of age seem more arbitrary than anything else.
Perhaps you’ve been looking in the wrong places, Bellamy Reeves.
Catching herself staring, she refocused on Alex. “You’re responsible for his training?”
“A good part of it. There’s a formal program for the entire K-9 team and their handlers, but we’re paired. He lives with me and works with me.”
She glanced down at the now-sleeping puppy and considered what that must be like. Fun, in a way, but what a responsibility. “What will he be able to do?”
“Once he’s fully trained? He’ll run the gamut on what he can find, including humans, drugs and bombs.”
“Wow.”
As she eyed the jean-clad form that even now leaned against her counter, she had to admit Donovan Colton made an impressive figure. And it wasn’t just his body, though she could hardly deny that she found him attractive.
Wow was right.
There was an intensity about him. Some indefinable quality that intrigued her.
He was interesting. And she’d often found the opposite of attractive men, especially if her sister’s long list of past boyfriends was any indication. It was as if somehow masculine features, a firm jaw and a sparkling smile negated any sense of humanity or interest in the world around them.
But not this guy.
“The K-9 team is designed to work across cases so we can go where we’re needed. There are six others in the APD. Alex and I will make seven.”
“It’s impressive. And while he’s obviously got great promise, you’ve got a big year ahead of you. I wish you the best.”
“Thanks.” Donovan’s gaze dropped toward the sleeping puppy before lifting back to her. “So if you don’t work here, what do you do?”
“I’m an employee at Lone Star Pharmaceutical. I’m just helping out here since my parents had plans tonight.”
“LSP. That’s impressive. Are you a chemist or something?”
“No, I’m in finance.” Ignoring the whisper through her mind of Maggie’s continued admonitions to showcase herself in the best light, Bellamy pressed on. “They’re wise to keep me away from beakers. Other than warming things up in a microwave, I avoid anything that involves cooking or open flames.”
“Maybe I should consider inviting you to dinner, then, instead of risking you making anything behind that counter for me.”
“Maybe.”
“What time do you get off tonight?”
“I close up at ten and this is small town Texas. Nothing’s open then.”
“What about next week?”
“Sure. I—” She broke off when a distracted air came over his face, his hand dropping to the phone clipped at the waist of his jeans.
“I’m sorry. I’m getting a dispatch.”
He excused himself and moved around the counter toward the door, his gaze morphing from friendly and sexy to straight cop.
Alex stirred, his senses on immediate alert at the emotional change in the atmosphere. He was on his feet and scrambling toward Donovan in a heartbeat. When he reached Donovan, he sat immediately, his little body arrow straight.
Bellamy marveled at it, the ease and trust she could already see between the two of them. If the dog was this responsive to training at ten weeks, she couldn’t imagine what he’d become once fully grown.
The low tenor of Donovan’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. Something had happened. Something bad, if his clipped responses were any indication.
“I’m sorry. I have to go. Can we take a rain check on that dinner?”
“Of course.”
The sexy cop and his trusty sidekick were out of the store as fast as they came in and for several moments, Bellamy simply stood and watched the door where they’d disappeared, wondering if the evening had actually happened.
It was only when she got the call a half hour later that she knew the exact accident Donovan Colton was called to. And that the people he’d helped pull from two tons of wreckage were her parents.
The last strains of “Jingle Bells” faded out, giving way to “All I Want for Christmas Is You” as Bellamy Reeves clicked the last email in her inbox. Despite the multicolored lights she’d hung in her office and the music she’d determinedly turned on each morning and kept on low throughout the day, nothing seemed to get her in the holiday spirit.
Losing both parents over the summer had left a hole in her life and in her heart. She’d braced herself, of course, well aware the holidays would be a challenge. But even with the knowledge the season wouldn’t be the same, she’d diligently clung to the belief she could find some sense of joy, somewhere.
How wrong she’d been.
The days seemed to drag, no matter how busy she made herself, and her job at Lone Star Pharmaceutical—a job she’d worked hard at for several years—couldn’t fill the gaps.
“One more email,” she whispered to herself on a resigned sigh. “I’ll do the last one and cut out early.”
The company was estimated to finish out the year with stellar earnings, and management had given everyone an extra day of comp time as a reward for all the hard work. Most people had used the time to go shopping for presents in nearby Austin or to take in the pretty decorations scattered throughout downtown Whisperwood. She’d done none of those things, not up for walking the sidewalks and making small talk with her fellow townsfolk.
Which had also meant she was still sitting on the extra time. Perhaps an afternoon off would provide a chance to recharge and shake the malaise that seemed determined to hover around her shoulders.
She missed her parents terribly, but it was also the first holiday in more than she could remember that wasn’t encumbered by illness. Her father’s loss of mobility five years before had taken a toll on all of them and her life had been filled with pill bottles, a wheelchair and ramps throughout the house, and bouts of belligerence that telegraphed DJ Reeves’s frustration with his body’s betrayal.
It hardly spoke well of her, that she was relieved that stage of life had passed, but in her quiet moments of honest reflection she could admit it was true.
Illness. Suffering. And an endless sort of wasting away that stole the joy out of life. All of it had affected her mother as surely as her father’s loss of mobility in the accident had decimated his. Where her mother had once found joy in simple pleasures—gardening or cooking or even a glass of wine—watching her husband deteriorate had caused a matched response. Ginny Reeves had wasted away as surely as her husband had and nothing Bellamy had tried could coax her out of it.
The
