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  Maybe it wasn’t his highest priority, but this week had him facing a city council meeting where he would listen to the concerns of citizens who wanted a crime update and a meeting with the city planner. Excuse him if he could use a little pick-me-up. The sight of beautiful and sweet Zoey would lift his spirits. A single woman who wasn’t on the make and interested in lassoing him like a wild buck. At thirty-two, he’d had enough of that.

  “I’ll head over there and check it out.”

  “Good luck, sheriff. God bless you. You’re a saint.”

  Hardly. Was he a saint because every time he laid eyes on his little sister’s best friend he wanted to kiss her full and sensual lips? Would a saint notice every curve of her body and her perfectly shaped behind?

  No. He was no saint and he didn’t appreciate being put on a damn pedestal again. But the residents of Fortune had put him there. He simply understood restraint. Boundaries. He understood the importance of order to avoid chaos. Having been an officer in the army, he’d learned plenty about duty and obligation. Leadership. That didn’t make him a saint. Far from it.

  When he arrived at Zoey’s a few minutes later in his Jeep, she was sitting on the top step of her small porch. Hair in a ponytail, wearing dark sweatpants and a loose T-shirt with a saying written on it that had him losing his focus for a moment. She held one of her many dogs. This one a little ankle biter named Indie. She might have slept in those clothes, and he metaphorically shook his head and tried not to picture her sleeping. With or without clothes. Of course, his preference would be for the latter.

  “Hey,” he said as he walked up to her.

  She stood, cuddling Indie. “Sorry, Ryan.”

  To his horror, it looked like she’d been crying. Her eyes were red rimmed and her cheeks tear streaked. Two seconds into this call and she was already killing him.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “They always send you out for the nutcases.”

  “Not this time.” He straightened and met her gaze. “If someone took your dog, this is a robbery.”

  “Exactly!” Her brown eyes flashed in a way that shouldn’t affect him the way it did.

  Long ago he’d decided to take a hands-off approach to Zoey. He’d always been attracted to her, but she was sweet, innocent and vulnerable. He neither needed nor deserved any of those things in his life.

  “Show me where this happened.”

  She led him to the side gate, stepped inside the yard and set Indie down on the lawn. “He’s upset. Almost as much as Corky. It’s like when you think you hate someone, but don’t realize until they’re gone how much you’ll miss them.”

  He inspected the gate latch, which didn’t seem to have been bent or broken in any way. “And this gate was latched.”

  “Yes, I... I think so.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “I always latch it.”

  He shut the gate and stood on the other side. “Do me a favor and latch it now.”

  When he heard it snap into place, he reached one arm over and easily unlatched it. It would have to be someone at least six feet tall or more, but...

  “Even if it was latched, it could have been easily unlatched from the outside.”

  “See? Someone did take him.”

  “You’re sure someone didn’t just leave the gate open? Your gardener maybe? Boo didn’t just get out and go for a walk?”

  “I don’t have a gardener and Boo doesn’t like walks. I searched the neighborhood. No one saw him and he couldn’t have gotten very far on his own.”

  O-kay. So he had himself a little mystery on his hands. One he’d probably solve in a couple of hours, but nevertheless he welcomed the challenge.

  “Do you have any idea who would have taken him?”

  “Obviously someone tall.” She glanced behind him to the gate and worried a fingernail between her teeth. “But I don’t know who would do this. Or why.”

  “Wasn’t he one of your adoptions?”

  “Yes, and I’ve been trying to find the perfect home for him.”

  He could see why that would be a chore. The dog was roughly the size of a small horse. “You were actually trying to give him away and someone steals him?”

  That made no sense. Why steal the dog when they could have him for the asking?

  Maybe someone who didn’t know that Zoey was trying to find Boo a home. He had to wonder, too, why this was such an issue when it seemed Zoey’s problem had been solved. The dog had found a home. But he knew better. Zoey wouldn’t rest until she knew that the dog was in a good home. One of her most endearing, as well as frustrating, qualities. She’d tried several times to get some of his friends to adopt Boo, he assumed so she could keep an eye on him, but no one had the room. Neither did Zoey, a fact that didn’t seem to matter to her.

