Raising the Stakes

“I’d rather be Sir Reality Check, if you don’t mind.”

Her eye roll said it all. “Your reality, I guess.” She resumed hammering. “Sir.”

He picked up more nails and stuffed them into his jeans pockets. “So, six stepfathers, huh? Sounds rough.” He couldn’t deny his curiosity about Vivie. She’d surprised him at every turn.

“Yeah. I guess.”

Finished with the board, they moved to the pile of lumber and carried another two-by-four to the next spot. He steadied it in place while she expertly sank nails in its base. Her aim was dead-on and the nails disappeared into the wood after two or three hits. Was it his imagination or was she smashing them harder than ever?

He knew he should leave the topic alone, but something fragile in her tone brought out his protective streak. Had she been hurt?

“Where’s your mom now?”

Her hammer slammed dead center into another nail and buried it in one blow. “Don’t know. Haven’t spoken to her in ten years.”

With her lips pressed together and her eyes narrow, all signs indicated he should change the subject, but somehow he couldn’t.

“Why’s that?”

“She didn’t exactly leave a forwarding number when she walked out on me and her latest husband.”

That sounded hard. “And how old were you?”

She stopped and gulped from her water bottle. After a long drink, she wiped her mouth and met his eyes. “Seventeen. Any more questions, Hardy boy?”

He pulled off his sweaty T-shirt. “Not really.” He began nailing another board. “Just passing time.”

Only he wasn’t. Every moment with Vivie intrigued him. He looked forward to seeing her more than he dared admit. More than was good for his peace of mind. Like her, he shouldn’t get attached...especially if he got that job in Yellowstone Park. He wondered when the résumé he’d emailed would get a response.

She moved around him and held the next piece of wood as he secured it to the foundation. “So how about you? Did you grow up with the white picket fence? Have a dog and a sister?”

“A cat and six siblings. No fence, though the Korean vegetable market on the corner had a customers-only line we couldn’t cross. Especially after my sister Mary Ann filched a mango.”

She considered him, something spooked in her expression. “Sounds like you grew up in the city.”

He pressed the beam, testing its stability, then pounded in another nail for good measure. “SoHo. My family owns a pub there and we lived in an apartment above it. Most of them still do. Mary Ann’s getting married there in August.”

She lowered her hammer. “I lived in the city when I was in culinary school.”

“Yeah? What part?”

Her hand rose to her neck and her voice grew faint. “The Bronx.”

Before he could ask her more, she hurried on, “So all nine of you, plus a cat, in one apartment? That must have been cramped.”

He forced a shrug. It had been tough, but he’d been in tighter spots... The memory of Kunar punched his throat.

“My dad died when I was seventeen, so there were only eight of us. He was a Korean War vet. It inspired my twin, Niall, and I to join the military after 9/11.”

A soft hand fell on his arm and he studied her concerned eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that, Liam. Did your mother remarry?”

Spots appeared in the corners of his vision. He sat on a nearby stump and took another swig of water. “My mom has Alzheimer’s. My oldest brother, Aiden, pretty much raised the rest of us.” Crazy that he was telling her so much. He’d only ever opened up to his battle buddies. He stared down at the water bottle, his chest aching. Now those buddies were all gone...the nearest he could get to them was atop a mountain, where he felt closest to heaven.

Vivie plunked down by his feet and handed him a wrapped cookie from her backpack. “Aiden sounds like a great brother. Want one? Raisin oatmeal.”

He bit into the chewy dessert, grateful she’d switched subjects. “Good,” he said after polishing it off in two bites.

“Thanks. One of my stepdads owned a bakery. That’s where I got started making desserts.”

“Guess it wasn’t all bad then, your childhood.”

“There were worse things,” she muttered, almost to herself.

He tried catching her eye but she stared at a copse of papery-white birches. Her shuttered expression made her look guarded and breakable. Something bad had happened to her. But what? He clamped his mouth shut before he could ask. It wasn’t his business. She wasn’t his concern...so why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

No good would come of it.

None at all.

* * *

THE NEXT EVENING, Vivie curled up on her couch with her laptop. The farmhouse smelled pine fresh from the scrub she’d given it after her own soak in the tub. Laboring outside all afternoon, alongside a gorgeous, shirtless DEC officer no less, had been sweaty work. Not that she should be working herself into a lather over chiseled abs. This was the guy who’d almost killed Button.

And spared her, a voice whispered in her head. Would another officer have given her, and the cub, this chance? She pictured Liam working every day this week in her backyard. He never complained. Didn’t seem to tire. Always showed up. It was a far cry from a lot of the men she’d known growing up. Still, she felt better keeping an eye on him, seeing him follow through on his promises.

She should have used the extra time preparing for her certification test, but she’d studied him instead. It made no sense, but she looked forward to working, eating and talking together. Learning about his childhood made her see the man more than the uniform.

She lifted her mug of mint tea and sipped. Her eyes glazed over as she reread, for the third time, question number two hundred and sixteen on the New York State Wildlife Rehabilitator certification practice test. This was hard. Much more challenging than she’d imagined when she’d vowed to pass it.

For the first time, doubt set in. The test was tomorrow and she’d still missed too many questions. What if she failed? Her heart stumbled to a halt. Without a home, would Button be put down after all? The bear’s temporary spot at the rescue center expired at the end of the week. Vivie was all she had.

Vivie gripped the mug handle. She couldn’t let Button down. The cub had kept going after the shooting, dislocated jaw and all. She hadn’t quit, and neither would Vivie.

She answered several more questions, relieved when she missed only three. Progress. For a reward, she tossed back a handful of chocolate. This had to work. Button deserved a safe home.

Didn’t everyone?

The thought brought her up short. Once, she wouldn’t have asked that question at all. Would have assumed that personal safety was a guarantee. Her mind flashed back to her last year in culinary school, the sudden hand over her mouth as she walked home from her late-night cooking job. How her masked attackers had tortured and tormented her, then left her for dead.

She shuddered and pushed away the thought. The journey to recovery had taken her too far to go back there.

When a sharp knock sounded on her front door, Jinx leaped from her lap and slunk under the piano bench. Vivie wished she could curl under there with her, but made her feet take her to the door. After the attack, her support group, Reclaim the Dark, had helped her think like a survivor. Not a victim.

She would not live her life afraid.

She eased open the door as far as the chain allowed and body blocked Scooter.

Liam’s leaf-green eyes shone under the porch light. “I was coming back from a rescue call and thought I’d stop by. See how you were doing with your studies.”