Texas Wedding

For the first time in a long time she, she was attracted to someone. It had been such a long time—since Danny had been killed. And it felt good for the butterflies to be back.

She waited for the old, familiar guilt to wash over her. Guilt that Danny was dead and she was here, lusting after another man.

No. Stop it.

It had been nearly five years since her fiancé had been killed in the line of duty.

He went to work one day and didn’t come home. He was gone. Just like that.

“I guess I could have done the same thing,” he said. “So if you’re in the middle of something, don’t worry about it.”

AJ shook away the thought, refusing to let the unchangeable past stand in the way of possibility. Danny would want her to start living again. Thirty-three was too young to put herself on a shelf.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I’ve been home for about an hour. I was just thinking about fixing myself some dinner. So let me look it up. You definitely shouldn’t web surf and drive.”

“I wouldn’t web surf and drive,” he said. “I’d pull over if I were going to do that.”

“At the rate you’re going, it’ll be midnight before you get home. Hold on, it’ll only take me a few seconds to search. But I’ll have the phone away from my ear while I’m investigating.”

“Okay, thanks,” he said. “I appreciate your help.”

She found a legitimate-looking article written by a veterinarian. “Nope. It says here that the pH of dog shampoo is two points different than people shampoo. Supposedly, that’s a huge difference. It says here, using products made for people can dry out a dog’s skin and cause all sorts of problems.”

“Well, that’s not what I wanted to hear. I guess that means I’ll have to stop by the store before I get back to the apartment. He’s so flea-infested, I may have to set off a bug bomb in my car. I don’t want to bring him in the house without bathing him first.”

“No bug bombs,” said AJ. “Use borax. I don’t want you to asphyxiate yourself. Do you have access to an outside hose at the apartment?”

“It’s a rent-by-the-week joint. There’s not even a pool I could throw him in, much less a spigot and hose for the renters’ convenience.”

“Bring him over to my house.” AJ’s stomach lurched at the boldness of her suggestion. But she would get to see him again. “We can wash him outside. And don’t worry. This is not a date. I’m just trying to save you from flea infestation.”

He made a sound that echoed with refusal. “I can’t bring this dirty animal and all his bugs over to you. You’ll never forgive me if you get an infestation.”

“Borax. I’m telling you, it’s good stuff. Bring him over. You can wash him in the driveway and let him dry on the back porch. He won’t even have to come in the house.”

* * *

By the time Shane stopped to pick up flea shampoo, dog food and a leash, it was after seven-thirty when he pulled into AJ’s driveway. Her house was a modest bungalow, perched atop a small hill about five miles from downtown. From the curb, the white clapboard structure with forest-green shutters looked typical for Celebration, but he had a feeling the place AJ called home would be far from typical.

He walked around to the passenger side of his car, opened the door and hooked the new leash to the dog’s collar. As free-spirited as the animal had seemed wandering downtown footloose and fancy-free, he was remarkably tame, sitting on the jacket Shane had spread over the front seat to protect the leather seat from the dog’s overgrown toenails. He’d have to dry-clean his jacket before he could wear it again because it probably reeked of dirty dog—the same way his car smelled right now.

As he gave the mutt a few strokes, it struck him that except for being filthy and hungry, the mutt was in relatively good shape. Plus, he was wearing a collar—even if it was missing its tags. Shane frowned. Somewhere out there a family was missing a dog. Either that or the animal had been dumped.

“Do you belong to someone, buddy?”

The dog whined in response, looking up at Shane with adoring chocolate eyes.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

They rang the doorbell and AJ answered a moment later, stepping outside.

“Hey,” she said. She’d changed out of her chef’s coat and was wearing a red T-shirt that hugged her curves in all the right places and jean shorts that made the most of her tanned legs.

“Hi.” She looked way too good for washing a dog. Though he didn’t really expect her to roll up her sleeves and dive in. “Thanks for letting us come over.”

Her gaze dropped to the area of his stomach. Suddenly, he realized he was still wearing the same stained shirt from earlier that day. In all the commotion with the dog, he’d forgotten. He should’ve gone home and changed. For that matter, he should’ve gone home and showered and shaved, too. Maybe bringing the dog over here wasn’t such a great idea after all. He could’ve just whisked him into the apartment shower and taken his chances.

But a little voice inside of him reminded him that the reason he was here was because he wanted to see her again. Not very good planning, but here he was. Here they were.

“Nice shirt,” she said, kneeling down in front of the dog and stroking his ears.

“Yeah, this is the best dog-washing outfit I own.”

She laughed. It sounded genuine and that made him feel better.

“What’s his name?” AJ asked.

“Name? He doesn’t have one. He’s a stray.”

“Oh, you poor boy,” AJ cooed to the mutt. “He needs a name. You can’t just keep calling him ‘dog.’”

Uh-oh. Shane leaned against the porch rail. “You name a dog, you get attached. I can’t get attached right now.”

“You have something against getting attached?” Her tone was light, but her frown made him think his answer was important to her.

Weighing his words, Shane looked at her for a moment—noticing her gorgeous blue eyes and sleek blond hair. “Animals. I don’t get attached to animals. I can’t keep this dog. My assignment here ends in six weeks. Then I’m heading to Europe. I can’t take a dog with me.”

Weighty silence settled around them. Then the buzz of the cicadas sliced through the stillness, making the stagnant, humid air feel like it was vibrating. Through it all she just kept looking at him, as if what he’d said didn’t make sense.

So, he tried to explain. “Taking on a dog is a huge responsibility. I can’t keep him. I just...can’t.”

AJ stood up. “I get it.” She dusted off her hands and looked him square in the eyes. “They’re a commitment. Come on, let’s go in the backyard and wash him.”

She took the dog’s leash and led the way to a gate in the white picket fence that surrounded her backyard. Walking behind her, Shane tried not to watch the way her hips swayed. Or notice how nicely her butt filled out the shorts—another treasure that was hidden by the shapeless chef’s coat. He also fought the urge to explain himself, but he lost.

“When I leave there’s no way I can take him with me.”

Smooth. Real smooth.

He should’ve kept his mouth shut, the way she did when they passed through the gate into the backyard. She simply pointed toward the garden hose, which was neatly coiled around a caddy attached to the house. Shane walked over and began unraveling it.

As he worked, he felt her watching him. “So, you’re telling me that because you travel so much you never get attached? To anyone or anything? You just float from port to port?”

“No, I don’t float, and I don’t have ports. That’s the navy. The army has bases. But no—I mean yes. I mean it’s not that I consciously decide not to get attached. It’s just difficult because I’m so...”

“Transient?” She looked horrified.

He snorted, unsure of whether to laugh off her comment or take her seriously. But the fact that he could see virtual walls that had gone up around her made him believe there was a hint of truth to her question.