Protecting What's Mine(45)

Once again, Sunshine scooted up against her.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” That probably wasn’t dog language. “Do you need to urinate outside?”

Sunshine gazed at her adoringly.

“I can’t take you for a—hang on.” She scanned the note. Yep. Walk was another spelling-only word. “W-A-L-K. You may not have noticed, but I’ve got a broken ankle. It’s not conducive to walking—”

The dog gave a joyful bark and danced on her hind legs. Well, hell. She’d done it now. Gotten the fluffy, sweet dog excited.

Mack didn’t have the heart to disappoint her. Besides, she was already going stir-crazy.

“Okay, fine. But it’s going to be very short and very slow. Got it?” Sunshine was too busy pirouetting around the kitchen like the world’s clumsiest, most excited ballerina.

Her ankle throbbed in protest, but Mack managed to limp down the front steps to the walkway with Sunshine prancing happily on her hot pink leash. It was a beautiful day and that only added to her bad mood. She should have been up in the air today. She could have gone for a run. Could have been mowing the damn swatch of lawn that already needed it again. And there were weeds in the front flower bed that hadn’t been there on her last day off.

“How are you at landscaping?” she asked the dog. But Sunshine was too busy peeing on the tall grass.

They made it halfway around the block with Mack limping, Sunshine sashaying. A pleasantly soft, round woman in a pink and purple muumuu that somehow looked actually stylish called a greeting from her front porch.

“Yoo-hoo! Is that little Miss Sunshine?”

Sunshine shoved her face over the thigh-high fence and wriggled with excitement. Everything made this dog happy. Everything was an adventure.

“It is,” Mack called back.

The woman heaved herself out of her rocking chair and bustled down the front steps of her porch. “And you’re that doctor lady that got herself hurt by that dumbass last night. I heard it was bath salts and booze. He always was a no-good, no-account asshole. I hear his mama refused to post his bail, and he’s gonna be rotting away in jail for a long, long time.”

The woman was very well-informed.

She reached the fence and pulled out a treat from a hidden muumuu pocket. “Now, who’s the best girl in the whole world?” she asked.

Sunshine’s butt hit the sidewalk, and the rest of her quivered in delight.

Mack wondered when the last time was that she’d been that happy. Quite possibly never.

“Here you go, sweet girl.” The nice lady handed over the treat, and Sunshine took it with a surprising daintiness. “I’m Mrs. Valerie Washington. And you’re Dr. Mack.” She dressed and spoke like she was in her late seventies, but there wasn’t a line that Mack could pick out on the woman’s beaming mahogany face.

“I am,” she said. “I’m dog-sitting for Chief Reed today.”

“That’s a smart move on his part,” Mrs. Washington decided. “If he can’t get you to go out with him based on his charm alone, you’ll fall for Sunshine here. I’m gonna pop over this afternoon and bring you some cookies fresh baked and all the fixings for a good Tom Collins because, honey, if anyone deserves a drink, it’s you. I gotta get to my weightlifting class. But I’ll see you later.”

“Bye? Thanks?” Mack raised a hand in a wave as Mrs. Washington be-bopped back into her house.

“Does everyone just give you what you want?” Mack asked the dog. Sunshine shot her a smug look.

They made the arduous return to Mack’s house. Her ankle, foot, and calf were now screaming obscenities at her. Her hips, back, and shoulders were also reminding her that she’d taken a header down an embankment.

She was so distracted she almost tripped over Captain Brody Lighthorse, who was kneeling in the flower bed that paralleled her walkway.

“What the—”

Sunshine exploded into delirium.

“There’s my Sunny girl!” Brody shucked off his gloves and gave the dog a full-body scruff.

There were firefighters all over her lawn. One, a young woman, presumably the rookie, was energetically push-mowing the grass. Another, an older, rounder man, was on a stepladder cleaning the first-floor windows.

Two more were weeding the front flower beds, and yet another was greasing the hinges on the storm door that squealed like a banshee every time it opened.

Someone had brought a wireless speaker that was blaring eighties pop. They all bopped to the beat in varying degrees of dancing prowess.

“What’s all this?” she asked.

Brody rose. His shaved head gleamed in the mid-morning sunshine. He had tattoos, intricate tribal designs, down both forearms. His teeth were blindingly white against copper-toned skin. “The BFD—Benevolence Fire Department, also Big Fucking Deal—thought we’d lend a hand to a sister. Sorry you’re out of action for a while. That sucks.”

It did suck.

“Thanks. But you don’t have to.”

He shrugged and reached for the gloves again. “There’s nothing ‘have to’ about it. You put yourself between a dumb fuck and a patient. You’re good people. Plus, there’s no way in hell you’re going to be up for mowing the lawn anytime soon.”

He wasn’t wrong.