Up in the gazebo, the conversation continued in a low murmur. Gabe and JJ were discussing where the PZs might have holed up and what the town might need to worry about.

Leaning her head on Bull’s arm, Frankie watched Aric. The little boy was sound asleep in Hawk’s lap. His little face still had the shadow of a bruise on one side, but the strain was gone from his expression. He felt safe.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Bull brushed her hair from her face. His hand was so big, so powerful. So gentle. “Was it bad news?”

“No, not really. My mother wants me back in New York.”

“There’s no surprise. Do you want to go back?”

“No. No, I don’t.”

After a pause, Bull said very quietly, “Stay. Be with me.”

Happiness rose inside.

He took her hand. “I realize your modeling agency job is more exciting and fulfilling—”

Her snort cut him off. “It’s not that. I like working with people, but not in the fashion or advertising industries. It’s so sexist. If men’s clothing changed like women’s, your dress pants would be above your knees some years.”

Bull’s laugh rang out, and Frankie grinned reluctantly. “The whole industry is designed to manipulate women into spending more money—by making them think they’re not attractive enough as they are. I guess I have an ethical problem with pushing that agenda.”

“Then why haven’t you changed jobs?” Bull asked.

“My family needs me.” She shrugged. “I’m good at what I do. Things run better when I’m there.”

Bull studied her. “You’ve been in Rescue quite a while. Has your family been calling and putting the pressure on?”

“Oh, have they. I just told Mama I wanted to stay here. She and the rest, they won’t understand not returning to them and my job… They’ll see it as a betrayal.” Her voice cracked with the last word. “I don’t want to lose them. I don’t want to lose you.”

His arm tightened around her.

“Bull, I don’t know what to do.”

No, that was a lie, wasn’t it? She knew what she wanted to do. With a sigh, she leaned her head against his wide chest. In the lake shallows, a mother duck was teaching her fuzzy babies to swim.

My mother was never that attentive.

Yet… they were her family. What would they do if she left? Would she get cut away completely?

Chapter Twenty-Five

Diplomacy - the art of saying “nice doggie” till you can find a stick. ~ Wynn Catlin

A few days later, Bull dropped onto the couch. What a fucked-up world, dammit.

“Dios, ’mano.” Caz strode in, followed by…Jesus, everybody except Hawk who’d taken Aric to the hospital to see his mama. “We saw you put your fist through the railing.”