by Kate Kinsley
About Elle James
ELLE JAMES is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of books including cowboys, intrigues and paranormal adventures that keep her readers on the edges of their seats. When she’s not at her computer, she’s traveling, snow skiing or riding her ATV, dreaming up new stories. Learn more about Elle James at www.ellejames.com
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Dog Days
Never in a million dog days of summer would I have guessed my breaking Mudville’s pooper scooper law would lead me directly to the town bad boy. But that’s exactly what happened.
He was the guy who went directly from graduation to gunfire and didn’t look back . . . until now.
Twenty years later, he’s home. A little bit broken, but back for good. And with the help of man’s—or rather woman’s best friend, I intend to make him mine.
Can a former geek win the star of the football team? I’m betting on it.
Heck, it wouldn’t be the first crazy thing to happen in this town and I doubt it’ll be the last.
Chapter One
Here’s the thing about small towns. Everyone knows everyone else. And, what’s really annoying, is that everyone knows everyone else’s business.
So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise to find the deputy sheriff standing in front of me at the animal shelter, barely fifteen minutes after I started my shift.
Why the deputy was here was no mystery. It could only be about one thing. This morning’s incident.
In spite of my certainty, I chose to play dumb. “Good morning, Carson.”
“Stephanie.” He tipped his dark blonde head to me with as much authority as he could given the fact that, with my being seven years his senior, I’d been his babysitter once upon a time.
I folded my arms and waited, pretty confident he wasn’t here to arrest me. Although in this town, you never knew. Mayor Pickett and the town council could have passed any sort of ordinance at one of their many, many town meetings . . . I really needed to start attending those.
“So, the reason I’m here,” Carson begin. “Mr. Timmerman—”
He didn’t have to go any further. It was just as I’d suspected. And completely ridiculous.
I held up one hand to interrupt him. “Can I explain my side of the story, please?”
Carson’s brows rose. “All right.”
I couldn’t believe that freaking old man had really called the sheriff’s department on me. For one little pile of dog poop!
Okay, maybe not so little. Zeus, as a Belgian Sheppard, left pretty large piles, but I always picked each and every one up. Until today.
“I was walking Zeus. He, you know, did his business, and that’s when I discovered I was out of plastic bags. So I ran across the street to Red’s Resale shop and got one from her. Carson, seriously, I was literally gone for like two minutes. Maybe three, tops. But by the time I got back, the poop was gone. Tell me, what was I supposed to do?”
“Look, Steph, I believe you. But my hands are tied here. An official complaint was made.”
I sighed. “Fine. What do I need to do to make this right?”
Pay a fine? Spend a day on the rack in the town square?
The scary part was, here in Mudville, New York, a village with barely over a thousand residents—that last scenario wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.
No, we didn’t actually have a rack, but I was sure some of the crotchety old residents would swarm to the next meeting to vote to approve it if a proposal for one was on the agenda. I included Mr. Timmerman in that grouping.
Carson drew in a breath, his chest expanding beneath the short-sleeved khaki shirt of his deputy’s uniform. “Mr. Timmerman says he’ll let it drop if you apologize.”
“Apologize?” I repeated. Of all my guesses, that wasn’t one of them.
He nodded. “Yup.”
“Like a written apology?” I asked, hopeful I’d get away without having to see the man.
Carson shook his head. “He said, and I quote, if she gets her uh,” his gaze cut to mine and then away as he clearly edited what old man Timmerman had said, “self over here today and apologizes, I’ll let it go. And then he reminded me he eats promptly at five and that he doesn’t like to be disturbed during his dinner.”
I drew in a breath, trying not to be angry or annoyed by reminding myself that I was getting off easy with just an apology rather than a fine.
Make that another fine since I’d already had to pay fifty dollars for the sin of not getting a dog license for Zeus. Never mind that I was just fostering him at my house because he wasn’t doing well in the cage alone overnight at the shelter.
It didn’t seem to matter to the animal control officer that the dog was a veteran who’d served his country for years in the war zone, as well as only a temporary resident in my home.
“All right. I’ll apologize.” I glanced behind me. Terri was on today with me. “I’ll go over on my lunch hour.”
Wouldn’t want to risk disturbing Mr. Timmerman’s insanely early dinner by waiting until after work.
“That would be great. Thank you,” Carson said with sincerity.
I scoffed. “Why are you thanking me? You’re the law, remember? All I’m doing is complying with an official order.”
He treated me to a small, almost sad-looking smile. “Yes, but there are those in this town who wouldn’t have agreed to comply so easily. So thank you for making my life a little easier.”
Good chance Carson was referring to Red, who was as fiery as her hair color, and how she’d either saved—or stolen—a calf from the stock auction. The story changed depending on who you talked to, but I’d heard it was poor Carson who had responded to the auction owner’s complaint.
I smiled at Carson’s obvious exasperation with small town law enforcement. “Sure. Anytime.”
