Angel's Rest(12)

Gabe turned to reenter the house. This time the boxer was ready. A brindle blur all but knocked Gabe down as he dashed inside, through the kitchen, and into the hallway, headed for the great room. Gabe muttered a curse and took a quick mental inventory to determine what might be at risk of destruction as he trailed after the dog, wincing at the thought of the crystal collection on the coffee table—exactly at crooked-tail height.

“Hey!” he called as he hurried after the dog. “Stop. Stay. Sit.”

He might as well have said “Sing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ ” for all the good that did. Luckily, the dog made it across the room without destroying anything, and after a quick sniff he curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace.

“Well, make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Gabe muttered as he crossed to the front door. He stared out at the circular drive where he expected to see a car—but didn’t. There wasn’t a car or truck or any vehicle of any type in sight.

Gabe’s frown deepened as he stepped out onto the front porch. No car by the garage, either. “Hello?” he called. “Dr. Sullivan?”

Nothing. Nada. No one.

Reentering the house, he braced his hands on his hips and stared at the boxer. “You did not come all the way up here by yourself.”

The dog exhaled a loud, snorty sigh. His tail thumped twice against the rug, and a stray thought sneaked past Gabe’s barriers. Matty would have loved him.

Daddy, can I have a dog? Please? Pretty please?

Gabe gave himself a shake, then grimly said, “Well, it doesn’t matter how you got up here. You are not staying here.”

The tail thumped three times. Otherwise the dog didn’t move so much as a whisker. In fact, he looked as if he’d be content to lie by the fire all winter. “Not hardly,” Gabe muttered.

Well, he was headed to town anyway. A quick stop by the vet’s to dump the dog wouldn’t be a big deal.

Gabe grabbed his car keys from a nearby table and jangled them. “You want to go for a ride?”

One floppy brown ear perked up inside the silly white cone.

Gabe jangled the keys again. Both ears perked. Gabe tried to recall if he’d seen a dog leash anywhere in Eagle’s Way. Maybe in the mud room?

When he returned to the great room with a leash in hand, the boxer leapt to his feet. After fastening the leash to the leather collar and adjusting the white plastic cone, Gabe led him to the garage and helped him climb up into the Jeep. He and the boxer headed into town.

Again.





THREE





Nic gave her reflection in the bathroom mirror one last look and wished she’d splurged on a new shade of lipstick for her date tonight. She’d worn a bronze shade for years. This was a new life. A new man. She should have a new lipstick.

“Too late now,” she told her reflection. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

As Nic made her way downstairs, she admitted that referring to Bob Gerard as a “new man” was a stretch, since this was to be their first date and she’d only met Bob four days ago. He was part of the mayor’s plan D, a business consultant from Colorado Springs whom Hank Townsend had brought to town to identify any options for saving Eternity Springs they might have overlooked.

Bob had flirted with Nic from the moment they met during a “business leader” luncheon at the Bristlecone. When he called that night to chat, her first instinct had been to brush him off the same way she had every other man since Greg Sullivan broke her heart. Then she’d recalled Celeste’s speech at the high school about prisons of the past and she’d taken the leap, dusting off her own rusty flirting skills. Bob didn’t seem to mind her awkwardness. When a conversation about hunting led to his admission that he’d never tried game meats, she’d screwed up her courage and invited him to dinner for the specialty of her house—roast venison.

For this casual evening at home, she’d chosen to wear black slacks and an aquamarine V-neck cashmere sweater that Lori and Sarah claimed did wonders for her eyes. Nic just hoped she could get through dinner without spilling anything on it. She’d about ruined the oxford shirt she’d worn while preparing the meal—despite wearing an apron at the time. “I’m not nervous,” she said aloud. “I’m not.”

When the doorbell rang, she startled. No, not nervous at all.

She put a smile on her face and opened the door, saying, “You’re right on time … oh. Mr. Callahan.”