The shepherd bounded toward Ryder, enthusiastically licking his injured hand. “I think she likes you.” Kinley giggled.
“She better, for all that trouble.” He let the dog sniff his hand a few more seconds before he knelt and rubbed her neck. He heard the distinctive jingle of tags when she hopped over him. “Up to date on rabies. Says her name is . . . Rowdy.”
“Seems appropriate.”
“Rowdy, where’s your owner?” By now, someone should’ve been racing down the pier after their dog. Ryder leaned over the railing, scanning the nearly empty beach below. Not a single person seemed out walking, let alone searching.
“Shehasto belong to someone,” Kinley said. “Maybe they don’t know she’s missing yet. Why don’t we walk her up and down the beach?”
For the booming entrance Rowdy made, she was a pleasure to walk on the leash. Rarely pulling, she did get distracted by odd-shaped flowers and tree branches, forcing them to stop and linger often. One questionable-looking wildflower sent her shuffling backwards against Ryder’s legs. But she walked right by a gray cat hiding in the shade of a tree.Probably wouldn’t make the best police K9.
Two long passes resulted in more aches and pains, but no frantic dog owner.
Ryder led them to a bench and sat down in the middle. Kinley dropped down on one side. Rowdy hopped up on the other, as though she had as much right to sit there as they did. The shepherd stared straight ahead at the bay, watching a seagull fly overhead. When it flew off in the distance, Rowdy licked Ryder on the side of the face.
“She likes you,” Kinley said with an easy laugh that thawed his icy interior. “A lot.”
Ryder used the side of his hand to wipe away the slobbery affection. “Yeah, I get that.”
“What are you going to do with her tonight?”
It didn’t feel right to drop the dog off at the local shelter that was already overcrowded. Though the owner never refused an animal who needed a place to stay, Ryder wasn’t comfortable asking the favor. Though this probably wasn’t what Mom meant when she told him to get a dog, he said, “I guess I’m taking Rowdy home with me.”
Chapter Seven
Kinley
“Fiona, I thought you were supposed to work today,” Kinley said, finding her aunt in the middle of assembling a pie one-handed. A flour smudge painted Fiona’s cheek, and a trail of white paw prints on the laminate floor led away from the kitchen sink. Kinley checked her watch, certain they were supposed to leave at eight-thirty—three minutes from now.
“No, not today. Had my schedule mixed up.”
Sensing that something was off, Kinley leaned her hip into the counter, purposely getting in her aunt’s way. But Fiona refused to look at Kinley, even when she had to reach past her for the cinnamon. Fiona’s hand trembled a little as she flicked open the tin, only to drop it in the flour. Concern clenched Kinley’s heart. Her aunt was holding something back from her.Is Fiona sick?
“Need a ride anywhere else?” Kinley helped herself to a glass of iced tea, swallowing her panic and replacing it with a nonchalant smile. If something were wrong with any of the James women, they weren’t likely to come right out and say it. It was best eased out with gentle prodding and a front of indifference.
“You can have the car. Bev’s getting me soon for coffee.”
Kinley leaned backwards against the counter, ignoring the growing mess Fiona made. She’d only allow herself to worry if her tidy aunt left behind the clutter of dirty dishes scattered along the counter. She sipped on her tea to hide her frown. “Need me to do the dishes or bake the pie while you’re out?”
“Oh, no. Pie’s going in the fridge for now.” With her left hand, Fiona spooned blueberry filling from a jar she’d canned, dropping a splotch on the counter when it missed the pie pan. Kinley didn’t dare offer to clean it up. “You’re free to do as you please today. Don’t worry about a thing here.”
“Does your arm bother you at work?” Kinley asked carefully.
“Not any more than it bothers me anywhere else.” Fiona rinsed the empty jar in the sink and set it in the dishrack, finally looking over at Kinley when she finished. Her slightly quirky smile caused one corner of her mouth to lift a smidge higher than the other. “Something on your mind?”
Pickles darted through the kitchen, leaving behind a couple of fresh paw prints on his way to the living room window for his morning bird watching. Kinley rinsed off a dishrag and wiped up the flour trail. “I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by the library since I’ve been back. I’ve been meaning to come in.”
“You don’t want to be there,” Fiona said matter-of-factly as she worked a crust over the top of the pie. Her precision with one hand impressed Kinley, but Fiona’s tone unsettled her. “You don’t have to pretend otherwise.”
“Maybe I’ll pick up lunch for Ava.” Kinley rinsed out the dishrag and carried it into the laundry nook off the kitchen.Maybe I should go see the mayor about the sign.“Willamina’s still good as it was ten years ago?”
“Better. Mind covering this pie and sticking it in the fridge for me?”
“Of course.” Kinley approached with caution, accepting the box of clingwrap Fiona handed to her. Fiona hadn’t asked for much more than a ride since Kinley came back. All the help she’d given had been offered, or in some cases, forced. Fiona was stubborn when it came to admitting she couldn’t do everything on her own, more so now that she was down one arm.
Fiona plugged one sink, turned on the water, and squeezed in a line of soap. “You never told me when you head off to flight school.”
Kinley could skate the question, tell Fiona she didn’t have a date just yet. Instead, she let out a sigh and tried the truth. “I haven’t submitted my application.”
