Chapter 8
A.J. shoved a pile of contracts into his top drawer and dusted crumbs from his desktop.
Maria, a former marine and one of TSI’s top operatives, had brought in enough homemade empanadas to feed an entire squadron, so A.J.
had felt free to devour at least five. They were that good.
Messy though, and Josie Callahan was due in his office in a few minutes.
A.J.’s meticulous attention to detail and military-ingrained tidiness had softened over time.
He tried to keep his home in order, especially as a single dad, and he didn’t allow his office to get too messy, but he’d learned to let a lot of things go.
Most of it just wasn’t that important. Still, he didn’t want to give Josie the wrong impression about their temporary, soon-to-be shared workspace.
Through his open door, he heard security buzz in someone, and then the sound of a soft, feminine voice in the lobby.
Josie’s voice. It was low and soothing. He remembered that about her.
Now that she was going to be working with him closely for a few weeks, he remembered a lot of things about her—her tall, willowy frame, her large, expressive brown eyes, and her thick, glossy hair, so dark it was almost black.
Josie was a delicate beauty who appeared fragile, but had a core of steel. She had to, with what she’d survived. A.J. only knew bits and pieces of her history, from what he’d overheard her tell Jake years ago and from what little Charlie had shared when they’d served together.
He’d seen Charlie’s little sister at family functions, but he’d only really spoken to her when they’d flown down to Bethesda together.
He remembered her as careful, well-spoken, kind, and a little bit awkward.
Something about her had charmed him and tripped his protective instincts at the same time.
He’d treated her much like he would his own little sister, but now, as her soft footsteps approached and she greeted him with a shy smile, something warmed in his chest, something that didn’t feel brotherly at all.
His pulse raced and his mouth went dry. The unexpected reaction caught him totally off guard.
He wasn’t blind. He’d found women other than his late wife attractive, but for years, all his energy, all his focus, had been on Allie.
He blinked at the woman standing in his office doorway, and then stood so abruptly his chair nearly tipped over backward.
Josie’s eyes widened and she tensed, her smile faltering. A.J. shook his head, steadied his chair, and cleared his throat.
“Chair slipped. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, wincing inwardly.
Her smile reappeared and she took a tentative step into the office. “Hi, Adam. It’s good to see you again.”
That’s right. She’d called him Adam back then, and he’d never corrected her. It was his given name after all.
“It’s good to see you too, Josie,” he said, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his dress pants.
She glanced at the shelf behind his desk and examined the collection of photos. “How are little Adam and Ellie? They’re getting so big.”
Talking about his kids always brought a smile to his face. “They’re good. Adam’s in second grade and Ellie’s in kindergarten. And that is Fluffernutter,” he said, pointing at a picture of the kids tumbling on the ground with a big golden retriever.
Josie’s face lit up with a delighted smile. “Fluffernutter. What a great name. There’s nothing like the unconditional love of a dog,” she said wistfully.
“He’s helped them heal a lot this year,” he said.
Josie’s expression softened to sympathy, and she nodded. “Animals are very good for that.”
Then, she turned her full attention to him. “How are you doing, Adam?”
“I’m okay,” he said, and he wanted to say much more.
The empathy in Josie’s voice, the feeling that he had her full attention, and the patient way she waited for his answer must have made her a damn good therapist. But she wasn’t his therapist. In fact, she was about to become a colleague, so he motioned to the polished mahogany conference table in the corner, where he’d placed two comfortable chairs, and invited her to sit.
In a preliminary call with Jake and Fiona, they’d all decided Josie would temporarily share A.J.’s office, once or twice per week, and work from home the rest of the time, until phase one of the center was built.
A.J. was TSI’s liaison for the project ever since the company had partnered with Jake and Fiona’s foundation.
After Allie’s death, A.J. had eased back into his role at TSI, but working with the foundation actually had him looking forward to his workdays again.
Currently, the most pressing item on his agenda was finding land on which to build the center, and coincidentally, he’d heard that a large parcel, adjacent to his property, might be coming on the market.
He wanted Josie with him when he met with the owner.
Josie set her laptop bag on the table, shrugged out of her lightweight jacket, and pulled out the chair.
