You Shelter Me

Sample Chapter

Chapter One

Dash MacHardie loved a good blizzard. The more violent, the better. Swirling, pulsing curtains of pure white, blocking out everything beyond the next footstep. Cleansing—or at least covering over—everything in its path. If only he could be cleansed as well. But no matter how long he stood there, he knew his memories were too indelible to be wiped clean.

At least that was how he felt. Most days. Granted, not as many days as before, but the past still harped at him like a nagging girlfriend. Or wife. A nagging wife would be worse. And he continued to be quite happy he had neither.

He let loose a piercing whistle, calling Boomer to him. The shepherd gave a bark in reply, but Dash couldn’t see him through the snow. He waited, knowing his command would be obeyed, and moments later Boomer appeared before him, happy and panting, tongue hanging out.

Dash dropped down on one knee, oblivious to the cold and wet that seeped through the denim covering it. Curling his fingers behind Boomer’s ears and giving him a good scratch, he said, “You love this as much as I do, don’t you, boy? No more of that horrible desert sand for either of us. I promise.”

Boomer just grinned his doggy grin in reply.

“As soon as the weather is better, we’re going to run on the beach, okay? It’s a different kind of sand. I promise. And then swimming in the ocean. No guns. No bombs. No bangs or booms. No more of that for us, Boom. No more.”

Better weather couldn’t come soon enough. He had returned stateside late November, and winter had started early this year in Crabapple Landing. It had been unusually cold for the little town he’d grown up in on the Carolina Coast. But no matter how cold or wet or icy things got, he counted his blessings. He was home—safe and sound. Okay, maybe not so sound, but better than so many others. Others who didn’t make it home or didn’t make it home whole.

He had his life. He had Boomer. He had a home. He wanted nothing else—except peace and quiet forevermore.

He didn’t get an hour more, forget about forever. He sat, beer in hand, before a blazing fire when someone pounded on his front door. He had no inclination to get up, but Boomer went to the door, sniffed around it, then looked back at him and whined.

Dash shook his head and took another mouthful of beer. “Forget it. It’s just you and me, bud. No visitors allowed. Besides, no one even knows I’m home. And there’s no one here who would care, either.”

Okay, that probably wasn’t true, but he couldn’t know for sure.

Boomer came back and got in his face. He may not have the gift of speech but could communicate quite effectively. Especially when his teeth were an inch from your nose. He gave a rumbling growl, a pleading whine, then looked back at the door.

Dash gave in. “All right. All right. I’ll see who it is. But nobody is staying for a visit, you hear me?”

Clearly ignoring his master, Boomer hustled to the door, all excited.

Dash rolled his eyes at him. “You don’t like people, remember? Just me.”

Still grumbling, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. And had to overcome a powerful desire to slam it closed again. Which wouldn’t have worked, because Boomer, who really didn’t like too many people, was out the door and acting like it was his long-lost bestie on the front porch.

She wasn’t. Brooke Carrington had never been any type of friend, certainly not a best friend.

Yet there she stood—slender, blonde, big brown eyes. He would know her anywhere.

⪼ ∞ ⪻

Brooke took a little leap back when the dog lunged at her. She tried to halt the terrified squeak that slipped past her lips but didn’t quite manage it. The dog just gave her a happy look, then began to sniff around her feet—until he lifted his head and stuck his nose in her crotch. This time she didn’t try to restrain the leap or the squeak. Not even giving a thought to those big teeth, she took him by the head and tried to shove him back as she moved away.

“Boomer! Get back here!”

The man who had answered the door gave her an appalled glance as he grabbed the dog by his collar and pulled him back further. Glaring down at the dog, he said, “Sit!” in a very scary voice, then turned that voice on her.

“I’m sorry. He’s not very well socialized. And you shouldn’t be here, anyway. Go home.”

He hauled the dog inside and started to close the door.

“No! No, wait. Please, I need help.”

The door continued its motion toward her, and desperation egged her on. She leapt forward a step and put her palms to the door, determined to halt its movement.

“Please. It’s all right. I’m not afraid of the dog. He didn’t scare me or hurt me, just… Well, he invaded my space. And I really need help. Something’s wrong with my car. I had to stop a few miles from here, and this is the first house I’ve come to since. I dropped my phone. There wasn’t any reception where I had to stop, so I got out and walked, trying to find a spot where I got a few bars. But, I… Well, um… I wasn’t watching where I was walking, and I slipped on some ice. When I fell, my phone pretty much flew. It crashed against a tree, then rolled down the side of a hill. So, I, um… Can I come in? To use your phone? And maybe warm up? I could really use your washroom too.”

She was so caught up in her nervous rambling—she talked way too much when feeling insecure—she didn’t notice when the door reversed direction and jerked open, leaving her hands pressed to thin air.

Her scream didn’t even have time to pass lips. With lightning-fast reflexes, he caught her by the shoulders before she did a face plant into his chest. And now that she wasn’t wrestling with the dog, she couldn’t help but notice it was a very fine chest. The fitted, long-sleeved T-shirt he wore tucked into a pair of well-worn jeans didn’t hide the fact he was very fit. She also couldn’t help but notice that as soon as she was steady on her feet, he jerked his hands away from her as if he’d touched sulfuric acid.

And she was starting to wonder if maybe she’d be safer out there in the blizzard. Freezing to death might not be the way to go, but it was a whole lot better than most of the other ways she was starting to envision.

“Ah, look. Could I just use your cell phone? Do you get reception here? I’ll just make a call and wait out here for a ride, okay?”

He didn’t say anything, just scrubbed his hands over his face. And then held them there. The dog gave a little whine, seeming to sense something, and leaned against the man’s leg for a moment. Then he moved forward, pressed himself between them, then turned around and pretty much sat on her feet.

They were all silent until the dog whined again, which made the man remove his hands from his face and stare at them.

With a look of disgust, he addressed the dog first. “Have you been taken over by a body snatcher? I guess whoever’s in there doesn’t know you don’t like strangers.”

The look he turned on her made her take a step back. “Look, Brooke…”

She gasped. “How do you know my name?”

The disgust he’d given the dog now speared her. “Really? How do I know your name? You haven’t changed, have you? Still the princess, so far above everyone else.”

Tropes

Small town
Second chance
Grumpy sunshine
Forced proximity
Sworn off relationships
Emotional scars
PTSD