Home for the Holidays Read online

  Still, they used to make jokes about her. Serious attitude. Princess Four-eyes. Stuff like that. It had made him fighting mad before he’d ever spoken a word to her. Made him want to bust a few noses.

  He’d done it once, too. The guy who’d dared Billy Kiner to ask her to the prom and stand her up still sported a hump on the bridge of his nose. They’d planned to let her get all spiffed up and then leave her waiting all night for a date that never showed up.

  Oh, yeah. Big joke.

  As it turned out, Billy had done him a big favor by getting himself hauled in by the cops the afternoon of the prom. Joe had thought about going to the Baker’s place and explaining why her date wasn’t going to show up.

  Instead, he’d got the idea of taking Billy’s place. It had required some hasty scrambling, but with the help of his dad and a waiter over at the Country Club, he’d made the grade, tux, flowers and all.

  Now here she was again, little Ann Elise Baker, all grown-up. He’d called her Al to try and break the spell.

  It wasn’t working.

  She’d mentioned doing last-minute Christmas shopping for kids. He wondered how many she had. He could have asked around and probably found out who she’d married, but he’d chosen not to. She wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe she had an allergic reaction to gold. Maybe she was a single mother who’d sold her jewelry to support her kids. Last he’d heard, her name was still Baker.

  Yeah, right. And maybe some other Ann Elise Baker owned a fancy practice in Dallas’s high-rent district.

  One thing he did know—he wasn’t about to let her screw him around again. No way. He’d already paid too high a price for a single date that had ended up in a lot of laughs, a few shared confidences, some hands-on stuff on the dance floor and one long, mind-blowing kiss.

  In the back of the truck, Ann Elise stroked the bitch, murmuring to her as she watched rain puddle in the corrugated truck bed. Murphy’s Law strikes again. Here she was with Joe Halloran, and this time he was definitely old enough to drive.

  And she was definitely old enough to know better.

  This time, instead of wearing a prom dress and smelling of Aunt Beth’s lily-of-the-valley, with her newly styled hair wisping around her face, she was soaked to the skin, wearing muddy jeans and a ruined sweater, her hair plastered to her head. The only detectable smell was mud, exhaust fumes and wet dog.

  “You two okay back there?” Joe yelled through the back window he’d insisted on leaving open, even though everything in the back seat was probably getting soaked. She knew he was driving slowly to keep from hydroplaning, but she wished he’d hurry and get them somewhere…anywhere!

  “Fine! Just get us out of this rain, will you?”

  “Two minutes. Hang on, I’m fixing to turn off, but it looks like the dirt road’s a mess.”

  “So’s this one,” she muttered, hanging on to the side of the truck with one hand, using the other to soothe the dog.

  Oh, she was fine, all right. All her lofty resolutions to forget the past and get on with the future might as well have been tossed in the washer and set on spin cycle.

  Darn it, she’d had everything planned. Shop today, help Faith with any last-minute preparations and find out if she was really, truly okay with this Raines fellow. Sometime today Marilou was due in, and once the children were in bed they could catch up on all the news. Next week she might even visit a few old friends—acquaintances, actually, as she didn’t really have any close friends in the area.

  Then on New Year’s Day, the memorial service for Aunt Beth, and after that, head back to Dallas and the practice she’d worked so hard for, that she had almost come to despise.

  Not the animals—never those. But too many of her clients saw pets as status symbols instead of as the unique individuals they were. From Afghans—elegant to look at, but surely the stupidest breed alive—to classic poodles, to every exotic that came along, to the sporting breeds that were enjoying new popularity thanks to a recent president.

  A few of her clients actually bonded with their pets, but too many led such active social lives that they had neither time nor room in their busy schedules for a close relationship. Those were the animals she felt sorriest for—those that were looked on as accessories, not companions.

  “And what about you, sugar babe—what’s your story? Do you have a dear friend who’s frantically trying to find you?”

