giant. You don’t have to worry about him with Carly. He loves the kids.”

“Still, he shouldn’t be unleashed in public.”

A muscled ticked in his jaw. “It won’t happen again, ma’am.” He started walking, then stopped, the stiff line of tension easing somewhat from his body. “Sorry. You’re right. He’s just so dam…darn smart I sometimes forget he’s still a dog.”

She didn’t let it show, but that “ma’am” annoyed her more than the snippy attitude had. At forty-two, she knew she was at least a few years older than he was. She just hadn’t realized how much it would bother her he’d noticed it, too.

Which it shouldn’t have. At all.

Scrambling for another, safer topic as they walked, she said, “That was good before, getting Carly to laugh. Kids, especially little girls, can get pretty upset about throwing up.”

The lightning grin she was already coming to recognize flashed across his lips. “It was just the god’s honest truth. You know what baby projectile vomiting is like.”

She barely held back a flinch from the blow his words landed.

So much for a safer topic.

“Yes. I think every one of my nieces and nephews has gotten me at least once.” She managed what she hoped was a credible smile, but by the pensive look he gave her, it might have fallen flat. Thankfully, he turned his attention to his daughter, leaving Cam feeling like she’d dodged a rather large landmine.

“Hey, peanut, how’s your tummy doing?”

“It’s still all gurgley, but I don’t feel so sick anymore.”

“Well, that’s good. You ready to go home?”

“Uh-huh.” She slipped a tiny hand into his. 

It was a simple gesture. One she saw play out dozens of times every single day. But for some reason, this time it twisted something painful in her chest. Hard enough she had to look away from the adorable picture the little girl and big man made together.

And saw the Sheriff’s car pulling up to the curb a few yards away.

Son of a biscuit.

“Oh, no. Jo…” She looked at her friend, who gave her wide eyes back.

“I called and told them it was a false alarm, I swear.”

They all watched as Uriah Dixon unfolded his large frame from behind the wheel of the white Ford Explorer. It took a moment, because there was a lot of him to unfold. At close to six-foot-six, he was the tallest man Cam had ever met, and the rest of him matched the height. Despite crossing the half-century mark earlier that year, celebrated at a big to-do thrown by his wife and attended by probably half the town, he was still in excellent shape.

Or so she’d thought until she had Judd Aiken’s chiseled physique to compare him to.

She glanced over at Judd to apologize for what was sure to be an additional delay in getting his daughter home, but the words never left her mouth. The charming, doting father of a few seconds ago was gone, replaced by a steely-eyed stranger.

He hadn’t moved an inch, but she could sense the difference in him somehow. The tension. The watchfulness. It was probably her imagination, but he seemed like a coiled spring ready to launch at a moment’s notice.

Uriah took the time to settle his cowboy hat just so, covering the gleam of his shaved ebony dome from the noonday sun, before walking toward them. It was difficult to tell with the mirrored sunglasses, but he appeared as focused on Judd as Judd was on him.

Oh boy, just what they didn’t need.

Two alpha males butting heads for no good reason.

She smiled and started talking before he reached their little group, hoping to diffuse the situation. “Everything’s fine here, Sheriff. It was a simple misunderstanding about who was picking Carly up when she had a stomachache. They should have called to let you know not to bother coming.”

“Just doing my job, Miss Camille.” His deep baritone rumbled so low it was almost a growl. “Besides, I’m always happy for an excuse to come check in with our littlest citizens.” He took off his sunglasses and smiled down at Carly, who was leaning against her father’s right leg again. She returned it with a shy one of her own.

The warm smile turned cold and professional when Uriah shifted his attention back to Judd. “And you are?”

“Judd Aiken. Carly’s father.”

“Is that right.” He looked over at Cam as though for confirmation. She nodded. “Well, then, you wouldn’t mind showing me some ID, now would you, son?”

Oh, for the love of Pete.

“Uriah, is that really necessary?” she asked, even as Judd pulled out his wallet and flipped it open.

“Just doing my job,” he said again.

He took the offered wallet and examined the driver’s license under the plastic window. “Coronado, California, huh?” He shot an assessing look at Judd as though that meant something. When Judd continued giving him the same bland expression he’d been wearing, Uriah grunted and handed the wallet back. “In town for long?”

“Daddy’s staying the whole summer!” Carly’s excited announcement had Uriah giving her another broad smile. “We’re gonna go to the park, and the movies, and ride our bikes, and play dolls, and everything!”

Judd’s expression finally broke, turning soft as he looked down at his daughter. “You bet, peanut. We sure are.”

“Is that right. So, I guess that means you’re staying with the family while you’re here?”

“No. I’m renting a place.”

Uriah tipped his hat back an inch with his thumb. “Well, now, rentals aren’t exactly thick on the ground here in Slow Creek. Where’d you manage to find one to rack out in?”

