Page 40 of Wag More Bark Less

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral as I did so well. But inside, I was groaning. Every year, the Legion opted to make a float for the annual Golden Days parade. And every year, it was a disaster. Too many stubborn old men in one place, too few decisions made. I was usually roped into helping in the eleventh hour, and we were lucky if the float looked finished, much less cohesive.

It would give me something to do, I supposed. Something to keep me occupied and away from stupid decisions that involved long blonde hair.

“We should invite Maggie to the meeting,” Opal suggested.

I looked at my niece in surprise. “Why would we do that?”

“You didn’t know?” Connor asked, as though I missed some major headline. He shook his head, smirking again. “She was in the Army⁠—”

My gaze lifted half a second before Maggie lost her balance and fell off her board.

I didn’t hear the rest of what my brother said.

I didn’t hear my own thoughts.

I just ran.

I wove through the small crowd gathered on the beach. Some were watching the yoga event while they sipped their morning coffee, others were participating on the safety of land, and some yogis on the water lost their balance on their paddleboards—apparently startled by my charging. Two of them fell in with a splash.

All of them were glaring at me.

I skidded to a stop at the shoreline, hardly a foot from the lapping water hitting my boot.

Alyssa helped Maggie back onto her board and shot me a What gives? look.

“Sorry,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender, though it felt an awful lot like a plea for them to ignore my dumb ass.

Fuck, I’d hear about this for days. Especially since Connor witnessed my idiocy firsthand. I didn’t have to look back to know he was laughing. I could fucking hear him.

“The water’s not that deep here, Chief,” Anita Harris, my former high school English teacher, called from the front row of paddleboarders in the lake.

“First responder habit,” I said.

“If I fall in, will you rescue me?” Lotti Daniels cooed from her yoga mat firmly planted in the sand. She was one of my sister’s book club ladies, one of the rowdier ones, despite her senior citizen status. Or maybe because of it. Everyone within earshot—which was most of the crowd because Lotti was not a shy woman by nature—laughed.

“You’re on dry land,” I pointed out.

“Don’t have to be.” She wriggled her eyebrows at me suggestively.

“I apologize for the disturbance,” I said, holding up another hand. Fuck, I needed to get out of here.

And yet, my feet shuffled so slowly I might as well be stuck in a sand trap. My traitorous gaze carried straight to Maggie. Her already snug clothes clung tighter now that they were soaked.

She looked a little shaken, but she was laughing more than spitting out water. Knowing she was safe, the tension I’d been holding uncoiled as I tried to slink away. Disadvantage of being tall—it was hard to disappear in a crowd.

Before I could make my full retreat back to the sidewalk near the road, Maggie’s attention zeroed in on me the same moment she pulled off her long-sleeve T-shirt. Dear fucking God, I wasn’t prepared for the sight of her in a blue and white striped bikini top. Or was it a sports bra? Whatever the fuck it was, it wasn’t enough fabric to keep my thoughts in the safe zone.

“Now I know not to run from the cops,” Frank said, cackling as I rejoined my group. “You sprinted out there like there was someone holding a blowtorch to your ass. I’m surprised you were able to stop yourself before you hit water. That’s impressive.”

“What was that about?” Connor wore a cocky smirk that said he was jumping to all kinds of conclusions and enjoying every one of them.

“I thought she hit her head.” It was a bullshit answer—I watched her make a clean fall—but I hoped it’d make them back off just the same. Just to be safe, I added, “It was a precaution. That’s it.”

“Maggie’s okay,” Opal said, grabbing the back of my forearm. She looked up, offering me a simple smile that calmed my racing heart. “She’s just cold.”

It was eerie at times, this feeling that my nine-year-old niece could read my thoughts. She was highly perceptive for her age, much like her own mother had been. She seemed to sense shifts in moods and understand what reassurance people needed.

“Thanks, kiddo.”