Miracle Road: Eternity Springs Book 7 (6 page)

This truth didn’t improve her frame of mind one bit.

Grumpily, she asked, “Are you always this big of a jerk?”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t help that the painkillers haven’t kicked in.”

She frowned. “Is the bite really that sore?”

“If I said yes would you kiss it and make it better?”

She halted abruptly. Her jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe he’d said that. They had just met, and he didn’t even know her name, and he went and spouted something like that. Unreal. “You are a pig.”

“Goes without saying,” he fired back, shrugging. “I’m a guy. The bite feels better, thanks for asking, Beulah. So does my head.”

“You had something wrong with your head? Why am I not surprised?”

Again, he showed her that smile. “Hangover.”

“I repeat: Why am I not surprised?” And his mother was such a nice person. Poor woman. Imagine this horror sitting at the dinner table on Sunday.

As they approached his house, he increased his pace so that he reached the front porch well ahead of her. The hinges on the screen door creaked as he yanked it open, then motioned for her to precede him.

Hope knew what to expect inside the house. She’d visited many times after she first moved to Eternity Springs. Her neighbor Louise Morrison had been a widow in her seventies who had befriended Hope and taught her things that had helped her adjust to life in a small Rocky Mountain town. When Louise died in her sleep the previous March, Hope had been devastated. Louise had left both her house and the care of her beloved Roxy to her nephew.

It hadn’t been a good match. The nephew’s family hadn’t liked small-town living, so as soon as they could manage, they’d moved back to Colorado Springs, leaving Roxy behind but promising to send for her as soon as they could find a new apartment that allowed pets.

She wasn’t holding her breath for that phone call.

A wave of sorrow washed over Hope as she walked inside. She missed Louise.

“It’s that way,” Lucca said, pointing toward his bedroom. “Go on in. I’ll get the box.”

Hope didn’t bother to tell him that he could get all the boxes he wanted, but she wasn’t going to relocate those puppies until Nic Callahan gave the okay.

Entering Lucca’s bedroom, she only vaguely noted the unmade queen-sized bed and the open duffel bag on the floor. Her attention was focused on the closet, a long, narrow opening with bifold doors that stood completely open. She saw Roxy stretched out on a pile of clothing on the floor.

Hope went down on her knees just outside the closet opening. In a soft, gentle tone, she said, “Hey there, Roxy. Hey there, girl. Look at you, little mama.”

The dog lifted her head, and Hope got her first good look at the nursing puppies. Her heart melted. “Aww …”

They were tiny, no bigger than the palm of her hand. Two tan and one dappled, tan and white. Roxy lay her head down once again and Hope rolled back on her heels. Puppies. They stayed with their mother what, six weeks? Eight? Then they were taken away? Ripped out of their mother’s life?

Tears stung her eyes. “Oh, Roxy. Roxy.”

Who decided that was okay? Who decided that animals didn’t grieve for their offspring?

“I’m in trouble,” she murmured. She knew that Louise’s nephew would never actually send for Roxy. It had been three weeks since they left town, and she’d not heard one word from the man. So in reality, these four dogs were now her responsibility. Was she supposed to start looking for homes for them? Four separate homes? She couldn’t do that. But then that would mean …

“I can’t keep four dogs.” What was she going to do?

Her cellphone rang and she reached for it like a lifeline. Checking the number, she breathed a sigh of relief and answered. “Hello, Nic. Thank you so much for returning my call. I’m afraid I have a bit of a situation, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

She explained what had happened and asked for Nic’s guidance. Nic asked a few questions, gave Hope some instructions, then offered to stop by to check on Roxy and her litter that afternoon. Surprised, Hope asked, “You make house calls?”

“Just looking out for my own interests,” Nic replied. “With two girls headed for kindergarten soon, I figure it’s never too soon to suck up to the teacher.”

Hope laughed. “Thanks, Nic. I’ll see you later.”

She ended the call and rolled to her feet. Turning around, she saw Lucca standing just inside the door, a cardboard box in his hand. She stepped past him, saying, “I’ll be back.”

He reached out. “Hold on there. You’re forgetting something.”

His big hand wrapped completely around her upper arm. He didn’t squeeze; it wasn’t painful. He simply prevented her from moving beyond the threshold of his bedroom door.