Pressing his lips into a tight line was the only indication Judd was unhappy about answering. “Mr. Garvey is letting me stay in the camper on his place.”

“That rusty piece of junk?” Uriah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I don’t think it’s moved from next to that old barn of his in years.”

Cam vaguely remembered the white and green camper Old Man Garvey used to tow behind his pickup when he took his horses on the rodeo circuit when she was a kid. “His camper has to be thirty years old, at least. Probably closer to forty, since it was pretty beat up even back when I remember him still using it.”

Judd shrugged. “I’ve lived in worse.”

Uriah gave a significant glance down at Carly, as though questioning the wisdom of bringing a child into that environment.

Judd’s lips compressed even tighter. “It’s not pretty, but it’s clean. And safe. I made sure of it.” Looking down, he palmed his hand over his daughter’s head like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. “Besides, it’s only temporary, until I can find something else.” His lips twisted into a mocking grin. “Like you said, rentals aren’t exactly thick on the ground here. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

His dark eyes narrowing slightly said Uriah hadn’t liked having his words thrown back at him. “I’ll keep my eyes open for you.”

It sounded more of a threat than a promise of help. But if Judd took it that way, he didn’t let it show.

“I’d like to take my daughter home now, Sheriff, if that’s okay with you.” It was worded as a question, but it didn’t sound like one.

Cam jumped in before Uriah could take offense.

“Yes, I think we’ve kept her standing out here in the sun for too long as it is.” She gave Uriah the kind of look students usually wilted under when she turned it on them. “Wouldn’t you agree, Sheriff?”

He didn’t exactly wilt, but after a second he tipped his head as though conceding. He smiled down at Carly. “You feel better now, Carly.” He gave Judd a long look, then said, “Ginger ale is good for settling their tummies. Soda crackers, too.”

“Thanks.” Judd nodded to Cam and Joelyn. “Ladies.”

Cam said, “I’ll let Boone know why his sister won’t be on the bus after school, so he doesn’t get worried.”

“Thank you.” He gave her another of those lightning grins she felt all the way to her toes. With a hand gesture, he collected the dog, who had been sitting so quietly she’d forgotten it was there. It took up a position at his left side, heeling perfectly, while Carly walked hand-in-hand with him on his right.

The girl looked back over her shoulder and waved.

Cam returned it with a smile. 

“I better get back in. The bell’s about to ring for lunch.” Joelyn gave Uriah a smile. “Nice seeing you, Sheriff.”

“You too, Miss Joelyn.”

Cam waited until her friend was inside to ask, “Honestly, Uriah, was all that really necessary?”

“Camille, I will always do whatever it takes to make sure these kids are safe. There are too many stories in the news these days about bad people doing bad things in schools. It would be foolish to think it could never happen here in Slow Creek.”

A chill skated up her spine at his grim words. The shootings that had become much too commonplace for a sane society were her worst nightmare. “Funny, Judd said almost the same thing.” She didn’t realize her slip of the tongue in using his first name until Uriah gave her a speculative look.

“Well now, I suppose he probably would.” He glanced at the truck, where the man in question was buckling Carly into her booster seat. “You just be careful, now, y’hear?” He touched two fingers to his hat and lumbered away before she could ask what he’d meant by his comment about Judd.

Mr. Aiken, she reminded herself as she gave one last look in his direction before heading inside. She always addressed parents formally, even in her head, unless she had a personal relationship with them. And even then, she didn’t use first names for anything related to school issues. It helped establish the proper roles they each had to play.

Especially when it came to things like discipline. Which, for the kids of a friend, could get a little sticky. But for some reason, this particular parent was short-circuiting her usual automatic compartmentalization.

Probably because he was the only one whose naked chest she’d ever ogled.

Closing her office door, she gave a little laugh at herself and her pathetic libido. “You are in drastic need of a date, woman.”

Unfortunately for her, single, interesting men near her own age were as thin on the ground in Slow Creek as rentals apparently were.

It had been a good four months since she’d even been out to dinner with someone. Twice that since she’d been interested enough to go out more than once with the same man. And as for the last time she’d been intimate…well, it was so far back she’d need a search party to find the actual date.

Letting her guard down enough to get naked and vulnerable with a man after her divorce had so far been nearly impossible.

After sending a message to Boone Aiken’s third-grade teacher to let him know his sister had gone home sick, Cam thought about Uriah’s odd reaction to where Ju—Mr. Aiken was from. Out of curiosity, she Googled Coronado, California.

Tons of hits came up. It was a small city on a peninsula in San Diego Bay boasting excellent beaches, surfing, a golf course, shops, bars, and the famous Hotel del Coronado. All the things a tourist could want.

It also was home to the west coast Navy SEAL Teams.

She sat back in her chair with a surprised huff as a few things clicked into place. The physique. The watchfulness. The coiled strength.

Holy cats.

She’d been right the first time. Judd Aiken was one very dangerous man.