“I should think not,” Grady drawled to himself as he stared at Linx’s text message commanding him to meet her at another roadside inn.

Since she told him to get lost, he’d gone back to San Francisco to hand Sam off to the dog trainer. Placing dogs with veterans wasn’t as easy as he thought.

Some of them had night frights, and others were liable to snap in anger at the drop of a pin. Some had disabilities, partial paralysis, traumatic brain injuries, or were wheelchair bound. Others suffered from addiction or had abusive tendencies.

He made his best guess on rescuing a dog, and then he worked with the trainer to assess the dog as well as the veteran they were trying to match.

He typed a quick message back.

No go. Meet me in SF and we’ll talk.

Before she could text back, he silenced his phone and rang Vanessa Ransom’s doorbell.

Two dogs were already barking from behind the door, excitedly yipping and scratching. Sam stayed calm. He stood at attention, ready for anything, but completely silent.

“Okay, okay, you two,” Nessa scolded her mutts, Randi and Ronni. She opened the door and grabbed her two little rascals by the collars to keep them inside.

Randi was black and white, had an upright tail and wiry fur, a rat terrier sheltie mix, and Ronni had short, but soft brown hair with black tips, floppy ears and a bushier tail—a shepherd terrier mix.

“Got another dog for me?” Nessa stepped back to let Grady in. “Let me put these two in the bedroom. Be right back.”

She half-dragged, half-carried the two yappers down the hallway while Grady crossed the threshold.

Vanessa was a psychotherapist specializing in post traumatic stress disorder, suicide prevention, and sexual abuse recovery. In addition to seeing patients, she trained dogs for the Dogs for Vets program on a volunteer basis.

She came back from her bedroom with a big smile breaking over her pretty face. She was tall and slim, a black woman with long straight hair, large expressive eyes, and a wide, friendly mouth—and she was too much of a goody-two-shoes for him to mess with in his “hate them and leave them” state of mind.

Without coming too close, since she didn’t want to appear threatening to the dog, she stood still until Sam approached and sniffed her.

“He’s a very calm one. Unruffled,” Grady said. “I think he’ll be perfect for Zulu.”

Zulu was a former Army officer who’d been held as a sex slave by terrorists before coming back to the United States. She was living at a residential rehab center for female veterans suffering from PTSD, but had recently gotten a small apartment with her sister, a victim of human trafficking.

Both of them were Vanessa’s patients, and she worked with them during the day, learning and practicing coping strategies. At the moment, a male friend of theirs stayed with them on “guard” duty, but conditions were strained since he wanted a relationship with Zulu and she was not ready to go down that road.

“He’s a beautiful dog.” Nessa reached out and rubbed the dog’s back. “Strong too. How old do you think he is?”

“Younger than three,” Grady replied. “He was surrendered because his owner had to deploy to the Middle East.”

“Ah, so he had a soldier train him,” Nessa said. “Still, I’ll keep him separated from Ronni and Randi for the first few days, not that I think he’ll tear them up, but they can be annoying.”

“That’s because they’re so playful.” Grady cracked a grin. “By the way, the lady at the rescue says she has two retrievers for the husband and wife veterans.”

“Will she let them go without an interview?” Nessa asked.

Grady rubbed his chin. “Let’s see how it goes with Sam. She’s bending the rules, letting me bring him here.”

“Hope it goes well with Sam,” Nessa said. “Oh, where are my manners? Would you like to stay for coffee or tea?”

“Actually, I have to get going.” He patted his pocket where his cell phone had been vibrating. “Bye, Sam. Be a good boy.”

The dog gave Grady a doleful look and walked away, not caring who he went with.

“He knows we’re all temporary people,” Vanessa said. “And this is not his forever home.”

“Hopefully Zulu will take a liking to him.”

“Yep. I’ll train him to search out a room first when entering, and to sleep beside the door, blocking the entrance, that sort of stuff. But the dealing with night terrors will take longer,” Vanessa said, almost to herself.

“I trust you.” Grady waved goodbye. “Keep me posted on how he’s doing.”

“No prob.” She flashed him a smile. “Drop by any time. I make a mean jambalaya.”

“Maybe I will.” He gave her a mock salute and backed out of the door. When he got into his truck, he looked back and she was at her window, waving at him.

She was a nice woman—stable and level-headed, professional, smart, good at what she did, and not for a jerk like him.

He got into the cab and fished out his cell phone.

Sure enough, Linx had texted several times.