  Nearing the end of the rutted, overgrown road, the truck slowed. “Looks like the house is out of the question,” Joe called through the window. “I’m going to head for the barn. If it checks out, I can back part way inside.”

  As she couldn’t see ahead, she murmured an agreement that was lost in a rumble of thunder. When he began backing toward the barn she knelt and leaned over the tailgate, watching for anything that could cut a tire. An old rake, for instance. All they needed now was a flat tire.

  “I’m going to get as close as I can,” Joe yelled. “Watch for hazards.”

  “Already watching,” she called back. And then, before she could stop herself, she added, “I’m just glad it was you.”

  Oh, God, I didn’t really say that, did I? “You who happened along, I mean. What I meant was—” Just shut up, woman, while you’re ahead.

  Only she wasn’t. Far from it.

  “Better the devil you know, right?” Joe’s voice reached her over the sound of the rain as he switched off the truck’s engine.

  “No comment.”

  The main section of the barn underneath the hayloft was comparatively dry. Joe took out a battery lantern and searched the area, selecting a pile of ancient straw. The dog whimpered, but Ann Elise laid a hand on her side, caressing, soothing, examining, gauging from the movement and rigidity that labor was well underway.

  Joe quickly spread a tarp over the straw and set the lantern off to one side, illuminating the immediate area. “Delivery room’s prepped and waiting,” he said, sizing up the best way to transfer the patient.

  It took both of them, but they soon had her settled.

  “Notice the scars?” she murmured.

  Joe nodded. “Looks like our friend hasn’t led the easiest of lives. Wouldn’t be surprised if she needs a whole battery of shots, but those can wait.”

  And wait, they did. Waited while the gray daylight gradually faded. Waited while the wind eased around so that rain blew through the door. They were far enough from the opening so that it didn’t reach their corner, but the air was uncomfortably cold. Even wearing Joe’s leather jacket, Ann Elise was shivering. When she’d tried to give it back to him he’d refused to take it. Told her to toss it aside if she didn’t want it.

  Code of chivalry, she thought, and sneezed.

  “Bless you. I’ve got a blanket somewhere.”

  “It’s just the straw. Dust does that to me sometimes.” She needed to remove her contacts, but she’d left her glasses back at the house. Without them she was…well, hardly blind as a bat, but things would be pretty darn fuzzy. Something told her she would need all her senses at their sharpest for the next hour or so.

  Time was measured not in ticks of the clock but in raindrops splashing on something metal in another part of the barn. After a while Joe said, “You mentioned shopping for your children. I guess your whole family’s here with you?”

  She recognized it as a leading question. “Most of my family is already here. Faith and her two kids live here. And her fiancé. Marilou’s supposed to be coming in sometime today—certainly by tomorrow.” She sighed. “I’d better call and let Faith know what’s happened, if I may use your phone?”

  Uncoiling his lanky six-foot-three frame, he crossed to the truck and retrieved the cell phone just as a flash of lightning lit up the entire universe. It was coming more frequently now, but no closer, fortunately.

  Ann Elise punched in the numbers and waited. Faith’s voice, backed by Christmas music, came on. Quickly Ann Elise explained what had happened, fielding questions and
assuring her sister that no, she didn’t need a helicopter, and no, she wasn’t hungry—which was a lie. “Look, we’ll be fine, okay? We’re safe and dry, and as soon as the roads are clear, Joe’ll get us home.”

  “Joe? Not Joe Halloran! You mean he’s the one who came along and—” Ann Elise winced, wondering how acute his hearing was. “No kidding, you mean the same guy you went to the prom with back in the dark ages?”

  Closing her eyes, Ann Elise fielded her sister’s questions and ignored Joe’s knowing grin. Finally she broke in to say, “Look, tell the kids I want to see that tree fully decorated and vertical when I get there. Tell them I’ll take them shopping day after tomorrow at their favorite toy shop.”

