Undercover Bodyguard. Shirlee McCoy
“Mazy. Maureen’s dog. She’s probably scared to death. Come here, Mazy. Here, girl,” she called, leaning over the side of the stretcher again.
“Cut it out before you kill yourself!” He grabbed her arm again. Hauled her up again.
“But—”
“I’ll go look for the dog. You stay put.” Disgusted, he tramped across the yard, following the sound of yapping dog until he found a little white puffball cowering in the bushes. It looked more like a piece of fluff than a dog, but he picked it up anyway, ignoring its rumbling growl.
“This her?” He held the puffball out for Shelby to see, and she teared up.
“Yes. Poor thing. She must be so scared and confused.”
“I’ll take her to the shelter. She’ll get good—”
“No! The other dogs will eat her alive.”
She had a point. To a bigger dog, Mazy would probably look like a tasty morsel. “I can leave her here. Maybe Maureen had family or friends who will come and get her.”
“You can’t leave her here. She’ll be—”
“Scared and confused?”
“Yes.” She offered a half smile. “Listen, I hate to ask, but could you bring her to the hospital? I’ll have someone meet us there and bring her to my place. That way, she won’t run off while she’s waiting for rescue.”
Bring the dog to the hospital?
He frowned at the little beast, and he was pretty sure it frowned back, but Shelby was waiting, her eyes big and dark with concern, and no refused to make its way past his lips.
“Okay, but if she chews the upholstery in my truck, she’s toast.”
“Mazy has good manners. She’ll behave.” Shelby smiled the same sweet smile she greeted him with every time he walked into her bakery, and his pulse jumped, his blood warming.
He’d dated plenty of beautiful women during his time in the navy. After his injury and recovery, he’d been more selective, dating just a few women before he’d found Danielle. Gorgeous, driven and strong in her faith, she’d been the kind of woman he’d thought he could make a good life with, but after two years of dating, the relationship had felt hollow, Danielle’s clawing, grasping need to get ahead putting a wedge between them.
He’d wanted a cozy home in the suburbs of New York City, a few kids, maybe a dog. She’d wanted a high-rise apartment in Manhattan, no kids, no pets. Nothing but work and money.
In the end, they hadn’t found a way to make their goals mesh.
When he’d broken up with her, he hadn’t bothered looking for another relationship. Ryder had had plenty of opportunity to find The One. But he hadn’t, and he figured she wasn’t out there.
But Shelby appealed to him, everything about her soft and warm and inviting. No matter how much he’d tried to ignore her, he couldn’t. Four months of visiting her bakery, and he was no closer to understanding why.
She was pretty, sure, but that wasn’t it.
When he looked into her eyes, it was like looking into her soul, and Ryder wanted to keep on looking.
He wasn’t sure what to think about that.
Wasn’t sure if he should think anything about it.
He’d come to Spokane to open another branch of his company, Personal Securities Incorporated. One year, that’s what he’d planned to devote to setting things up. In eight months, he’d be going home to New York City. He didn’t have time to get involved in a relationship, and he wasn’t sure he would have wanted to if he did have the time.
But he couldn’t seem to stay away from Shelby and her quaint bakery and easy smile.
He frowned, the dog whining and wiggling as the sirens blared and the ambulance sped away.
THREE
No way was Shelby ever going to let Dr. Jarrod Estes sew her up. She’d dated the man for about two minutes after she’d found Andrew and Stephanie kissing outside of Andrew’s apartment building. One date with the most sought-after bachelor at Grace Christian Church, because Shelby had wanted to feel as if she wasn’t the biggest loser on the planet. One date had been plenty. Jarrod had spent more time checking his text messages than talking to her, and Shelby had decided there and then that she was done with the dating scene.
Done.
Finished.
No more men.
Ever.
She’d made some lame excuse about leaving an oven on at the bakery and excused herself halfway through the entrée. Now the man she’d ditched on their first date was coming at her with a needle.
“Really, Jarrod, I don’t think stitches are necessary.” She eased off the exam table, her bare toes curling against cold tile, the acrid scent of smoke wafting from her hair.
Smoke from the explosions and fire that had killed Maureen.
Tears clogged her throat, but she’d already cried so much that her eyes were hot and dry.
“Shelby, I know you’ve had a tough morning, and I know you’re anxious to get out of here and take some time to grieve, but you do need stitches.” Jarrod dropped the needle back on the tray, glanced at his watch and sighed. “Tell you what, why don’t I call Dottie and have her come to hold your hand?”
“Do not call Dottie.” That was the last thing Shelby needed.
“How about one of your friends, then? Someone from church? Jasmine or Faith?” He leaned forward in his chair, a hint of impatience in his tone.
“I wouldn’t want them to drive all the way here. Besides, I’m opting out of the stitches. I’m sure my head will heal just fine.”
“It’s going to scar,” he warned.
“I can think of worse things.” She scooped up her clothes and the jacket Ryder had thrown over her shoulders. Since Jarrod didn’t seem keen on leaving the room, she’d find a restroom and change there. Sure, Ryder had said he’d bring Mazy to the hospital, but Shelby had seen the look in his eyes, and she figured he was about as likely to follow through as she was to let Jarrod stitch her up. She hadn’t even bothered calling someone to come get the dog.
The only good man is a dead husband with a good life-insurance policy.
Another one of Beulah’s truisms. One Shelby’s mother and sister wholeheartedly believed. Shelby had tried to believe something different. She’d opened herself up to love, tried to create what Beulah and her mother had insisted was impossible—forever with a man who loved her for who she was.
Tried twice times, actually.
Once in college.
Once with Andrew.
Both had been disastrous.
She didn’t plan to try again.
“Thanks for everything, Jarrod. See you at church Sunday.” She yanked the door open, colliding with a rock-hard chest.
“What’s the hurry, Shelby Ann?” Broad hands grabbed her waist as she caught her balance.
She knew the voice, the hands, the dark chocolate eyes that stared into hers.
Ryder.
Her heart jumped in acknowledgment, her body humming with an awareness she knew she shouldn’t be feeling. “You came.”
“I said I would,” he responded, frowning slightly. “Is your friend around here somewhere? That dog and I aren’t getting along, and I want