The Bad Boy Of Butterfly Harbor. Anna Stewart J.
how long he was under your house.” When she turned to the counter, the dog let out a pent-up sigh and lay down, as if he knew what was coming next. Sure enough, Luke winced at the sight of the thermometer in Selina’s hand.
“I know,” Luke said as he moved to the dog’s head and bent down, petting the pooch as the doctor did what was necessary. “It’s undignified, isn’t it?” He didn’t want to think of all the poking and prodding he’d undergone during his lengthy stay in the hospital and then the recovery time in the burn unit.
Undignified was an understatement.
“Is this your first dog?” Selina asked.
“He’s not mine.”
The dog’s eyes brightened and he lifted his chin, ears twitching.
Luke looked to Selina when she chuckled. “He can’t understand me, right?”
“Don’t be so surprised. His temp’s normal, by the way. I can run some blood work to be sure, if it’ll put your mind at ease. And I’ll have my assistant give him a bath, make sure there wasn’t any damage to his skin from the knots and vines. I don’t charge an arm and a leg, so if cost is a concern—”
“It’s not.” Even if it was, he wasn’t going to let this dog suffer any more than it already had, even if it cost him a significant amount of cash. “Have you seen any other animals come in who have been treated this way?”
“No.” Selina’s face slammed shut like a bear trap. “But I’ll be on the lookout for it. I’d like to say no one in this town would ever treat an animal so horribly, but these days—” she shrugged “—who’s to say what goes on behind closed doors?”
Who indeed. “I’d appreciate you letting me know if you see or hear anything.” If he ever did come across the person responsible, he’d be calling on all of his training not to beat the criminal to a bloody pulp.
BY LATE WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, Holly had gone “mom” deaf to Simon’s “pew-pew-pewing” of make-believe laser guns. Her son’s enthusiasm for 1970s space operas had almost driven her ’round the bend.
Thank goodness her father had stopped by to take Simon with him to his house, where slow-cooked pot roast awaited them all for dinner once she closed the diner.
Angry storm clouds rolled in, tumbling over each other as if in competition to deluge Butterfly Harbor in their rage. If only the forecast had been more adamant about their arrival, she might not have left the house without her rain gear.
Monarch Lane may as well have rolled up for the day, as there was barely a person on the street. Most of the cars were gone, while shop owners and managers closed well before stated times. She’d pushed it too far walking to work this morning in the hopes of burning off some of the worry and concern that refused to abandon her. The fact she’d been wondering about Luke and his new companion didn’t sit well, either. She had enough things on her plate between putting an ad in the paper for help at the diner, keeping the doors open and maintaining a watchful eye on Simon.
She turned off the lights and locked up, twisting her key in the front door. A glance up at the sky had her sucking in a cold breath between clenched teeth. Gray clouds had turned black and rumbled overhead. Fat raindrops plopped on her cheeks as she shivered under her thin sweater and cursed herself for not keeping a spare umbrella at the diner. If she hustled, she could make it to her father’s house—less than a mile away—before it got too bad.
If only the weather was the reason for the sad empty streets and vacant storefronts. Any tourist passing through town would think Butterfly Harbor had been abandoned. Much like the way Catalina Island shut down in midafternoon, the sidewalks were vacant and the stores were dark. As Holly passed, signs were turned to Closed with a slow-motion attitude that spoke of “why bother?” Things had to get better.
They would. Things just needed a little nudge in the right direction.
The wind picked up and whipped her ponytailed hair around her face. She braced herself for being soaked to the skin before she got anywhere near her father’s front yard.
She increased her pace, hoofing it down Monarch Lane all the way to the abandoned community center that hadn’t seen any activity in years. By the time she crossed the road and headed up the hill, the rain was coming down in plumes, preventing her from hearing anything but the cacophonous drops hitting the cement like tiny jackhammers. The lightning and thunder added their mocking two cents and pounded in her ears.
“Holly!”
Luke’s voice exploded beside her and she yelped. She jumped back and avoided toppling into Mrs. Clancy’s prized flower bed. “What?” She pressed a hand against her hammering heart. “Luke, what the—”
“Get in the truck!” Lightning split the air as the sky thundered.
“Woof!” The sparkling-clean retriever shoved his head between Luke’s arms on the steering wheel.
“I’m not going far.” She regained her footing and started up the hill again, but her father’s house felt miles away. “I’m fine.”
Rain pinged off the roof of his cab as he kept pace beside her. She gnashed her teeth. The last thing she needed was Luke Saxon coming to her rescue. What karmic wrong had she committed—
“You’re headed to your dad’s, right?” Luke called.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled. She sped up and crossed the street. How did he know where she was going?
“For the love of—” Luke slammed on the brakes, shoved open the creaky door and got out. A lightning bolt blasted down and struck the oak twenty feet in front of her. “Holly!” The crack and thud of the huge branch had her falling solidly into Luke. His hands gripped her arms, hauling her away from the crackle and pop of power lines as the branch thudded on to the road and settled against the wind. The smell of ozone singed her nose and she choked. “Now will you get in the—”
“Yeah.” She shuddered, her brain going fuzzy as electricity zinged around her. Another couple of seconds and she could have been under that branch. She shrugged off his hold despite the comfort his hands provided. “You win.”
She scrambled around him and pulled open the passenger door, flinging herself inside as a deluge struck and obscured the street from view. Luke’s dog chuffed and blinked at her. Holly’s mouth twisted. Obviously the dog was the smartest of them, never having ventured out of the safety of the vehicle.
Luke slid into the driver’s seat, sending her a look she might have withered under had she been a violet under the too-hot sun. “I see you haven’t lost your stubborn streak.”
She ignored the backhanded compliment. “He cleaned up nicely.” Holly shoved her sopping hair out of her eyes and leaned into the dog that had apparently undergone a self-confidence transplant. He nuzzled her shoulder. The hot, stifling air that circled the cab made it feel as if she’d stepped into a sauna. “I take it he’s yours now?”
“So it would seem. Buckle up.” He jerked his chin toward the seat belt as he put the car into Reverse before heading back toward Monarch Lane.
As if her town wasn’t bleak enough, the storm was going to give them a right walloping. The waves began crashing up against the town wall, sending mist and spray over the road ahead of them.
“What’s his name?” Holly hated the silence pulsing between them.
“He hasn’t told me yet,” Luke said with something akin to a smile on his tight lips. “Doc Collins asked the same thing for his new file, but...” He shrugged and clutched the steering wheel tighter as a gust of wind battered the truck. “Would have been nice to have some warning about this storm.”
Huh. Holly settled in her seat, trying to distract herself