dressed in jeans that didn’t smell like an ashtray and grabbed a pair of socks from his bag.
Coffee. He needed coffee and food. Three hours of lying in bed not sleeping had left his whole body cramped and his head achy. Yeah, right. His crankiness had nothing to do with the erotic thoughts that stemmed from seeing Mandy in her pajamas and robe. He was ridiculous. She’d been covered from head to toe in more flannel than Mrs. Walton, for crying out loud. There was nothing sexy about flannel. Except on her. Her mussed hair and sleepy eyes had given him a clear image of her in bed, which was great until he remembered she had a boyfriend.
Disappointment crawled into Danny’s chest and got comfortable. He’d known coming up here that she was taken. Hell, he’d saved her man’s life. So what was his deal? Jed may not be fully recovered, but he had a business breeding and training hunting dogs and, hopefully, a future that included a return to guidingtourists through the wilderness. Danny was a damaged veteran with no immediate prospects. His siblings didn’t really need him to run the tavern, and Sullivan’s could only support a limited number of people. Returning to the army wasn’t an option. So what was he going to do with the rest of his life?
The only goal on his horizon was figuring out what happened to Nathan Hall. As far as goals went, it was a huge freaking long shot. The only things he’d managed to accomplish so far were pissing off Mandy and burning Reed’s house down. The phone call to Reed should be fun.
He turned on the TV and checked the weather. Same as yesterday. Sunny. Cold in the morning. Warmer in the afternoon. Possible rain later in the week. Danny flipped to the news. Stalling. Yup. That’s what he was doing.
Shit.
He could skip breakfast and slip out without seeing her at all. No. Being love-struck as a high schooler over Mandy Brown didn’t give him an excuse to backslide. According to his therapist, avoiding uncomfortable situations wasn’t healthy. His recovery from post-traumatic stress was more than a slippery slope. As last night’s trip to flashback land had demonstrated, it wouldn’t take much to send him careening over the cliff he’d clawed his way up last winter. Discipline had been a key to his recovery. So he would eat regular meals, exercise, and attempt to get enough sleep. In a couple of hours, he’d make the call to Reed and fess up. And he’d face Mandy Brown.
Dammit. He’d be healthy even if it killed him.
A news clip showed a reporter standing outside a large brick building. The caption read M USEUM T HEFT B AFFLES B ANGOR PD.
“The theft of a collection of Celtic artifacts baffles Bangor police. Last night, thieves bypassed more valuable pieces to stealitems from a Celtic collection on loan from a Scottish museum. With no sign of a forced break-in, detectives are trying to determine how the thieves gained entry to the building.” When the clip ended, Danny switched off the TV. Anything Celtic set off his internal sensors. He needed access to a computer. Maybe Mandy would let him use her laptop. And on that note, it was time to get moving.
He grabbed his running shoes from the corner and shoved one foot in a sneaker, then the other. Dropping to one knee, he tied shoe number one. By the time he got to number two, his bum hand was shaking so hard he couldn’t hold on to the laces.
His chest burned. Sometimes, the smallest roadblocks were the hardest to overcome. He swallowed his frustration. This was what he wanted when he volunteered for this trip, wasn’t it? To be on his own. To not have his siblings there to jump in and help him with everything. More than a year after his war injury and medical discharge, Danny had come to the conclusion that the only way to reenter the pool of self-reliant humans was a giant swan dive. Testing the waters with a pinky toe only gave him more opportunities to quit.
After three more attempts, Danny gave up. If he rested
Coffee. He needed coffee and food. Three hours of lying in bed not sleeping had left his whole body cramped and his head achy. Yeah, right. His crankiness had nothing to do with the erotic thoughts that stemmed from seeing Mandy in her pajamas and robe. He was ridiculous. She’d been covered from head to toe in more flannel than Mrs. Walton, for crying out loud. There was nothing sexy about flannel. Except on her. Her mussed hair and sleepy eyes had given him a clear image of her in bed, which was great until he remembered she had a boyfriend.
Disappointment crawled into Danny’s chest and got comfortable. He’d known coming up here that she was taken. Hell, he’d saved her man’s life. So what was his deal? Jed may not be fully recovered, but he had a business breeding and training hunting dogs and, hopefully, a future that included a return to guidingtourists through the wilderness. Danny was a damaged veteran with no immediate prospects. His siblings didn’t really need him to run the tavern, and Sullivan’s could only support a limited number of people. Returning to the army wasn’t an option. So what was he going to do with the rest of his life?
The only goal on his horizon was figuring out what happened to Nathan Hall. As far as goals went, it was a huge freaking long shot. The only things he’d managed to accomplish so far were pissing off Mandy and burning Reed’s house down. The phone call to Reed should be fun.
He turned on the TV and checked the weather. Same as yesterday. Sunny. Cold in the morning. Warmer in the afternoon. Possible rain later in the week. Danny flipped to the news. Stalling. Yup. That’s what he was doing.
Shit.
He could skip breakfast and slip out without seeing her at all. No. Being love-struck as a high schooler over Mandy Brown didn’t give him an excuse to backslide. According to his therapist, avoiding uncomfortable situations wasn’t healthy. His recovery from post-traumatic stress was more than a slippery slope. As last night’s trip to flashback land had demonstrated, it wouldn’t take much to send him careening over the cliff he’d clawed his way up last winter. Discipline had been a key to his recovery. So he would eat regular meals, exercise, and attempt to get enough sleep. In a couple of hours, he’d make the call to Reed and fess up. And he’d face Mandy Brown.
Dammit. He’d be healthy even if it killed him.
A news clip showed a reporter standing outside a large brick building. The caption read M USEUM T HEFT B AFFLES B ANGOR PD.
“The theft of a collection of Celtic artifacts baffles Bangor police. Last night, thieves bypassed more valuable pieces to stealitems from a Celtic collection on loan from a Scottish museum. With no sign of a forced break-in, detectives are trying to determine how the thieves gained entry to the building.” When the clip ended, Danny switched off the TV. Anything Celtic set off his internal sensors. He needed access to a computer. Maybe Mandy would let him use her laptop. And on that note, it was time to get moving.
He grabbed his running shoes from the corner and shoved one foot in a sneaker, then the other. Dropping to one knee, he tied shoe number one. By the time he got to number two, his bum hand was shaking so hard he couldn’t hold on to the laces.
His chest burned. Sometimes, the smallest roadblocks were the hardest to overcome. He swallowed his frustration. This was what he wanted when he volunteered for this trip, wasn’t it? To be on his own. To not have his siblings there to jump in and help him with everything. More than a year after his war injury and medical discharge, Danny had come to the conclusion that the only way to reenter the pool of self-reliant humans was a giant swan dive. Testing the waters with a pinky toe only gave him more opportunities to quit.
After three more attempts, Danny gave up. If he rested
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