“Then let’s get to work,” she said.
By lunchtime, Josie had created a spreadsheet with a flexible timeline for opening the main building and outpatient therapies based on how quickly they could acquire land, a list of needed new hires, including a grant writer and volunteer coordinator, and the professional staff she wanted in place for phase one.
A.J. listened, impressed by her energy and obvious intelligence.
“Let’s take a break and refuel before we meet with my neighbor about the property,” he suggested.
They stopped at a sandwich shop for a quick bite before heading out of the city and into the suburbs where A.J.
lived. The quaint town had an old New England charm, large tracts of farmland, and was a less than thirty-minute commute into downtown, without traffic, of course.
He and Allie had been over-the-moon excited when they’d bought the property and started renovations on the farmhouse that would become their family home.
“It’s so pretty here,” Josie said, peering out the passenger side window.
Dogwood trees lined the street, their pink and white blossoms on full display.
Family-owned businesses, like the hardware store and coffee shop, still peppered this stretch of Main Street, and a row of gas lamps added to the appeal.
During the holidays, the town square wore a necklace of white twinkle-lights, and during the Halloween season, the whole town turned out for the pumpkin festival and costume parade.
“Great place to raise a family,” he said.
Josie hummed her agreement.
“My neighbor passed away a few months ago, and her granddaughter can’t keep up with all the land. She’s thinking about selling some of it, but I don’t think it will be easy for her,” A.J. said.
“You’re hoping if we pitch her our concept, she might be more open to selling,” Josie said, turning her thoughtful gaze to A.J.
“Yes. If she feels she’s doing something good with the land, maybe it won’t be so difficult to let it go. Holly’s a single mom with a five-year-old. Her son, Gabe, is actually in Ellie’s class. Cute kid. Anyway, Holly moved in with her grandmother, my neighbor Rose, before Gabe was born.”
Josie made a small, interested sound in the back of her throat, a sound A.J. suspected she used with her patients to encourage them to keep talking. He kept talking.
“I don’t know Holly’s story, but she’s young and, well, you’ll see when you meet her.
” A.J. glanced at Josie. “I don’t want her to feel intimidated or manipulated, and we need to be gentle with her, but I also think this is a win-win for us all.
You’ll be the perfect person to talk with her and see if this is a good fit. ”
Josie glanced at him, curiosity creasing her brow. “You intimidate her?”
A.J. shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t mean to, but yeah, I think so.”
He supposed from a purely physical standpoint, he could be considered intimidating.
At just over six feet and weighing in at two hundred pounds, he definitely took up space in a room.
He’d been graced with thick, wavy reddish-brown hair that showed no sign of thinning anytime soon, and, when he’d let his beard grow long enough, it gave him something of a lumberjack look.
In the months after Allie passed, he’d let everything grow, mostly because he just couldn’t muster the energy to care about his appearance, but also because his daughter loved to pet his beard and pretend it was “doggy” fur.
Once they got an actual dog, and the worst of his kids’ grief seemed behind them, A.J.
got a haircut, trimmed his beard, started working out again, and went back to work.
The worst of his grief might not be completely behind him, but he adopted a fake it ’til you make it attitude and carried on. He really didn’t have a choice.
Holly had brought over casseroles and baked goods for weeks after Allie’s funeral and had definitely witnessed A.J.
at his messiest. She’d always smiled nervously, shoved the dishes at him, and hurried away.
Then Rose had died and the meal train ended.
He’d tried to be supportive of Holly, yet maintain his distance, sensing the girl’s discomfort, so he’d hired his housekeeper to clean her house once a week and made a large donation to the hospice clinic that had cared for Rose.
Holly’s simple, handwritten note of thanks, delivered to his porch with a plate of cookies, had been the last contact he’d had with his skittish neighbor until reaching out to set up this meeting.
He’d actually been surprised she’d agreed to it, and he stood by his decision to bring Josie along.
Holly definitely triggered A.J.’s protective instincts, but he knew he wasn’t the person to breach her shell.
“I’ll tread gently,” Josie said.
“You’ll put her at ease, Josie. It’s what you do,” he said.
When he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, he swore she blushed.