A Conard County Homecoming Read online

  Man’s—And Woman’s?—Best Friend

  Conard County’s returning war hero is a world away from the popular high school athlete Ashley Granger remembers. Zane McLaren doesn’t want any fanfare—he doesn’t want any human contact at all. But it seems Zane’s affectionate golden retriever has other ideas about the decorated soldier and the teacher next door!

  Wounded in battle, Zane wants only to be left alone. He doesn’t need anyone’s pity, especially his outgoing, dog-loving neighbor’s. Because it isn’t just Ashley’s legendary apple pie that’s tempting Zane to quit hiding from life. Suddenly the Purple Heart recipient is having a hard time keeping his own heart under wraps. Has he found the woman who can help him heal the past and build a loving future together?

  “Come in?” he asked Ashley as they parked in his driveway.

  She didn’t hesitate, which relieved him. “Sure,” she said and climbed out.

  His own exit took a little longer, and Ashley was waiting for him on the porch by the time he rolled up the ramp.

  Nell took a quick dash in the yard, then followed eagerly into the house. The dog was good at fitting in her business when she had the chance.

  “Stay for a while,” he asked Ashley. “I can offer you a soft drink if you’d like.”

  She held up her latte cup. “Still plenty here.”

  He rolled into the kitchen and up to the table, where he placed the box holding his extra meal. He didn’t go into the living room much. Getting on and off the sofa was a pain, hardly worth the effort most of the time. He supposed he could hang a bar in there like he had over his bed so he could pull himself up and over, but he hadn’t felt particularly motivated yet.

  But then, almost before he knew what he was doing, he tugged on Ashley’s hand until she slid onto his lap.

  “If I’m outta line, tell me,” he said gruffly. “No social skills, like I said.”

  He watched one corner of her mouth curve upward. “I don’t usually like to be manhandled. However, this time I think I’ll make an exception.”

  * * *

  CONARD COUNTY: THE NEXT GENERATION

  Dear Reader,

  Those of you who have been with me for a while in Conard County have probably noticed my concern with our returning vets and their problems, especially PTSD. That has been a cause of mine for a long, long time.

  Since it has finally been accepted that PTSD is a real syndrome, efforts have been ongoing to find better ways to treat it and better ways to help people deal with it. Advances have been made in terms of medication and therapy, but there’s not one magic solution that works for everyone. Many times it can only be eased.

  Service dogs have recently come into the picture. They are able to sense the PTSD victim’s beginning distress and give a warning to get the sufferer to a safer place. Sometimes the dogs themselves are enough to provide stability when the world goes crazy, and can pull the victim back from the edge and keep them calm and anchored in the present.

  In this story our hero, Zane, not only suffers from PTSD, he is also a paraplegic in a wheelchair. Like many of the people I have known who are paralyzed, he deals well with his physical disability, choosing to accept it as a challenge. But Zane also has PTSD, and his service dog, Nell, does more than pick up his socks or open doors. She calls him back.

  She also brings Ashley into his life, a schoolteacher with a huge heart. Nell is apparently determined that Zane not remain alone.

  A Conard County Homecoming

  Rachel Lee

  Rachel Lee was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

  Books by Rachel Lee

  Harlequin Special Edition

  Conard County: The Next Generation

  The Lawman Lassoes a Family

  A Conard County Baby

  Reuniting with the Rancher

  Thanksgiving Daddy

  The Widow of Conard County

  Montana Mavericks: 20 Years in the Saddle!

  A Very Maverick Christmas

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Conard County: The Next Generation

  Guardian in Disguise

  The Widow’s Protector

  Rancher’s Deadly Risk

  What She Saw

  Rocky Mountain Lawman

  Killer’s Prey

  Deadly Hunter

  Snowstorm Confessions

  Undercover Hunter

  Playing with Fire

  Conard County Witness

  A Secret in Conard County

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  To Ashley R. Granger, a very sweet lady who offered to let me use her name for a character. Thanks, Ashley!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Excerpt from The Chase by Vanessa Fewings

  Chapter One

  Zane McLaren pulled into the driveway after dark. Operating the hand controls of his van with the ease of familiarity, he parked so that the newly constructed ramp would be near the sliding door in the side of the van.

  It was ready. His old family home had been prepped for his wheelchair existence, and only the service dog on the front seat beside him seemed happy to realize the journey had ended. Nell, a golden Lab, woofed her approval as he turned the engine off.

  Arriving after dark had been a choice. By now everyone in Conard County, Wyoming, who cared to hear about it knew that Zane McLaren was coming home for the first time since his parents’ funerals nearly fifteen years ago, and the ramps he’d had constructed before his arrival let them know his condition if they hadn’t already heard from workmen or his housekeeper.

