After a few beats, she lowered her raised eyebrow and relented. “I guess so. Haven’t been in years.”
“Well, if you want, you can come out with me sometime before you leave. Thought I might head out on the water tomorrow, actually. But I’m sure I’ll go again if that doesn’t fit into your busy schedule.”
They stepped to opposite sides as a jogger hurried between them on a mission to the end of the pier. A mother and two kids—twins, if he remembered right—huddled in the corner at the end. Otherwise, the pier was deserted. One couple strolled hand-in-hand along the water, too far away to depict who they were.
“You know how to turn that thing off?” Kinley stepped back to the middle after the same jogger passed them again.
“What thing?”
“That cop radar thing you do.”
He did manage a smirk then. “Old habits.”
“Fishing, huh? Are you asking me on a date, Ryder Grant?”
“What? No, um—”
“Relax!” Kinley gently shoved at his shoulder. He was keenly aware how long she pressed her palm against his shirt sleeve. “I’m kidding. C’mon, why would you askmeof all people out on a date? I’m not even staying.”
With effort, Ryder let down his defensive wall enough to join in her light laughter. “It was just a friendly offer,” he added about the fishing. The heat signature of her touch lingered. “Fewer people out on the water and all that. Figured it was kind of your thing.”
“I’ll have to see what Fiona needs first.”
“Of course.”
Kinley spun toward the railing and leaned over, pointed toward the sun that was still two hours from setting.
Ryder’d always had a good sense about people, even before he trained at the police academy. The sense that Kinley was holding back something big nagged at him. As much as he wanted to know, he refused to push her. But he did what he considered second best. “Fiona mentioned me fixing that ladder. When do you think I should come by?”
“I know she’s around Friday evening. I wouldn’t want to rob her of the joy of cooking you a meal. Anddessert.” Kinley was definitely flirting with him.
He resisted the urge to touch her elbow, unwilling to risk shattering this blissful moment. Worse, he wasn’t sure what physical reaction the contact would cause in himself. His bicep still tingled at the earlier graze of her fingers. “Now you’re just being cruel.”
“Apple or peach pie—”
Chaotic skittering against the wooden planks cut Kinley off, causing both of them to jerk their attention behind them. A black and brown dog—German shepherd from the looks of it—charged at them, yellow leash whipping behind. Ryder’s brain flashed numbers—the speed of the dog versus the slipperiness of the planks, and a rail board too high to keep him from sliding under.Crap. Not good.
The dog would end up in the water and, this far out, the current was extra active. Even an incredibly active dog might struggle to shore.
Ryder leapt into action, planting himself in the dog’s path, and using his body like a blockade. Squatting down like a football linebacker waiting for the signal, he braced for impact. “Hey, boy,” he said to the dog in a cheerful voice. “C’mere. Easy, bud.”
The dog’s tail wagged in double time, giving Ryder hope that he’d successfully distracted him from whatever mission sent him hurtling down the pier.
“Ryder, be careful,” Kinley said.
“Slow down, boy. Slooow down.”
“Ryder, look out! He’s—”
The dog plowed harder into Ryder than he expected, knocking him backwards against the planks. Still chasing the wind that was knocked out of him, Ryder grabbed at the leash. It slid quickly through his hand, reminding him of the time he got rope burn as a kid while fishing with his dad.
Kinley leapt into action, hopping over him as the end of the leash slipped free from Ryder’s hand. “Got him!”
The dog let out a few boisterous barks.
“Excuse me. Gother.” Kinley encouraged the dog back Ryder’s way, but met no resistance. In fact, there was no tautness in the leash at all. “You okay?” She reached out a hand to help Ryder up. Pride tugged at him to ignore it, but he shook away his grumpiness and let Kinley help him.
Aching all over, palm stinging, Ryder stretched off the worst of it. His back would be stiff tomorrow, but he didn’t think anything was strained or pulled.Small victories.
