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“Now, unless my hearing aids are on the fritz again, I could swear I heard you say you had a million things to do. We don’t have anything going on tonight and we would be more than happy to help you. Isn’t that right, Wesley?”
Wes grimaced. What was he supposed to say to that? That he was the last person in town she wanted to help her? “Um, sure. What do you need help with? Besides finding room for a lifetime supply of peanut butter?”
She shook her head. “I was exaggerating. Really. I don’t have a million things to do.”
“Only half a million?” Wes asked dryly.
“Something like that.”
Stanley gave her arm a pat. “Thanksgiving is a time to be grateful and I always say one of the things I’m most grateful for is that I am still capable of lending someone else a helping hand. Are you going to take that joy away from an old geezer like me who doesn’t have that many Thanksgivings left?”
“You’re not any such thing,” she protested.
“Exactly! I might be old enough to remember when dinosaurs walked the Earth but I can still outwork people half my age. Now, what can we do?”
She explained to Stanley that she would be hosting a couple of children to help out a friend. As Wes might have expected, his grandfather had nothing but praise for the idea.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Stanley said. “Wes, you should learn a thing or two from Hannah here about helping out your neighbors.”
Wes raised an eyebrow, deciding not to remind his grandfather that he was a decorated police officer who spent every working moment helping other people in his community.
“Now, surely there’s something we can help you with tonight. You would make an old man very happy if you let us.”
The expression on Hannah’s face reminded Wes of his second week on the job as a rookie when he had been asked to track down whoever had been stealing items from a neighborhood grocery store for weeks. He had thought it was kids and had staked out the store, only to find the dangerous criminal was actually a raccoon that had been systematically sneaking in, stealing mostly packaged bakery items, then rushing out again. He had managed to corner the raccoon behind the store holding an entire loaf of bread. Hannah had the same trapped, wary expression, as if any sudden move might end with her bolting for the nearest exit.
She finally cleared her throat. “I guess I could use a hand. How good are you both at putting together furniture?”
“We’re great at it,” Stanley boasted. “Wesley here is singlehandedly redoing the trim at my house. What kind of furniture do you need put together?”
Hannah gave a resigned sigh, as helpless as everyone else was against Stanley when he set his mind to something. “I already have one guest room where my niece stays when she visits but I need to set up a second room for Carter. That’s the six-year-old. I need to put together a bed frame. But don’t worry about it. I can have one of my brothers come out and help me tomorrow after dinner or maybe Friday or Saturday.”
“That’s just silly. We would love to help you,” Stanley said.
Wes wouldn’t go that far. At all.
Still, Hannah was doing a good thing, helping out a friend. And after the way he had treated her, he owed Hannah far more than the small gesture of putting together some furniture.
If Stanley wanted to help her, how could he deny his grandfather the chance to do his own good deed? How long would it take, anyway? Ten minutes? He had spent more than a decade apprehending hardened criminals. He could surely handle being around Hannah Goodwin for ten minutes.
“Sure. We can take the groceries home and head over. Would an hour from now work?”
She seemed to accept her fate. “Yes. That should be fine. I really would like to set the room up today if I can. That way Riley and Carter can bring some of their own things over from home before their mother leaves to make it feel more like theirs when they arrive to stay.”
“Okay. We’ll see you in an hour.” He paused. “Do you mind if we bring Kodi? I don’t like to leave him alone too long.”
“How does he do with cats? I have two.”
“Unfortunately, he is a complete sucker for them. It’s kind of pathetic the way he follows them around, wanting to be loved. Guy has no self-respect.”
“Or maybe he’s just a gentle soul.”
He almost laughed at that. Before two weeks ago, Kodiak had been the best K9 partner Wes had ever worked with. The Malinois was a true badass who obeyed every single command without question, could track, chase down and contain even the fastest suspect, and could scale an eight-foot fence like he was doing freaking parkour.
Wes fought down sadness, wondering what Kodi’s future was if the dog’s leg didn’t begin to heal soon.
“A gentle soul. Right. Something like that. We’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“No rush. It’s going to take me much longer to check out than it is you,” she said with a rueful look at her cart.