  The fat had probably already been chewed over by those who remembered: great high school athlete in a wheelchair nearly twenty years later as a result of his military service. Heads had shaken, and curiosity had awakened.

  The thought of that curiosity had brought him home in the darkness. He wasn’t ready to face a parade of well-wishers, many of whom would be mostly interested in discovering how bad off he was.

  He’d lost the use of his legs two years before. Rehab had followed, then adaptation to his new life. Now he just wanted to be left alone. He’d have been more anonymous in a city, but the wars had left him with other scars, too. He couldn’t handle the noise, the traffic, the constant crush of people. He needed quiet and solitude, and he figured this was the best place to get it. Once everyone understood he just wanted to be left alone, they’d leave him alone. As he seemed to remember, people in this town were mostly respectful.

  If it didn’t work out, he’d sell the house and move on. There was nothing holding him anywhere now.

  He pivoted the driver’s seat and used his arms to lift hims
elf into the wheelchair behind. Ready to go. Nell jumped off her seat and came to stand beside him, her tail swishing happily.

  She was probably desperate to hit the grass, he thought with mild amusement. After locking himself in place, he pressed a button. The van door pulled open. The pneumatic lift extended itself, carrying him outside. Then another button lowered him to the ground. When he’d rolled off, Nell jumped to do her part. She nosed yet another button, the lift rose and retracted, and the door eased closed. He scratched her ears, letting him know he was pleased with her. She grinned back at him, happy.

  “Go do your stuff,” he told her.

  She didn’t need a second suggestion. She dashed immediately to the grass and began sniffing around. Apparently, the choice of where to relieve herself required some investigation.

  Smiling faintly, he reached for the wheels of his chair and pushed himself toward the ramp. It felt sturdy beneath him; the slope was gentle enough, with a surface that had been roughened with outdoor carpeting to prevent slipping. Safe in the rain. Heating wires below for the snow. Perfect for his needs.

  He reached the porch and pivoted, waiting for Nell. For the first time, it occurred to him that he might need to hire someone to clean up after her. He could do it unless the ground became soggy enough to bog down on, or the snow too deep. Little things. It was most often the little things that caused him problems now and often took him by surprise. He already had a handle on most of the big things.

  Sitting still, waiting for his dog, he allowed the autumn chill to start reaching him. A lot of warmth came from movement, as he’d learned, and he wasn’t moving much at the moment. Still, he waited patiently. Nell was on new ground and probably needed to check it all out. He didn’t have the heart to interrupt her.

  At last Nell finished up and came racing to his side. He unlocked the front door with a key that was as old as he was, and together he and his dog entered his old home, flicking on lights as he went. He ignored the stairway to the two upstairs bedrooms. That part of the house was unavailable to him—not that he needed it.

  The house smelled different, but it had been thoroughly cleaned, and work had been done inside to ready things for him, like a new shower and a sturdy framework over his bed. Eventually, if he decided to stay, he’d have to change the kitchen as well, but that was going to be an expensive proposition. Right now he could manage well enough with standard counter heights and sinks. He’d had to learn.

  The dog bowls were waiting, and he quickly filled one with water and bent to place it in Nell’s new feeding stand. Most things he’d been able to ship ahead, but some had had to be replaced. This was one of them. While she lapped water eagerly, he went to the pantry and found that the housekeeper he’d hired had filled it as directed. Everything was on the lower shelves or floors, nothing too high for him to reach. The bag of dog food in one corner was the first thing he grabbed. Nell had been awfully patient today, and she danced eagerly as he filled her bowl. Instead of putting the bag away, he set it to one side for the moment.

  Opening the refrigerator wasn’t exactly easy, as it was a tight space for him in his chair. He knew Nell could do it for him if he just tied a towel to the handle, but he was jealous of every bit of independence he could protect.

  Opening it, he found everything he’d requested. For now he just grabbed a beer.

  Home. He wondered if he’d ever feel he was home again.

  Then he heard the knock on his front door and almost decided not to answer it. He’d come here to be by himself and didn’t want a tide of well-meaning or curious neighbors sweeping through. Ignore it, he thought.

  * * *

  Ashley Granger knocked on Zane’s front door, a little nervous but determined. His housekeeper, Carol Cathcart, had worked with her for years as an aide at her school before taking this job with Zane, and the two had become friends of sorts. Carol had been the one to mention Zane was arriving today.

  In her hand, Ashley held a warm Dutch apple pie she’d made after school as a welcoming gift for Zane. Ashley had thought a pie would be a nice gesture. Especially her famous Dutch apple.

  She remembered Zane from school, sort of. She’d been five years behind him, which had precluded a friendship of any kind, but it was hard not to be aware of him. A great athlete, popular, good-looking...everyone knew Zane, if only at a distance. Then he’d left to join the military, and the last time she’d seen him had been at his father’s funeral years ago. His mother had died a year earlier.

