Chapter One
Cullen
“Only five days until Christmas!” My landlady winks at me. “Have you done all your Christmas shopping?”
I tighten the last screw holding up the shelf that had been sagging, then stand back to admire my handiwork. “Nope.”
“What a shock.” She’s teasing me. “I’ve yet to meet a guy who buys any of his presents before Christmas Eve. Now, have you decided whether you’d like to spend Christmas Day with us?”
Elaine and her husband have told me I’m welcome to spend Christmas with them and their family. It’s a generous offer, but they’re nice people, and the last thing I want to do is curse them with my melancholy presence on the big day.
I slot the screwdriver into my back pocket. “Thanks for the offer, but I still plan on leaving before then. I’ll probably stay in the camper van somewhere on the coast.”
“Cullen,” she scolds. “You can’t spend Christmas Day on your own.”
“I won’t be on my own. A bottle of Glenlivet will be coming with me.”
She lifts a brow. “And what about Christmas dinner?”
I just look at her. It’s likely to consist of a microwaved tin of beans on toast, but I’m afraid if I tell her that she might cry.
“Well, it’s up to you,” she says. I expect her expression to be heavy with disapproval, but her smile is gentle as she comes to stand beside me and studies the shelf. “You’ve done a great job there.”
“Anything else I can do for you?”
“No, thank you. You want a cup of coffee?”
“No, ma’am, I’d better get going, but I appreciate the offer.”
“Ma’am,” she teases. “You’ve been here for six months now. When are you going to start calling me Elaine?”
“Soon, ma’am, I promise.”
She smiles. “Once a police officer, always a police officer?”
“Something like that.” I click my fingers at the German Shepherd who’s currently lying under the dining table. “Come on, Ghost.” Obediently, he rises and trots over to me.
Elaine bends to stroke him. He doesn’t move away from her hand, which is an improvement on when he first came here, but he still looks wary. She straightens and sighs. “Hopefully he’ll give me at least one kiss before you go.”
I soften the dog’s rejection with a smile. “If he ever lets anyone else near him, it’ll be you, I’m sure.”
“That’s sweet. He’s a good boy. Have a great day, Cullen.”
“You too.” I pick up my keys and wallet, go out the front door, and close it behind me.
I pause on the doorstep, fumble in my pocket for my sunglasses, and slide them on. It’s Saturday the twentieth of December, and a dazzling early summer morning in Sunrise Bay, New Zealand. The small village and the bay it was named after are part of the Bay of Islands enclave that encompasses 144 islands and several larger towns. I’ve heard many people refer to it as Paradise, and it’s hard to disagree with that on mornings like this.
After crossing the road, I take the path to the right that follows the beach, Ghost padding at my side on the grassy verge. The Pacific Ocean gleams a rich blue on my left, a shade darker than the cloudless sky. The crescent of golden sand is currently empty of holidaymakers. Later, a few families might find their way here, drawn by the shop that’s famous in the Northland for its magnificent ice cream, but there are more popular beaches nearby, and it’s unusual to find it packed.
I’ve been here six months? I’d lost track. I hadn’t planned on staying so long. I shove my hands in the pockets of my shorts, looking down at Ghost, who’s trotting quietly at my side. He’s come on a long way since we first arrived here, but he still doesn’t trust people. I’d hoped that spending some time at Noah’s Ark animal sanctuary up the road might help him, but his trauma obviously goes so deep that it’s possible he might never recover.
What is it they say about dogs being like their owners?
We come to the end of the beach and begin the walk up to the animal sanctuary. I could go by car, but the twenty-minute walk is good exercise for us both, especially while the weather is good.
Ghost stops to do his business on the grass, and I produce a bag from my pocket and lean on the nearby fence while I wait for him to finish. In front of me, a large farmhouse sits surrounded by an acre of land. The For Sale sign outside has been there since I arrived. Elaine told me the previous owner was an old guy who’d let the place go over the five years before he died, and sure enough the farmhouse and its accompanying buildings look run down, in good need of a paint and some repair. The paddocks are overgrown. The whole place is in need of a little TLC and some serious money. But it’s a good size, in a great location within walking distance of both the village and the Ark, and with gorgeous views.
I clean up after Ghost, then continue with him up the hill toward the sanctuary.
