Man's Best Friend (The Dogmothers #5) - Roxanne St. Claire Page 0,15

rolled his eyes and disappeared into the station, and Declan took off.

A few minutes later, he pulled his truck into the garage of the brick ranch house he called home, ready for a shower and fresh clothes. The shift had been busy, but Declan had caught enough sleep that he didn’t worry much about getting the shut-eye he usually needed after twenty-four-plus hours on duty.

But instead of relaxing on a Sunday morning, listening to some classical music, drinking coffee, and catching up on the news, he responded to yet another text from Gramma Finnie. This one a reminder that Linda May invariably ran out of raspberry croissants, and no one really wanted any substitutes.

So hurry it up, lad.

The responsible one, huh? Well, someone in the family had to be. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured as he led the dog back out to his truck.

At the open passenger door, Lusky crouched down and refused to jump, instead letting out one of his signature wails.

“Come on, you’re not that fat.” Declan wrapped his arms around the dog and lifted him into the truck. “Hope Linda May lets tricolored bear-wolves in her place.”

In town, he snagged one of the secret parking spots behind the bookstore that only locals knew about, since there wasn’t another space to be found. No wonder his grandmother had sent him on this errand instead of going herself—the bakery was packed with the after-church crowd and leaf-peeking tourists scarfing down the world-class raspberry croissants.

When he reached the front of the line, Linda May, who wore her signature Best Baker in Bitter Bark name tag, offered Lusky a treat. “I didn’t know you had a dog, Declan,” she said as she bagged up the croissants.

“He was surrendered at the station. Any chance you’ve seen him before? We’ve been trying to track down an owner, if only to get some medical history and an age.”

She shook her head as she handed him change. “And that’s not a face you’d forget, is it?” Her gaze shifted past him as her face lit up. “And neither is that! Hello, Evie Hewitt. I heard you were in town, Doctor!”

Declan froze in the act of sliding a bill into his wallet, his mind going blank for a second. It always did during a rare Evie sighting.

Every time, he’d pray for the courage and strength to say something—anything—that could explain why he’d let their friendship become a casualty of that fire. But the words would never come, or the ones that bubbled up would sound hollow and pathetic, so he stuffed them back down into the emotional basement, where they’d been rotting for twenty years.

And then he was miserable for weeks.

Could this time be different? Please, God. Please.

“Oh, who do we have here?” Evie’s voice behind him punched as effectively as a fist to his solar plexus. It was still sweet and pretty and as clear as it was on those sweaty, unwelcome nights he dreamed about her. “A Husky-Malamute mix?”

Okay, maybe God wasn’t going to intervene. But…Lusky? Because who could connect with Evie better than an animal?

The dog stood a little behind him, so Evie obviously didn’t know Declan was there, giving him a few extra seconds to brace for impact before he turned.

But as he did, the dog rose up and slapped his paws on her chest, howling in a way that perfectly reflected how Declan felt every single time he saw her. Overwhelmed, dazed, and full of longing, love, agony, and ecstasy. If he could bellow like this dog, Declan might be able to explain away the last twenty years.

“Oh!” Evie stumbled back, holding out her hands and laughing in surprise. “That’s quite a greeting, my friend.”

“Sorry.” Declan managed to pull the dog back, and only then did Evie lift her gaze to look at him. And there, in that split second when she realized who he was, he saw a flash of something he remembered so well in her laser-blue eyes. That beautiful, warm, affectionate look that had been wiped away by a tragedy and time.

“Declan!” She backed away again, as if the sight of him had even more of an impact than the dog’s giant paws and loud cry.

“Hello, Evie.” Yes, he had the unfair advantage of preparation for the moment, but nothing ever really prepared him for her.

“Declan,” she said again, barely a whisper, as he could have sworn he saw a veil of protection fall over her face.

But it didn’t hide the fact that she got prettier every time he