  She ended the call and handed Joe his cell phone. “I just hate that, you know?” She was blushing. “I mean not being able to shop for Christmas. I should have done it before I left Dallas, but I kept having these visions of thousands of people lined up at security, having their carefully gift-wrapped packages ripped open.” She sighed. “I thought I was being so smart. Story of my life.”

  He chuckled softly, and mentally she translated the sound as callused fingers stroking velvet.

  God, woman, you are hopeless!

  “What about your family?” she asked brightly. She didn’t want to know, she really didn’t, but perhaps a shot of reality could dampen a few impractical dreams before they blazed out of control.

  In the brief silence that followed, the rain seemed to have let up, but the sky was still leaden and occasional rumbles of thunder sounded in the distance. Joe said, “They’re both doing pretty well,” and her heart plunged. “Considering Pop’s in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. Mom and I manage between us, but her arthritis gives her trouble, especially when the weather’s like this.”

  What about your wife? Ann Elise wanted to ask. Do you have one? And if not, why not? You must know you could have any single woman in Lone Star County, not to mention a few of the married ones.

  She wondered if he had, then decided she didn’t want to know. Lordamercy, thirty-two years old, and still clinging to an adolescent crush. It spoke volumes about the quality of her social life.

  “You didn’t mention a husband,” he ventured just as lightning illuminated the ruined farmhouse and a section of broken fence.

  It was surprisingly comfortable inside the barn, thanks to the army blanket Joe had supplied that smelled ever so faintly of horse. Fortunately, she wasn’t squeamish. Never had been, come to think of it, otherwise she might not have chosen to study veterinarian medicine.

  “No husband,” she said. “Past, present or future. What about you?”

  “Me neither. No husband in any of those categories,” he said, shooting her a grin. “No wife, either, for that matter.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. I mean…”

  “I know what you mean,” he said gently, and she was pretty sure he did. With anyone else, she would have come right out and asked if he was married, but Joe was different. With Joe, the question was intensely personal.

  They decided to call the dog Goldilocks until they found out her real name. She wasn’t wearing a collar and there was no sign she’d worn one in the recent past. Now Goldie struggled to stand, circled twice and lowered herself onto the tarp again. Joe felt her ear while Ann Elise checked another area. “So far she seems to have survived her dunking with no ill effects,” he said quietly.

  Ann Elise nodded, “Another few minutes and we’re going to start seeing some action. Once she starts, it should be—”

  “Like popping popcorn,” he finished.

  So they waited quietly in the dim, musty-smelling barn. Ann Elise sneezed occasionally, and Joe blessed her and teased her. There were birds on the rafters. Something small—probably mice—scrambled in the dark corners. Oddly enough, it only added to the coziness. The intimacy. She was every bit as aware of the man beside her as of the patient before her, which wasn’t her nature at all. The animal always came first. Always, as more than one owner had learned to their discomfort.

  Simply put, Joe was a major distraction, the older version even more intriguing than the young Joe of her dreams. The crow’s feet bracketing his eyes and a shadow of beard on that rock-bound jaw only added to the attraction. One of the things that had fascinated her most about the younger version was the contrast between his rugged features and a slow, sweet smile that could melt glaciers.

  Goldy wasn’t the only lady present who was panting.

  Joe rose and retrieved a box of latex gloves and a stack of clean, ragged towels from the truck. “Mom saves these for me,” he said, placing the towels on the edge of the tarp.

  “This obviously isn’t her first litter,” Ann Elise observed, and Joe nodded agreement. “That helps.” They both knew that first timers could be tricky, especially when they were seriously distressed.

  Now both watched for the first sign of trouble. The contractions were clearly visible. “I’d really like for her to do the job with as little outside interference as possible,” Ann Elise murmured, and again Joe nodded. He was a solid, reassuring presence at her side. His specialty was large animals, hers small, but in case help was needed, there were four experienced hands ready to take over.

  Now and then he voiced an observation. Now and then she did. Mostly they talked shop, although she was dying to ask about his personal life, past, present and future.

