Kiss Me in the Summer - Barbara Dunlop Page 0,41

that I would normally think much about the feelings of a dog. I mean, how many feelings did they have anyway? Time to eat, time to bark, time to play, and time to sleep. Well, plus the other one. But I didn’t need to think about that.

Butch’s expression looked eager to me right now, anticipatory, like he knew what was coming next and he was going to like it.

I liked to consider myself kind and caring and even compassionate. So, what kind of woman would I be if I didn’t let Butch have a little fun? It wasn’t like I’d get any wetter by sitting up here for a few minutes.

“Fine,” I said. “It’s not the end of the world. I’ll dry off later.”

“That’s the spirit,” Josh said with enthusiasm.

He unclipped Butch, who immediately dashed off, nose down in a zig-zag pattern as he checked out the features of the beach. He seemed very excited about the venture.

Then Josh produced a bright orange ball from his pocket and whistled. He tossed the ball into the surf. Butch watched the arc, and when it landed with a splash, he took off like a shot, plunging into the water and paddling fast.

“Good, boy,” Josh called out.

I smiled for a second, watching the dog. Then I felt the weight of the phone in my hand, my connection to Manhattan, something to remind me that life was moving on outside of Rutter’s Point.

Butch bounded out of the water. He ran straight to Josh to drop the ball at his feet. Then Josh scooped it up and stepped back out of the way, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Butch shook his long black fur, spraying water in every direction. At least I wasn’t the only one ending up wet.

“Newfoundlanders love the water!” Josh called out to me.

“He sure seems to,” I said.

“This’ll wear him out.” Josh threw the ball, arcing it into the surf again, and Butch shot out after it.

I felt good right now, in this moment, in this place, watching Josh and Butch in the fresh air and wide-open space. A big part of me didn’t want to disrupt the moment. But I knew it was time to check in.

I put in my password, and the new voice-mail messages started to play.

The first was from a reporter, asking me to call him back about the video. I pressed delete.

The second was from my assistant telling me she’d talked to Cecily and I should call her if I needed anything. I didn’t need anything right now. Delete.

As another reporter’s voice came through the small speaker, my focus settled on Butch again. He was diligently paddling back to shore, straight for Josh, who was silhouetted by the moon and watching the dog’s progress.

There was yet another message from another reporter, then another, and another. I deleted them one by one.

Then a message came up from Cecily, surprising me since she normally stuck to texting. “Laila? Call me when you get this, okay?”

Next was my assistant again, telling me Thad had taken my files on a couple of cases. No huge surprise there. It was common practice to share the load when associates were on vacation. I knew Cecily wouldn’t have been able to take on everything that I’d been forced to leave partway done.

But then Cecily was back. “I don’t know where you ended up, or if you’re even getting these, but . . .” I could hear some background noise. She lowered her voice. “Call me. Things have gotten strange.”

“Laila?” Josh was standing at the bottom of the rock looking up at me. Then he grinned. “You phoned home.”

“I’m deleting reporters’ messages.”

“You don’t want to be featured on the network news?”

I rolled my eyes at him.

Butch came bounding up the beach to drop the ball again.

“Heads-up,” Josh called out as Butch began to shake his fur.

I pulled my legs from the line of fire and avoided most of the damage.

Josh tossed the ball again, and I listened to the next message.

Cecily sounded worried this time. “Laila, you’re freaking me out,” she said. “I mean, there’s offline, and then there’s offline. Where are you?”

*

Back at Madeline’s, I showered off the sand and saltwater.

I hadn’t been able to get hold of Cecily, but I’d left a message and turned my phone on to receive her reply. Obviously she hadn’t expected me to stay completely out of touch for an entire week.

I changed into a pair of leggings and a mottled black and white tunic top. I covered