The woman was crazy about him—or maybe plain nuts.

I can’t just up and go to San Francisco. Who’s going to take care of the dogs?

Meet me halfway, or else.

“Eff you, Linx,” he muttered as he scrolled to the next text.

Fine, ignore me. The dogs will be gone.

Yep, she was positively certifiable, so he ignored her, giving her what she wanted.

That kiss in front of his parents’ cabin had been the eye in a monster hurricane—a quiet moment where he’d glimpsed into a life that wasn’t theirs—before the raging winds of the turmoil belonging to them returned.

He looked back at Vanessa’s neatly trimmed apartment, complete with potted geraniums on the window sill.

What would peace look like between him and Linx?

* * *

Linx sat in the corner booth at Joe’s Diner, trying not to boil over. She found the perfect pair of dogs for Grady, two dogs who’d been surrendered together, Molly and Rex, but he’d been ignoring her.

She’d heard around town that he’d been helping his parents with their insurance claim, clearing their property, and also driving Cait around.

And now, after several days of no text messages, he finally texted that he was in San Francisco and wanted her to meet him there, knowing she didn’t have the time to make the drive.

Why was he being so difficult?

Gritting her teeth, she dashed off a load of nastygram text messages and shut off her phone. This was all about control and punishing her for not letting him come and go at the rescue center.

So she was being bitchy about this, but couldn’t he at least cater to her wishes just this once? Now that he’d been around Tami, infecting her with his charm, even her best friend was advocating for him—wanting to make exceptions.

Did no one understand her?

Linx groaned and fanned herself with the plastic laminated menu. She wished she had a twin—someone who would automatically take her side. She put the menu down and watched her sisters hanging out at the lunch counter.

They’d always had that twin connection going—finishing each other’s sentences, mirroring body language, and prolonged eye contact.

They weren’t identical twins, however. Joey was a brunette with hazel eyes and a tall, lanky frame, while Vivi was petite and curvy with light brown hair and sky-blue eyes. But other than looking different, they were the best of companions and they both loved to ride horses, sing in the choir, and volunteer to teach children useful skills in the 4-H club.

Vivi waved her hands excitedly, describing an adventure, as Joey laughed and gave her a rapt audience. The next minute, Joey rolled her eyes and tapped Vivi’s shoulder, and Vivi nodded eagerly, showing her support for whatever scheme Joey conjured up.

They had been too young to remember their mother—too young to wonder if Minx leaving was their fault. Too young to replay their mother’s cruel words over and over again.

No one wants you for a friend.

You’re just like me, a bitch.

You can’t outmad me.

Jealous, spiteful girl.

You’re ugly when you cry.

That’s too pretty for you to wear.

Linx remembered that last Christmas with her mom, when she’d received a bright red satin dress and matching ribbons. She’d been so excited to put it on, wanted her mother to do her hair up and tie the pretty ribbon around her locks.

“That’s too pretty for you to wear,” her mother had said. “Let’s save it for Joey or Vivi. A pretty dress on an ugly girl looks all wrong.”

Linx had flown into a fury, like Krakatoa blowing its top. She’d thrown herself at the Christmas tree, toppling it, then broke the ornaments against the stone fireplace.

When Dad took the rest of the family outside to play in the snow, Linx was left behind to clean up the mess. Instead, she received a spanking to end all spankings, with her mother breathing in her ear. “You’re ugly on the inside, and no amount of window dressing will make you pretty. You have a black heart. Don’t pretend you’re anything better. You make me sick. Sick. Sick.”

She’d fought back, scratching and biting, until her father heard the commotion and stopped the beating. He’d said harsh words to her mother, and the very next day, the witch took off.

The dress still hung in Linx’s closet. She’d never worn it, and the ribbons were still tied to the clothes hanger.

And no one had ever explained to her why her mother thought she was ugly, when she was the one who looked the most like her.

“More coffee?” Joey’s musical voice caused Linx to startle.

She looked up, almost not seeing her sister, her mind still fractured by the ugly memory. Their mother had left because of her.

“You okay?” Vivi slid into the booth across the table from her. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Just thinking about the past.” Linx pushed the coffee cup at Joey so she could fill it.

“About Gran?” Joey asked. “I miss her, too.”

“Actually, I was thinking about our mother.” Linx noticed both her sisters stiffen. “Do you ever think about her?”

“Not really, we have no memory of her,” Vivi said, looking at Joey to bolster her.