  But she didn’t, and so he related a few of his more memorable moments as a large animal vet, and she described some of the pitfalls of working with animal rescue. “For one thing,” she said, fluffing her drying hair with her fingers, “I live in an apartment. No yard, not even a patio. Animals are allowed, which was the only reason I took it, but animals in wholesale lots are discouraged. Most residents have a single pet—a few don’t have any. There are two African gray parrots in the apartment across the hall from mine, and let me tell you, they can make up in volume what they lack in size.”

  He laughed, and she went on to tell him about the schizophrenic Hillside Setter she’d had to find a home for, the three-legged Australian sheepdog, a Silky rooster that insisted on living inside and eating at the table with the two women who shared the apartment.

  “Who’s keeping the menagerie while you’re here?” Joe asked, amused because he’d done more or less the same thing in his early days. Adopted all the unwanteds, telling himself he’d find a home for them. Which he usually did—his own.

  “Believe it or not, I placed every single one. Dolly was one of the last to go—she’s a deaf kitten. I still miss her, but she wasn’t happy in my place. It faces north.”

  “Right,” he murmured. It faces north?

  Her hand had found its way inside his and absently—or not so absently—Joe caressed her knuckles with his thumb. He heard her catch her breath as if she’d just noticed what he was doing.

  “I happen to know this woman with a severe hearing loss,” she continued in a breathless rush. “Her husband’s somebody big in one of the energy companies, so he can afford it.”

  “Whoa, back up. He can afford his wife’s hearing loss?”

  “No, silly, the house. See, he built her this house that’s almost entirely of glass, because she’s so visually oriented. It’s like being outdoors, it’s so bright and sunny.”

  “Hmm, I can see a few drawbacks, but go ahead.”

  “Well, Dolly just loved it. Poor baby had been so withdrawn while I had her, but as soon as I took her to see Mattie she became a different animal. They both compensate the loss of one sense by sharpening others, so with all that light, all the visual stimuli—Dolly was curious, the way cats are. My place is not really dark, but it’s not real bright, either, especially in the winter. Like I said, Dolly just sort of moped when she was with me, but bless her heart, she explored every corner of that big old glass house in the first few minutes we were there. Then she curled up in the middle of the living room floor and watched everything that went on, inside and out.” Ann Elise leaned over and hu
gged her knees, warm with remembered satisfaction. “The two of them bonded right away, so that’s probably my very best real success story.”

  “Until now,” he said softly.

  They continued to watch Goldie. Somehow, Ann Elise’s head had found its way to Joe’s shoulder. “Here we go,” Joe whispered after a quarter of an hour passed in comfortable silence.

  She sat up and leaned forward as Joe moved around to the other side of the tarp.

  Chapter 5

  Outside, the rain tapered off. In one corner of the barn, marooned in a small circle of lantern light, Goldie attended her new family, nursing, nudging and bathing. Ann Elise wanted nothing so much as to cuddle each one, but the cuddling could come later, as could a closer examination. So far, Mama Goldilocks had done everything just right. For now, the bonding process was strictly a family affair, no strangers needed.

  “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” she murmured. Exhausted and hungry, she felt contentment steal over her like a warm blanket. It was enough to have played a part in the rescue of a half-drowned animal and to assist in the delivery when it became necessary. The rest could wait.

  And if there was another reason for her feeling of contentment, she didn’t want to think about it, not just yet.

  Seated beside her in the dusty old barn, Joe flexed his shoulders, then stretched both arms over his head. It occurred to her that he must have been under a terrific strain in that flooded creek, pulling his own weight along with Goldie’s eighty-odd pounds against the current. When he lowered his arms, one of them fell casually across her shoulders. Was he even aware of her as anything more than a convenient armrest?

  “Oh, yeah?” he jeered softly. “Wait a few months, you might change your tune. These guys aren’t going to win any beauty contests. I’m thinking boxer and maybe some German shepherd.”

  She shrugged. “They’ll be beautiful, regardless of their genes.”