  Which meant he had few ties with this town, nearly twenty years later. She was kind of surprised he’d choose to come back here, but he had, and it seemed to her that an apple pie was the least she could do.

  She rapped again, but there was no answer. He might need time to get to the front door—she really had no idea how mobile he was now—or maybe he was already in bed. He must have had a long drive. Glancing at her watch yet again, she thought that nine o’clock didn’t seem so late, but this was probably a different time zone for him.

  Well, the pie would hold until tomorrow.

  She had just started turning away when the door opened and a rough voice said, “What do you want?”

  Okay, that was a pleasant opening. She had a bit of a temper, and it flared now. She faced him. “Nothing. I was just going to give you a pie.”

  But in an instant her mind took a snapshot of a broad-shouldered man, still wearing a jacket, sitting in a wheelchair. Beside him, a golden Lab stood watch. God, was it possible the years had made Zane more attractive? The boy had become a man, even more appealing.

  Dark eyes, dark hair a little on the shaggy side, the same strong jaw, but older. Much older. The years had taken a toll, leaving his face weathered and a bit lined. Harsh suns and winds, and maybe losing the use of his legs.

  “Of course,” she continued stiffly, “if you don’t want it...”

  But then he pushed his chair back from the door. “Come in,” he said gruffly.

  On legs that felt rigid for some reason, she entered a house that was a clone of her own, except for the decorating. There was little decorating here except that left behind by his parents.

  She started to reach for the door to close it against the growing chill, but the dog beat her to it, nosing it shut until she heard the latch click.

  “What a beautiful dog,” she said after clearing her throat.

  “Nell. My service dog.”

  “Then I guess I shouldn’t pet her.”

  “Only with my permission.” Then he pivoted his chair with amazing ease and led the way to the kitchen. “No coffee,” he said over his shoulder. “I didn’t make any.”

  She hesitated. “I didn’t come to stay. I just wanted to give you this pie. You don’t have to entertain me.”

  “Good.”

  Well, that was blunt, she thought as her initial irritation began to give way to an unexpected, inexplicable amusement. So he was a hard case. Well, if that’s how he wanted it, fine.

  “I’m Ashley Granger, by the way,” she said as they entered the kitchen. “You probably don’t remember me.”

  “No.”

  Ah, monosyllables. When he waved at the kitchen table and its ancient Formica, she placed the pie on it. There was only one chair, and she wondered if she should even sit. But then he pointed to it, so she pulled it out and sat.

  He wheeled himself closer to the table and picked up the beer that was sitting there. Then, as if suddenly remembering himself, he asked, “Want one?”

  “No, thank you. Anyway, I live next door and Carol mentioned that you were arriving tonight, so I made a pie. No big deal. And I promised I wasn’t here to visit. You must be tired after your trip.”

  She felt a poke on her denim-clad thigh and looked down. Nell was looking up at her with great interest. “Um...”

  “Does she frighte
n you?”

  “No,” Ashley said. “But I’m not allowed to pet her, and I think that’s what she wants.”

  “Sit, Nell,” he said. “It’s okay.” Then those dark, strangely unrevealing eyes settled on Ashley again. “Go ahead and pet her, but just briefly. She’s not supposed to get spoiled.”

  So Ashley forked her fingers into amazingly silky fur, and she could have sworn the dog grinned at her. All too soon Zane called her to heel and she went to lie beside his chair.

  “So Carol mentioned me,” he said after taking a sip from his longneck. “How much has she said?”

  “Has she been gossiping, you mean? She’s no gossip. She said she’d taken a job as your housekeeper. The only other thing she said was that you were arriving tonight. Otherwise, not a word.”

  He nodded slowly. “Thank you for the pie. But I may as well be honest. I came home because I need my space and my quiet.”

  “A hermitage.”

  “Pretty much.”

  She nodded but felt a twinge of disappointment. She’d like to get to know him, and she didn’t feel isolation was the best way to deal with his problems. Surely, he needed a community, people to spend time with, to give him a sense of belonging.

  But it was not her decision. Having lived her entire life here, except during college, she was used to being surrounded by good friends and people she knew. She couldn’t imagine wanting to be as alone as Zane wanted.

  She had promised she wasn’t here to visit, but it felt oddly wrong to just leave quickly. Maybe that was her own social upbringing, not the situation. Then he startled her, just as she was deciding to depart.

  “Maybe I do remember you,” he said quietly. “Your hair. It’s almost exactly the color of a new-minted penny. I don’t think I’ve seen that before.”

  “Strawberry blonde,” she said, with a little shrug of her shoulder.

  “No, it’s almost unique. That’s why I noticed it once. You were just a kid, but the hair was eye-catching.”