“Right, we were only two,” Joey said.

“I remember her.” Linx blinked, her lips tight. “I don’t think she liked being a mother.”

“Probably got tired of changing diapers.” Vivi laughed. “I don’t blame her. That’s why I never volunteered for the church nursery.”

“We did just fine without her,” Joey said. “Why are you thinking about her?

“She dumped off one of her prize sculptures on my porch.” Linx stared into the black coffee as if it were a mirror. “I wonder why?”

Joey shot Vivi a puzzled look and Vivi gave a shrug.

Todd stepped through the doorway, wearing his uniform.

Linx waved him over, and everyone in the diner grew quiet. The town had been buzzing about the fire and possible arson, and everyone had their speculations.

Todd hefted his weight into the booth, making the vinyl squeak. His eyes were red and rimmed with dark circles, and he blew out a tired breath.

“How’s the investigation going?” Linx asked as Joey filled Todd’s coffee cup.

“You know I couldn’t talk about it eve if I knew,” Todd said, hunching his shoulders. “Scott’s handling the coordination with Cal Fire. They sent in a big city investigator.”

“So, it’s definitely arson?” Linx asked.

Todd grunted and ordered his usual cholesterol special, while Linx went for oatmeal and raisins.

“Heard Cait and Brian are staying at the Over Easy,” Linx said. “Is she doing okay?”

Todd shrugged. “Haven’t gotten any calls about them. Brian’s a shoo-in for the Pumper Driver position, so it looks like they’re staying put.”

“You okay with that?” Linx stirred sugar into her coffee. “Just yesterday, you wanted to run the Harts out of town.”

“The Hart family are our friends,” Todd said, slapping his coffee cup on the table. “It’s Grady who’s the problem, but if you’re okay with him rubbing your face in his beard, then I’ve got nothing against him.”

“I’m okay with him.” Linx stiffened her back.

Her brother lifted an eyebrow and grunted. “Then why did you want a restraining order? You two have something sick going on if you ask me.”

“No, it’s quite simple. All I want is for him to acknowledge what a jerk he was, but he has a head as hard as mine. Maybe harder.”

“Is that so?” Todd leaned back as Joey placed a large heaping plate of bacon, sausages, eggs, and hash browns in front of him. “When you told me you wanted a restraining order, I thought you felt threatened. Has he ever been violent?”

Only during consensual sex, Linx thought, then quickly squelched the randy images and memories that went with it. She bit her lip. “No, he’s never been violent. Never hurt me physically. It’s just that I hurt all over when I see him swaggering around like he hasn’t a care in the world.”

“Meanwhile, you’re carrying around all the shame and heartache.” Todd dug into his food, his brows drawn together in thought.

“He thinks I lied about it.” Linx stirred the fruit into her steel-cut oats flavored with coconut oil instead of butter.

What could she do? Grady refused to believe she’d been pregnant, and she no longer had the baby to lay claim to him.

“There’s got to be a way to knock it through his thick head,” Todd said. “You have medical records, right? Maybe drag him to your doctor’s office.”

“It’s no use.” Linx lost her appetite. The last person she wanted to see was the doctor. “All I want is an apology.”

Right, keep telling that lie. When she first saw Grady after so many years of absence, her silly heart had believed he’d come back to town to tell her he finally believed her. She’d even imagined him groveling—a little, because alpha guys like him didn’t grovel. But even a small acknowledgment that he’d been wrong about her would have helped pave the way for her to tell him about his dog.

“Tell you what.” Todd clenched his fists so that the muscles on his forearms bulged. “I’ll have a man to man talk with him and tell him he knocked you up.”

Todd’s voice boomed so that several people around the diner turned their heads.

“Shhhh!” She wanted to sink into a hole as she gave her former classmates, her father’s beer buddies, and several tourists a sheepish grin.

A sense of urgency grabbed the bottom of her stomach and squeezed low in her gut. “It’s only a matter of time before Cait finds out everything—the baby and the dog. She’s so nosy and now she’s living in the center of the town, surrounded by gossip.”

“Too bad we can’t run them out of town like in the old days.” Todd drawled like an old-time sheriff. He chuckled to himself and added, “Besides, I like the Harts. They’re good people.”

“Maybe it’s time I faced the music.” Linx covered her head with her hands. “I suck. I’m just like Minx. A black-hearted bitch. Ugly on the inside.”

Reaching under the table to her phone, she texted Grady. We need to talk.