Soul Scars (Dog Haven Sanctuary Romance) (9 page)

She said goodnight to them all once they reached the cabin, and her spirit sank a little when she noticed Vince’s pickup wasn’t there. But Calliope still was, and on the table sat a new note.

I’m back. I’m good. Thank you for taking care of Calliope. I’m not certain whether I’m supposed to have her while she’s being trained, but I took her and Joker for a walk and returned them. Can we speak tomorrow? V.

Sure, Vince, we can speak tomorrow and thanks for the entirely normal note.
She really hoped his words reflected some sort of contentment he’d found out there, no matter how temporary it might be.

The following morning at eight, she phoned Vince, hoping it wouldn’t be too early. He sounded well and promised to come right over and meet her at home. When he climbed out of his pickup twenty minutes later, she noticed how thin he seemed to be.

“Did you forget your rations out there?”

He grinned. “Nice, Lulah, have you ever tried that stuff?” Calliope and Joker launched themselves from the porch and were bouncing around Vince who wrestled with them until he spied a tug-rope on the ground. He dangled it in the air, the two dogs leaping for it in vain. Finally, he hurled it across the yard. “Go play,” he ordered, and the dogs hurtled off.

“Nope. My mouth would rebel if I tried to put rubbish like that in it. I have coffee, muesli, eggs, toast. Come in and eat something.”

He took her porch steps in one leap and made it to her door before her, holding it open. Inside, he started making toast as Lulah filled two bowls with muesli and fruit. She pushed one towards him and passed him the yogurt from the fridge. “Start eating and don’t stop until I say. You look as though you’ve dropped ten pounds.”

“Sorry, Mom,” he teased, pointing to his bowl with his spoon. “This is good. Where did you buy it?”

“I made it. I don’t like that commercial stuff; it’s too sweet. Now keep eating. How many eggs would you like?”

He held up two fingers.

When the eggs and toast were ready, they headed out to the porch table to eat.

Lulah watched as Vince buttered his toast, took a bite, and grinned at her.

“That little trip you took—scary as that was for me—seems to have done you some good. Please, next time, remember to take some food. You could at least pack a Soldier Fuel bar.”

“I’d rather have this,” he waved a loaded fork in the air. “I’m feeling a lot better. Real sorry if I scared you; that was the last thing I intended to do.”

If she mentioned that his note concerned her, he would shut off communication. “Fine, really, it’s fine. Bit of a surprise to be honest. What set you off? Was it working with Mike and Calliope?”

He stared back, the unease returned to his face.

“Sorry…boundary, yeah?”

Vince placed his fork on his plate and rubbed at his face. When he pulled his hands away, he appeared as if he had come to a decision. “Taryn filed for divorce.”

He’d done it again—that way he paused before throwing out a response without softening it or easing a person into it. Lulah waited in case there was anything he wanted to add.

“It knocked me. I don’t know why, because we separated more than a year ago. It was always going to happen. She needs to move on with her life, and neither of us…well, we don’t work together. What I’m frightened of is having my access to Gable blocked. I’m not going to make trouble, but I’m not certain about custody. God knows, I can’t take care of Gable, and she needs her mom. With my deployment and our separation, she’s spent most of her life with her mom. But, hell, I need to see her, too.”

“You need a lawyer, Vince. Please, promise me you won’t sign anything without having someone go over the papers with you?”

He looked back at his plate. “Good eggs.”

Nice try, Hot Guy, but this discussion hasn’t finished.
“Vince, please, promise me you will have everything explained.”

Suddenly, he laughed.

“What?”

“You should see your face.”

“My face is funny? Thanks, friend.”

He leaned across the table. “Your face is beautiful. Your concern is funny.”

“My concern is genuine.”

“Are we going to spend the morning adjusting each other’s impressions?”

And wouldn’t I love to do that?
Lulah leaned in to meet him. “Promise me you will talk to a lawyer.”

“I’m meeting a lawyer at eleven today.”

“In which case, I will take Calliope to school.”

“Is that okay? It’s just…”

Lulah shook her head. “No problem. There’s a bunch of stuff for her and I to tackle. For now, I’m happy that you join in when you can. I’ll work with Mike, because I have a whole lot to learn about this, too. Further along, you’ll have to come along for intensive training.”

“Can I pick her up later?”

“Sure, if you miss us at the Sanctuary, come by here.”

“I’ll be here. I want to work on Gable’s wagon.”

“Good.” Lulah pushed her chair out and started to clear the plates. Vince stood to help and followed her inside. As she ran water in the sink to rinse the dishes, she felt Vince’s hands grip her shoulders. She stilled, and he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

“Thank you, Lulah, for everything.” He spoke into her hair, his whisper harsh, his breath hot, and the weight of his words, loaded with stuff he couldn’t yet express, kept her still. She reached up to touch a hand to his, but he pulled away and left the cabin. Calliope was at his side by the time he made the door. He crouched and kissed the top of her head, too. “Wait here, babe; I promise I’ll be back for you.”

Chapter 8

E
XCEPT FOR THE wheels and fixing the backplate once the paint dried, Gable’s wagon was ready. The wagon itself had received its final coat, and all Vince needed was the new set of wheels he had ordered, and the work would be finished. He would drive over to see her on Saturday and deliver the wagon.

There were so many projects he wanted to start. Some called out impatiently. Some, like the carousel horse sitting quietly in the shadows, remained enchanting and demure. He’d carved a sign for a B&B in town, and now two other businesses asked him to meet and discuss new signage. It was the sort of work he loved. It paid well and satisfied his creative side, but he needed to concentrate more on meeting deadlines.