  The radio squawked on his shoulder. “Davis.”

  “You’re needed at city hall.”

  He winced. “Why?”

  “Some kind of press conference.”

  Nothing like last minute. Their current mayor excelled at last minute. Ryan had gone to school with the man so he felt qualified to judge.

  “I’ll be there.”

  Zoey had already picked up Indie and walked toward her sliding glass door. “See you later.”

  “Wait a second.” He waved her over.

  “You have to go.”

  He hated that she would have to wait, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take this seriously.

  “Here’s what I want you to do. Make a list of anyone you can think of, anyone at all, who might want to take Boo. I’ll send a deputy over to file a police report. I’ll find him for you, Zoey. Don’t worry.”

  She gave him a heartbreaking smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

  “It’s my job.”

  Helping her, of course, would be a special honor but she didn’t have to know that. Zoey had always struck him as someone who liked to blend into the background. Hide in the shadows. Amazing how well she’d managed, too, considering she was a knockout. A ten on his scale. He figured she hid well because of the way she dressed and because she often wore her hair in braids. She didn’t wear makeup like his sister and other women he knew.

  Plus, all the animals. She wasn’t the crazy cat lady but some called her the pet whisperer. Jill swore Zoey had an uncanny ability to determine each person’s perfect pet match. She was a bit younger than Jill and even younger than him. Unlike Jill, Zoey was innocent and shy. He couldn’t help thinking virginal, but that likely wasn’t true anymore. Not that it was any of his business. He made an effort to redirect his thoughts. But then again, as long as his thoughts remained just that, thoughts and nothing more, who would be the wiser?

  He had a job to do, and she was a resident like all the others who deserved no less attention.

  Though he loved serving, he wasn’t thrilled living life so publicly and wished someone else with enough so-called stature had expressed an interest in being sheriff of Fortune. Ryan had agreed to run at the request of the mayor—they’d had a special election after the last sheriff had been run out of town following a small-town scandal, and no one had been primed to take his place. So, though Ryan had been working as a detective up north in Oakland, he was quickly recruited by the powers that be to move back to Fortune, his small hometown, and run for sheriff. All politics. He’d easily won the election in a landslide.

  He blamed the medal.

  The medal of honor that the United States government had bestowed him, which he was still trying to earn. He’d done what he had to do to save the lives of the men that were under his command. In his opinion that didn’t make him a hero. His life had never been the same after the medal, for more than one reason. A parade on his return was one of those reasons. Being called a hometown hero was another.

  After the service, he’d naturally fallen into law enforcement and
a job as a detective for the homicide division. Living and working in Oakland had at least afforded him a certain amount of anonymity, but in Fortune, everyone knew him and his family. Everywhere he went residents bought him drinks and meals. Thanked him for his service. Some wanted to talk about the medal. He never did, preferring to leave that part of his life where it belonged.

  In the past.

  In the hot and arid desert of Iraq.

  Chapter 3

  After printing and posting Lost/Reward flyers on every block around her neighborhood, and calling every shelter within thirty miles in case the thief grew a conscience and brought Boo in, Zoey finally got herself to work and opened up her shop. The UPS guy had left a couple of shipments blocking the front door, so she pretty much had to shove and push to squeeze by. Then she dragged the heaviest box inside inch by inch. By the time she was done she was out of breath.

  The smaller box was from her mother. Zoey opened it up and read the small note inside.

  Querida:

  Use this facial cream every night. You’re getting older and it’s never too early to start. One day you’ll be like me and at fifty won’t look a day over thirty. You must come and visit me again. What’s it been? Five years? Hope you and Tia and Tio are doing well.

  Mami

  It was more like ten years and not five, but Mom still apparently lived heavily in denial. She’d forgotten about Tia’s fortieth anniversary next week but maybe she’d send something later. Zoey shoved the box aside.