I’d comply. No problem. It didn’t hurt to have the gratitude of the local lawmen for the next time I did something horrible—at least, horrible by small town standards—like jaywalking or neglecting to bring in my garbage pail from the curb in a timely manner. Or, you know, something else equally nefarious.
When Carson had left, looking grateful to be done with me and the case of the unscooped poop, I asked Terri if she’d mind if I took an early lunch today.
I decided to get this slap on the wrist over with sooner rather than later. I also decided to bring Zeus with me. One, it was his poop that had started all this.
And two, horrible though it sounded, I wasn’t above rubbing Zeus’s veteran status in the old man’s face. Just to make him feel a little guilty for bitching about a mess that I had been going to clean up myself if he’d just given me the chance.
I was less grateful about my light sentence and was becoming good and annoyed again by the time I pulled my car in front of old man Timmerman’s house.
On the village’s Main Street, lined with large and stately Victorians, the single level ranch-style house sat firmly in their shadow, both literally and figuratively.
Squinting at the property through narrowed eyes, I took note of everything wrong with it. Things I’d overlooked before when I’d been just walking by.
The grass was long and needed cutting. Weeds grew tall beneath the overgrown bushes flanking the front door. The house’s paint job had seen better days—just like the old man himself, I supposed.
Humph. Maybe he should pay a little extra attention to things closer to home and worry less about one little—okay, not so little—pile of crap by the curb.
I drew in a bracing breath and got my thoughts together, rehearsing my apology before I went to the door.
There were plenty of things I wanted to say to this man,
but I curtailed my comments to the bare necessities—a short and sweet apology—actually, drop the sweet part and make that just a short apology.
Once I had my wording right, I glanced at Zeus, perfectly behaved as he rode shotgun in the passenger seat, as usual.
He was a very good passenger. I was told he even knew how to parachute out of planes from his military days so I guess riding in a car was no challenge for him.
“You ready, buddy boy?” I asked.
He wagged his tail.
Now that he wasn’t depressed from being stuck in a shelter cage all day and night, he was always excited for an adventure.
Depending how old man Timmerman reacted to my apology, this could turn into quite an explosive adventure. That was okay. Zeus was trained for explosions too.
After procrastinating as long as I could, I got out of the car, my feet dragging, along with the end of Zeus’s leash in my grasp.
I made my way up the short staircase to the small porch outside the front door with about as much dread as a person going in for a root canal.
Not a surprise. This might end up being that painful.
I pushed the doorbell, which looked to be from about the nineteen-fifties. I didn’t hear it ring inside. I pushed again, listening more closely this time.
Still nothing.
Crap.
That figured. The old man demanded an apology in person, but he didn’t have the decency to have a working doorbell.
Annoyed, I raised my fist and pounded on the door. I continued to pound, hard and loud, determined that I’d make him hear me even if I walked away with bruises on my fist.
“Hang on! Dammit.” The annoyed though muffled male voice halted my fist mid-pound and started me reconsidering the wisdom, or rather foolishness, of pissing off this man further.
Too late now.
I heard the clicking of the lock and then the door was yanked open. But it wasn’t old man Timmerman on the other side.
Oh, no. Far from it.
This man was one fine specimen of ripped muscles and shirtless wonder.
My gaze dropped all the way down to the happy trail that disappeared beneath the waist of his low-slung jeans, the button and belt of which was undone and hanging open.
He was barefoot as well, or at least his left foot was bare. His right foot was gone.
When I realized I was staring at the missing appendage, I yanked my gaze up.
The face was older, and a whole lot angrier, but I recognized him. Mudville High’s Class of 1998 football star and all-round bad boy Michael Timmerman.
I had been a freshman when he was a senior, but I still knew him. Everyone did.
Truth was, I more than knew him. I’d had an epic though unrequited crush on this guy for my entire freshman year, through the summer and halfway into my sophomore year, when I realized he’d left town and, when Christmas came and went without a visit, he likely wasn’t coming back.
He was the guy who graduated high school and then, a week later, disappeared, never to be seen again. During that week, he attended a few keg parties and made his mark by out-drinking everyone and sleeping with half the cheer squad, all in between kicking anyone’s ass who looked at him sideways.
I’d heard he joined the military. A shock in itself given his propensity for debauchery and breaking the rules.
If he visited his dad during the past twenty years, I hadn’t known about it. But now he was back. The reason why was obvious. My gaze dropped again to his missing foot before I yanked it back up.
He leaned heavily on the doorframe, balancing on his one leg, glaring at me with all the fire of hell flashing in his eyes.
“What?” he demanded.
Startled, I jumped at the question that had been blasted at me in a sharp, ominous tone. It was the kind of voice I imagined commanders used on recruits in boot camp. Not the kind of voice one used to answer the door in Mudville.
Zeus whined next to me, no doubt sensing my discomfort. “Um, hi. I’m Stephanie, from down the street. Is your father around?”
“No.” He leaned back, about to close the door on me.
