The Passing Storm(24)

Rae took a gander at the fenced-in backyard. It was depressingly empty. No shrubs, no trees. There wasn’t a doghouse for shelter. A water bowl hugged the fence, a glazing of ice on top.

Her temper flared. “Saddle up, cowpokes. We’re doing this.”

Quinn looked up. “What are we doing?”

Ignoring the query, she released Kameko’s hand. Stepping back, she studied the fence. Five feet tall or thereabouts. I’ve got this.

“I’m going over,” she informed him. “Let’s call this a rescue operation.”

Rae carried more pounds than she liked, but she was strong. Luckily, she also preferred sensible flats. With ease she climbed over, dropping down on the other side. The obedient dog sat at attention, her tail thumping the ground.

Quinn palmed his forehead. “I’m not sure if you’re crazy, or you’ve just become my personal hero.”

“I vote for the latter.” She reached out to him. “Let’s wrap this up. Give me the bag.”

Alarm streaked his features as he handed over the remainder of the kibble. Rae dumped it on the snow. Even during a rescue operation, there was time to feed a starving dog.

Shelby made quick work of the meal.

“Good girl.” Rae smoothed her hand down the dog’s back. The shivering beast smelled oily and damp. Shelby was good-natured, and Rae encouraged her closer; the dog dipped her snout and snuffled in search of more food. Rae hoisted her into her arms.

At the ready, Quinn hung over the fence. After they transferred the dog, she climbed back over. They put Shelby and the joyous Kameko in the back seat, then got in.

“Auntie Rae, are we stealing her?” Kameko ruffled the dog’s ears. “Can I keep her?”

“Yes. No,” Rae said, wading into a moral dilemma. She flipped the car’s heat to high.

The glee faded from Quinn’s eyes. “We are stealing her. There’ll be repercussions.”

“Don’t be a pessimist.” She preferred to believe they’d hightail it out of Dodge without problems.

“Rae, get real. What are we supposed to do if Mr. Cox sees us somewhere with his dog? It’s not like Chardon’s a big town. And two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“Good point.” Another decision confronted her, this one thornier. She got back out. “Stay here.”

Ascending the front steps, she donned her game face. Ringing the doorbell was the sensible choice. Her temper, however, was past simmer.

She pounded instead.

Mr. Cox flung open the door. “What are you, a lunatic?” He wore a ratty bathrobe and a dour expression. “Why are you pounding on my door?”

A bottle of beer dangled from his fingers. In the background, a sports channel blared. The despicable Mr. Cox was a barrel-chested man. The calves peeking out from beneath his robe were hairier than his neglected mutt.

On the positive side, he was a good head shorter than Rae. An advantage if reasoning failed.

She said, “I’m taking the dog.”

“What dog? My dog?” He took a swig of his beer. “Get off my steps, lady.”

“Fine. I’m leaving—with Shelby.”

Ire flashed across his face. His attention swung to the curb and Rae’s car. In the back seat, Kameko—hugging the dog—was chortling.

Cox pushed open the door.

Rae shoved him back. “I’ll pay. Is fifty enough? It’ll keep you in brewskis for a month.” When he stared at her, dumbfounded, she added, “You’re not coming outside and scaring the kids. Try it, and I’m taking you down. And I don’t mean ‘taking you down to the police station for animal endangerment.’ I’m taking you down personally. I hope you’re ready to face-plant, because I’m an ace at self-defense. And seeing how you’ve treated the dog, I’m clean out of patience.”

“Cool down, lady. Who said anything about scaring the kids?”

“Do we have a deal?”

Greed lit his eyes. “Do you have seventy-five? Cash, no checks.”

“Done.”

She dashed to the car for her purse.



When they got to the house, Rae left a disgruntled Kameko in her father’s care. The five-year-old seemed aware that there was more high drama afoot and was visibly upset she’d miss out on the fun. After Connor steered her toward the living room, Rae fetched the watering can from beneath the kitchen sink. Then she ushered Quinn and the dog into the guest bathroom.

“What are we doing now?” Quinn asked her.

Rae waved her hand before her nose. “This really can’t wait. I’ve smelled garbage cans with a nicer stink than this dog.”

“We’re giving Shelby a bath?”

“Assuming she’ll let us.” Rae turned on the faucet.

While she fetched shampoo from the cupboard, Quinn tugged off his boots. He rolled his jeans up on his shins. With devoted eyes Shelby watched, her tail nervously thumping the floor. The soft, cooing sound he made was sweet and unexpected. The dog quieted. Gently he picked her up and placed her in the water.

Rae eyed his malnourished companion. “Don’t let her jump out, okay?” A slippery, skittish dog could harm herself.

Perched on the edge of the bathtub, he gave a hasty thumbs-up. There was no telling how the muddy dog would react to an impromptu bath and grooming.