  Veronica wanted Zoey to visit, but the last time she had, Zoey was fifteen. It had been a living nightmare to be around so many people who constantly fawned over her mother. There were dinners and parties and way too many crowds and cameras. One evening, Zoey had dressed up for a party like her mother so they could be “twins.” Veronica’s idea. Zoey had worn the same black clingy plunging neckline dress, her hair down, and some cute strappy heels she’d nearly taken a pratfall in.

  That night Zoey had some unwanted attention from Mami’s creepy director. He’d leered, said ugly comments no fifteen-year-old should hear from a man twice her age. Thank god she’d been rescued by a producer looking to talk to Jorge privately. Later, when he suggested Zoey play Veronica’s daughter in one of her next películas, Zoey impersonated the paint on a wall.

  Her mother had simply smiled and said: “But, Jorge, I don’t look old enough to have a teenage daughter. It’s too unrealistic and no one would believe it.”

  Ha! She wondered what her darling mother said now that her daughter was pushing twenty-seven.

  Zoey opened the next box. The heaviest shipment turned out to be her Pimp Your Pet brand dog and cat tees in assorted colors. Neon pink, neon green, neon blue. On closer inspection, however, the shirts read Primp Your Pet. And in very small, practically unreadable letters. The design she’d seen online looked nothing like this. Definitely not what she had ordered. Oh, good Lord, would this Monday stop already? How was she supposed to function after Boo had been kidnapped right out of her yard? Where was he and was the disgusting, pathetic criminal even treating him right?

  To make matters worse, this morning Ryan had shown up looking like a GQ magazine cover, law enforcement division. Golden hair in need of a cut curling at his neckline, intelligent green eyes that didn’t miss a thing. He wore a different uniform than the regular officers. Dark boots, khaki pants that fit his fine butt like they were tailored to it and a white button-up shirt with sleeves rolled, showing off strong forearms. He had his gun strapped to him in one of those black leather side holsters. Was it wrong to be turned on by that? Probably. And her, wearing sweats and a gag T-shirt that read, I Do Everything Doggie-Style.

  Yeah, she hadn’t realized that until after the fact. Face palm.

  She pulled out the invoice charging her far too much and dialed customer service. After getting through all the commands she finally reached a live person. This person thought he was a comedian.

  “Actually, don’t you think primp your pet sounds much better than pimp your pet?”

  “That’s not the name of my store. It’s Pimp Your Pet. As in outfits and everything a pet needs. But I don’t primp pets. That would imply I’m a pet grooming place and I’m not.”

  “We’ll agree to disagree. I think it’s cute. How about we split the difference and I credit you for half the shipment? It will be like a little inside joke. Pimp and primp. Maybe you could make it a contest. Which is better? Win a bag of food or something.”

  “No, I don’t think so. It’s all wrong.”

  “Alright then, calm down lady.”

  That was the second person this morning telling her to calm down. She would not calm down! “I am not a lady, sir. Take these stupid shirts back before I come find you and shove them down your gullet.”

  “No need to get crazy. I’ll send you a return address shipping label. Guess what? The shipping’s on us!”

  “How generous of you.”

  She took extra pleasure in pressing End Call by digging her index finger into her phone and pretending to push on the guy’s Adam’s apple. Crush. Oh, whew. She was not usually so violent, but it sometimes felt like a latent anger had simmered inside for...years. Taking deep breaths, she picked up Annie, the store cat, from her box near the register and gave her a cuddle. Zoey kept the gray Russian Blue at the store because she was so friendly with customers and let anyone give her a rub. Of course, Boo was also friendly with customers as well as every living thing on planet Earth, but he blocked the aisles and young children feared him.

  Someone else out there knew that he was a good dog, despite his size and general appearance. That someone had taken him without asking. Zoey already missed Boo and it hadn’t been more than two hours.