He stood close, smelling of soap, a fragrance she recognized as one of the men’s soaps his sister-in-law’s shop sold. He stood so near to her that she could feel the heat of his body. When was the last time she’d stood this close to a man in a bedroom?

“You’re taking the pups.”

“Yes, but later.”

“How much later?”

Hope’s mind was spinning with a list of supplies. “I need to prepare a place for them to stay. The vet told me what to do and how to do it. Once it’s ready, I’ll come back and get the dogs.”

He gave her a dubious look. “How long is this preparation going to take?”

“Not that long.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied her. “Why don’t I help you? We’ll get things done twice as fast.”

“Thank you, but what I have to do is really a one-person job. I’ll be back in an hour. Two at the most.”

After a moment’s pause, he nodded, and his hand dropped to his side. “I’m going to trust you’ll make this fast. I might not know your name, but I do know where you live. I can move the mutts myself if I have to.”

“Please don’t. I’ll be back for them. I promise. I really am sorry about this—sorry about the bite. I know it’s disruptive to have puppies in your closet. I’ll be two hours, tops, Mr. Romano.”

Again, he flashed a smile, only this time the darn thing seemed resigned. Almost genuine. It lit up the emeralds of his eyes, and her mouth went a little dry at the sight.
Oh, my, he’s really gorgeous.

He led her across to the front door, then he held it open for her. As she stepped out onto his porch, he repeated, “Two hours, tops. See you soon, Bertha.”

The screen door banged shut behind her, and despite herself, Hope grinned.

An hour and forty minutes later, she was back. She’d moved some furniture out of the room she used as a home office and set up the whelping pen on loan from Nic that she’d picked up at the vet clinic. She’d lined it with layers of newspaper and fabric and ordered absorbent puppy pads online that should arrive the following day. After talking to Nic, she was both nervous about what she’d committed to do and excited for the new experience.

Carrying a laundry basket filled with towels and a blanket, she knocked on Lucca Romano’s front door. Minutes passed. She knocked again. She heard no sound at all from inside the house. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Mr. Romano? Lucca?”

Nothing.

“Well, hurry up and wait,” she muttered. It figured that he’d be the type to demand punctuality in others but consider himself above the common courtesy in return. She didn’t have time to waste. She wanted to get Roxy and the puppies all settled by the time Nic arrived to check on them so that she could advise her if she’d done something wrong. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Lucca?”

She listened. Nothing. She tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked.
He did tell me to come get the dogs. That’s a tacit invitation inside, I’d think.

Hope stepped into the house and moved confidently toward the bedroom. As she passed the hall bathroom, she noted that he’d left the wet gym shorts he’d been wearing lying in a heap on the floor. Such a slob. Bet Maggie would just love to see that.

At the door to his bedroom, Hope stopped cold.

Lucca Romano lay sprawled on his stomach across the top of the bed, a white sheet tangled around his hips. She heard a slight snore rumbling from beneath the pillow he had pulled over his head. She took a minute to appreciate the view. Italian skin deeply tanned from a summer spent south of the border, muscles developed by years of athletic training filling out his long, tall frame: he was a gorgeous specimen of masculinity. She could easily imagine him in a charcoal Armani suit, white dress shirt, and a tie with green stripes to subtly complement the color of his eyes. Definitely
GQ
qualified.

She could just as easily imagine him without the sheet covering his hips, with his buttocks bare and firm and …
Oh, for heaven’s sake. Get the dogs before you begin to drool or he wakes up and catches you gawking.

She turned away and set about her work. She lured Roxy outside the closet with a dog treat and instructions to go outside to potty. Then she gently gathered up the puppies and placed them into her laundry basket. Picking up her burden of cuteness, she turned around and halted.

Lucca stood beside the bed facing her, his back arched, his torso twisted, his arms outstretched and muscles flexed as he stretched and yawned. She wondered if one of his Italian ancestors had modeled for Michelangelo’s
David.

“You’re wearing
Sesame Street
boxer shorts,” she observed stupidly.

“Elmo.” He gave a lazy smile and arched a challenging brow. “Like ’em, Brunhilda?”

“I’d have pegged you more as Oscar the Grouch.”