“Wait. I’m sorry, but he told me to come by. Well, actually, Carson did.” I realized Carson was still a child when this guy had left and added, “He’s a deputy in town.”
Michael drew in a deep breath—and I did my best to ignore the rise and fall of his muscles.
“Why?” he asked.
Apparently, he was fond of one-word sentences. With the amount of vitriol with which the single word was delivered, his keeping it brief was fine with me.
My heart pounding, I had to think quick. I knew he had little patience with me, which meant I only had a short time to speak. “Zeus pooped on your lawn and I didn’t have a bag and your father saw me not pick it up and called the sheriff’s office and said I had to apologize today or I’d be in trouble.”
I delivered the one long sentence in a single breath, hoping to get it all in before he slammed the door in my face.
As it was, I wasn’t sure I’d get credit for my apology. I’d have to come back again later. That was the last thing I wanted to do, even if the view was a nice one.
At least the view from his neck down was.
Oh, no doubt, Michael was a ruggedly handsome man. But his expression turned him from sexy to just plain scary.
My heart pounded as I awaited his response. But he didn’t speak. He did the last thing I expected. He started to laugh, finally wiping his hand over his face to control himself enough to say, “So that’s what the old man was storming around the house about.”
“I only ran across the street to Red’s to get a bag to pick it up. But by the time I got back, it was gone. I never meant for him to have to clean it up. I swear,” I explained further, hoping he’d see my side and advocate for me with his father.
He shook his head. “He didn’t clean it up. That lady who lives next door picked it up and then came knocking to tell him she did.”
My eyes widened. “Mary Brimley? Mother fucker,” I spat.
It had to have been her since she lived next door. As the self-appointed town gossip, she was the first to report anyone not toeing the line in this town.
Red’s friend Harper had started calling her Binoculars Brimley because she saw everything. Damned if today didn’t prove that.
So she was the one who’d seen Zeus. She was the one who tattled. If it weren’t for her, I would have had the poop cleaned up before old man Timmerman ever saw it and none of this would have happened.
I glanced up to find Michael smirking. I realized I’d just cussed like a sailor and cringed. “Sorry about my language.”
He scoffed. “Don’t be sorry on my account.”
I blew out a breath, unsure what to do. “Do you know when your father will be home?”
“He went to the store. But that usually entails a side trip to the bar so I wouldn’t expect him home any time soon.”
“Oh.” Deflated, I sighed. “I guess I can come back.”
“Look. You don’t have to apologize. I’ll let him know you were here. And I’ll tell him what happened.”
“Will that make him happy?” I asked.
He lifted one dark brow above eyes so deep and intensely blue I momentarily fell into them, only just pulling myself out before I drowned. “Nothing makes him happy. But yeah, it should keep you out of trouble.”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“And um—” I almost thanked him for his service. But it seemed too trite. The man had given a limb. At a loss I finally said, “It’s good to have you back in town.”
Stone-faced, he leveled a dark glare on me. “Glad you think so.”
With that, he hopped backward once, then again, and then the door I’d been expecting to be slammed in my face since my arrival was just that.
I stood a second, thrown by the encounter. Finally, I glanced down at Zeus to see how he’d handled the interaction. We�
��d noticed at the shelter he didn’t like loud noises or raised voices.
After what he’d been through, who could blame him?
I could see he hadn’t liked how our visit had ended any more than I did. There was concern evident in his dark brown doggy eyes.
It seemed they were both wounded warriors—Zeus and Michael. Some wounds were on the outside, but there were many more invisible ones on the inside.
Still, they were wounds nonetheless. And wounds could be healed.
A thought hit me. And idea that had my heart racing.
I’d managed to help Zeus. He’d been in bad shape, emotionally, when he’d first arrived. I’d gotten him out of his depression. I’d made real strides in helping him acclimate and become more social.
If I could do it for Zeus, couldn’t I do the same for Michael Timmerman?
Maybe. Maybe not. People and dogs weren’t all that different, but they weren’t all that similar either.
All I knew was, I sure as hell was going to try.
Chapter Two
The next day dawned sunny and unseasonably hot. Odd for autumn in this region but not unheard of. After a lifetime here I’d learned to expect snow in May and heat in October.
Consequently, I didn’t put my winter clothes away until July and kept my summer outfits out through the start of November.
I pulled out a pair of knee-length shorts and one of my short-sleeved T-shirts from the animal shelter to wear for today, along with a pair of sneakers.
Zeus liked to walk fast in the morning after a good night’s rest. I needed to be dressed appropriately.
After coffee and a fried egg for me, and a bowl of food and water for Zeus, we set off on what had become our morning ritual. It encompassed a two-mile walk from my house on Depot Street, to the other end of Main Street where all the businesses where located.
There, we’d turn around and come back again.
It was the same every day. Except this morning, I found myself slowing as I passed the Timmerman house. Watching the windows for signs of life inside now that I knew Michael was back.