  As the morning progressed, her customers filed in one after the other. Mrs. Nesbitt for her specially ordered cat food, Mrs. Williams for her parakeet’s food and someone with an elderly dog searching for diapers. After sniffling with the nice man over aging dogs, and giving him a much-needed hug, she helped him find what he needed. Monday mornings were not her busiest time and so she attempted to occupy and distract herself by switching displays. She was in the middle of moving the cat socks to aisle two when Joanne, owner of the bridal shop nearby, came in with her friend Hudson.

  He was the firefighter lieutenant Zoey had matched with a cute cockapoo a week ago and gifted him a few supplies to tide him over. Normally, one wouldn’t think that a big brawny firefighter would be a match to a cockapoo but Zoey had seen something tender in Hud that maybe no one but she and Joanne saw. Zoey had been right, too. Another match made in doggy heaven. Her success rate was astronomical, but she didn’t like to brag.

  “Hi, guys.” Zoey left her display. “What can I help you with?”

  “Hud needs help.” Joanne eyed Hud with a look of pity and patted his biceps. “He always does with the ladies.”

  “Hey!” Hud protested, but he grinned at Joanne.

  He didn’t look like the type to ever have trouble with the ladies, unless the trouble included kicking them out of his bed. That might be a problem, she could see.

  “Oh no, is Coco not doing well? What’s wrong?” Zoey asked.

  “I don’t like that name, by the way.” He ignored the question and scowled in Joanne’s direction. “Why do you get to name my dog?”

  “Because I have better taste than you do.” Joanne batted her eyelashes at him.

  “Who says? Rachel is a great name.”

  “Your childhood addiction to Friends and uber-crush on Rachel is rearing its ugly head again.”

  “So what? She’s hot.”

  “Rachel is a great name for a woman, not so much for a dog. Think of it as a best friend’s right. I get to name your dog so you don’t look stupid calling her in every night. Rachel! Rachel! People are going to think you lost your woman again.”

  “And Coco is not going
to make me sound dumb? Face it. You’re trying to take away my man card.”

  Zoey cleared her throat. Sometimes it felt like people didn’t notice she was still standing there. Sometimes that worked for her. Other times, like now, not so much.

  Joanne turned to her. “Hud is going to need a few more things. Where are the fancy collars?”

  Zoey led her to the right aisle and Joanne flitted around, picking blingy collars in pink and heart-shaped name tags. Hud grumbled as he let her pick out everything and put it in the basket he carried. Joanne had good taste. When Zoey rang him up, Hud had spent three figures and almost made up for Zoey’s craptastic Monday. He pulled out his wallet, extracted his American Express and threw Joanne a look that only a best friend could get away with. But when they left the store, they were both laughing and smiling as she put her arm through his.

  “Have a great day, guys!” Zoey wasn’t sure they’d heard her.

  She’d finished rearranging the cat sock display and called it a win when she thought she smelled smoke. She carefully went around every aisle, sniffing in every corner. Bringing in her dogs would have been handy today. They’d smell a fire two miles away. Annie slept calmly and surely would sleep through Armageddon. Zoey turned down the music piping through the store in the background so she could concentrate and smell better. But it wasn’t until she saw Fred from Fred’s Auto Repair running outside and then back into his shop with his arms thrown up in the air like a crazy person that she thought to go outside. The acrid and strong smell of fire was much stronger there and it felt as though a stone lodged in her throat. Pimp Your Pet was in an older strip mall in town at the bottom of Wildfire Ridge.

  They hadn’t had a wildfire there in years, and Zoey prayed they wouldn’t have one now. Jill had her brand-new business on the ridge, and she and Sam were building a home there. This could be a disaster. Zoey walked outside to get a better view of the ridge and saw black smoke and flames rising out of the dumpster ten feet to the side of the last building. Customers and shopkeepers were standing nearby, simply watching. Fingers cupped over mouths. Jaws dropped. Hands to chests. Smoke anywhere during wildfire season struck dread in every resident.