“That’s what my mom said when she gave them to me. I have a whole
Sesame Street
set.”

“Your mother gives you boxer shorts.”

“And socks. Every Christmas and birthday.”

“And you wear them.”

“Why not?”

He dragged his hand down his bristled jaw and yawned once more. The sound shook Hope from her stupor. “I’d better get these little guys settled.”

“Need any help carrying them?”

“I’m good. Thanks.” Hope continued toward the door, awkwardly searching for something to say before settling on a simple “Welcome to Eternity Springs, Coach Romano.”

In an instant, he went from looking like a Roman god to an angry Mafia don. “Call me Lucca. Just plain Lucca.”

She sucked in a breath. There was anger, and yet there was such pain in this man, too. She understood pain. She sympathized with it.

Gentling her tone, she said, “I’m Hope, just plain Lucca. You can call me Hope.”

As early morning sunlight sparkled like diamonds on the surface of Hummingbird Lake, Zach Turner saw his wife and mother off on a two-day shopping trip to Denver with a hug and kiss and a caution to drive carefully. He waited until they’d turned off Reflection Point Road and disappeared from sight to make a fist pump in the air. Today was his day off and no one had claims upon his time. He loved Savannah to distraction, and he considered married life pure bliss. Getting to know his birth mother and siblings and having them as part of his daily life enriched his world. But his bachelor and sans-family days hadn’t ended all that long ago, and while he’d never admit it aloud, sometimes he missed the freedom that came with being alone.

Whistling beneath his breath, he walked toward his garage—dubbed his “toy closet” by Savannah—and opened the door. Standing in the threshold, he debated his choices. What did he want to do today? Ride his bike? Take a cruise on his motorcycle? Grab his fishing tackle and head up to the Taylor River? Maybe he should load up his climbing gear and give Storm Mountain a go. The possibilities were endless and invigorating … until the sound of an approaching vehicle made him tense.

He recognized the peculiar ping in the engine of one of his department’s Range Rovers. Why would Gabi drive out to Reflection Point today? Had there been an emergency, the office would have called. Anything short of an emergency, well, days off were sacrosanct.

He walked out to meet the truck, wondering if her visit was deputy related or sister related or both.

Gabi parked her Range Rover and approached him wearing a tired smile. The dark circles beneath her eyes made him frown. “What’s up?”

“I know it’s your day off and this won’t take long, but once I made the decision, I knew I needed to go ahead and tell you.”

Zach didn’t like the sound of that. “What decision?”

Gabi sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m giving my two-weeks’ notice. I’m leaving the department.”

He searched her eyes, so similar to his own, and spied the worry. She was fearful of his reaction, he realized. He wasn’t entirely surprised. He’d suspected for some time that she hadn’t been happy. While this was definitely a sheriff’s-deputy moment, the brother spoke to his sister and said, “Well, that sucks for me. Is it my coffee? You’ve finally had all you can stand?”

Her smile wobbled and a frown creased her brow. “Admitting this makes me feel like such a loser, but Zach, I don’t want to carry a gun anymore.”

She swallowed hard and blinked back tears, and Zach opened his arms to her. “C’mere.”

“No. I can’t.” She held up her hands, palms out, and took a step backward. “If I let you hug me, then I’ll cry, and that will be the cherry on top.”

“Cherries are good for you,” Zach responded, ignoring her protest as he pulled her into his arms. “They’re fruit and you are the farthest thing from a loser out there, Gabriella. You gave me my life.”

When old enemies attempted to murder Savannah the previous summer, Gabi had shot and killed a woman seconds after that woman had shot and damn near killed Zach. His sister’s first aid and clear thinking had saved him from bleeding out on the floor.

Now she sputtered a little as she tried not to sob against his shoulder. “That’s the problem. I’m so thankful I was there to back you up, and I’m proud that I saved you, but the thought of having to draw my gun again … to use it … gives me the creeps. I could do it if I had to—I know that—but the fact is that I walk around with a little ball of dread in my gut all the time, even here in Eternity Springs where the crime rate is next to nothing. I don’t want to live this way, Zach.”

“Then you shouldn’t.”

“That’s what my counselor said, but this is my career. I wanted to be a cop, and the bottom line is that I can’t cut it. That makes me feel lousy.”