He’d set up his drawing board at the bench beneath a window that allowed him a view across the yard. Glancing out the window, he wondered on which track Lulah and the dogs would appear. She had left on her mountain bike this morning, so she could return by a number of different routes. Needing a focus, he decided to finally uncover the carousel horse and make a plan for its restoration.

Minutes later, the barking dogs grabbed his attention, and he searched for Lulah with that tricky mix of eagerness and apprehension. He’d had this picture flash of her in the vehicle with Mike as they passed him on the road when they drove into town the other night, and they looked right for each other. With that image came the knowledge that they were the ones spending each day together. He recalled how Mike made her laugh and how the storm clouds rolled in on his mood as he’d watched. If there was one thing he knew, it was that anything emotional for him was the IED—Improvised Explosive Device—on the road. One little bump and he’d detonate. Right then, he decided to shut down all of these niggling attractions he felt for Lulah. What was he thinking? Mike was perfect for her.

What the hell? Since when had Lulah’s personal life become his concern?

He went back to work on the sketch for the broken trappings on the carousel horse. The damaged fairy was almost wingless, so he’d start with that. He reached for his pencil as the door pushed open with an initial creak, and the way the sunlight spilled through cleaved the shadow on the floor of the barn. It illuminated a path between him and Lulah, and she stood there at the entrance, giving him a simple smile. He wanted to go to her. He really wanted to but…
Hell, IED, remember?
He gripped the pencil, forcing all his energy—his thoughts about Mike, his anxiety—through its tip, while keeping his gaze on her.

Looking at her was a banquet. Both greedy and nourishing in one hit.

He thought she would break the spell with a quick,
‘Hi, what are you up to?’,
but she did something so different, so unlike the way other people treated him. Mostly, others dealt with him quickly, using that awkward
give the beggar a bun and make him leave before he creates a scene
method.

But not Lulah.

She was still smiling, although she did more than that. She had hooked into his gaze, then beyond his gaze and right into his eyes. She took him in, slowly, gently, with no retreat, until he felt as though she watched his soul. Scanning it, seeing the hurt, assessing him like a paramedic’s on-arrival summing up of an accident victim. The smile slid from her mouth until her lips pursed in this little way, curious, because she kept on reading, seeing his soul scars, making an inventory.
She sees the scars.

Lulah kept watching, and he stayed locked in, because throughout that strange eternity of only a few moments, she made him feel more human than he had experienced in a long time. She identified his soul, and even though he couldn’t get near it himself, she made him believe maybe it was still there.

She blinked, her eyelids like the slow drift of a curtain, withdrawing gently from the intensity of what they’d shared. He watched as her gaze made a steady sweep of the workshop, fixing on the carousel horse. Smiling, she walked over to it. “Oh, wow,” she murmured, sliding her fingertips over the crest of the neck, carefully, as if not to disturb any flakes of paint.

Now she stood in the cross of two shafts of sunlight as if illuminated on a stage. He stepped up to her, gripped her arms, and pulled her against him. “I don’t want to need you.” His mouth pressed against her hair, his whisper fierce, the words delivered and spaced with care so that there could be no chance of misinterpretation.

“I understand. I feel the same,” she replied.

The heat of her breath warmed his chest. Holding her against him like this was so fantastic that he never wanted to let her go. But that one little admission from her brought him back to reality. He liked her way too much to make this anxiety part of her daily life.

IED, remember?

They released each other, and Lulah moved to the wagon, running her fingertips over it the way she had on the horse. “It looks finished?”

Vince exhaled. Reality. “I’m waiting for the wheels, and it’s done. They should be ready to pick up tomorrow.” Reality, to be honest, was that he wanted her fingertips trailing over him.

He leaned back against the workbench. “How did little Calliope perform today?”

Lulah’s grin broadened. “Oh, Calliope is such a star. Mike thinks she’s one of the best dogs he’s dealt with. She has such an affinity for this work, but I guess that showed the first day she hooked up with you. Calliope saw what a hot guy you are and decided she wasn’t letting you go.” She winked.

As if on cue, Calliope wandered into the workshop and sat at his feet, her warm body resting against his legs. He reached down and stroked her head. Although they joked around now, he still couldn’t quiet the chaos. “She sees through the damage.”

“Through the rubble,” Lulah added. “She’s a rubble rouser!”

Vince laughed.

Lulah stepped back from the wagon. “I’ve some work to finish writing up. Do you have time this evening to go over it? Tonight’s bribe is arugula, goat cheese, lentils, walnuts…that sort of stuff.”

“Sure. I’ll be over in an hour.”
I’ll settle myself down. Check myself off that little fantasy flight I took.
Calliope stayed at his feet when Lulah and Joker left the workshop. “Thanks, babe,” he said as he touched her head. Little jabs of concern plagued him that, because of her daily training sessions without him, she might shift her alliance to Lulah or, worse, Mike.

Lulah was sorting her mail when he arrived on her porch, so he took a seat and waited. Quiet was something he was good at, and he used the time to take in Lulah’s stuff, the things she surrounded herself with in her daily life. On the floor by her bed lay an old folk art rug with a primitive-looking creature, probably a dog, featuring in the center. The chairs were an assortment, a couple of Mission pieces in varying states of repair. He could fix those for her. The table was a Stickley, and the entire cabin and porch were like a step back in time.