The Bad Boy Of Butterfly Harbor. Anna J. Stewart

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ salt air. The lawn, while short, was sun-dried brown, the unique wheat-colored hue that only resulted from dying earth.

      How fitting, given the failing house had never been much of a home.

      Funny. He’d been willing to expose himself to hatred and anger by stepping right into Holly’s world with barely a passing thought, and yet here he sat, paralyzed by a house containing memories that couldn’t hurt him.

      Luke scrubbed a hand over his chin. Maybe coming back had been a mistake. Trying to make amends for the past felt selfish, but he at least needed to try. Still, it hadn’t taken him long to realize what he’d feared the past twelve years.

      Luke didn’t belong in Butterfly Harbor.

      The wind picked up and chills erupted along his bare arms. For an instant, he swore he heard the drunken, disparaging cackle echoing so often from his father—as if the old man was relishing Luke’s crisis of confidence. If there was one thing Luke was certain of, it was that Ward Saxon would have taken great pleasure in Luke’s difficult situation.

      Eight years in the ground and his father could still chip away at Luke’s self-worth. Luke had been a soldier and a cop, but in his mind, he’d always hear his father beating him down, telling him he’d never amount to anything. That he would always be unworthy of respect, let alone affection.

      Darkness crept across his heart, but the bright image of Holly Campbell’s wide-eyed face prevented the depression from completely settling.

      While he was grateful for the second chance, part of him regretted running. But he wasn’t running anymore. He and Holly would have to get used to that fact.

      He may as well ask for the secret of eternal youth. Where there was hope, even imagined hope, there was the possibility that life could get better. That was something his father would never have understood.

      “Enough already.” Luke shoved out of the truck and dropped to the ground, wincing as his stiff muscles protested the sudden movement. His shoulders and back had throbbed all night, but he’d ridden it out, opting for two aspirin rather than the painkillers that scared the crap out of him. The pain would have to be unbearable for him to consider ingesting any substance with a tendency for addiction.

      He shuffled his feet, craned his neck as he glanced around the expanse of property. The eerie Sunday-morning silence made him tense, as if the world was about to explode and he was the detonator. He was as far from the main drag of town as one could get and still be called part of Butterfly Harbor. His nearest neighbor lay a half mile down the road, his own house hidden behind a thicket of trees and dense shrubs. One would have to know the house was here to find it. The short driveway was canopied by overgrown redwoods, shaved back to allow cars through.

      Luke preferred silence, but here, he knew no one could hear him scream.

      Counting the steps it took to reach the porch, Luke stopped at the base of the stairs, his courage fading as the midmorning clouds burned away under the sun’s rays. He’d imagined this moment a hundred times in the past few weeks.

      His stomach rolled. He may as well have been chained to the past, unable to break free and take that last step up. And one step inside.

      He dropped his head forward as the sick feeling he’d tried to bank washed over him. He was right. Coming here had been a bad idea.

      A high-pitched sound caught his ear, a whine followed by a shuffling. Luke inclined his head, listened. There it was again. He bent down as he scanned the ground. A child? A hurt child? Wait. Longer this time, deeper, weaker. And it was coming from under the stairs.

      Luke scrambled forward to wrench what was left of the rotting trellis free, and tossed it aside. Black eyes as big as saucers blinked at him. The haggard golden retriever’s face was caked in mud and grime. Vines and weeds were wrapped around its paws and neck.

      “Hey, boy.” Luke inched forward, held out a hand for a sniff as he gave the dog a once-over. Yep. Definitely a boy. A cool, damp nose pressed against his palm as the dog issued another whine. “How’d you get in here?” But Luke already knew. He’d wedged himself through the trellis often enough himself as a boy. The dog whimpered. Nudged him again. “Okay, let’s see what’s going on here.” Without moving the animal, Luke reached for the pocketknife he always carried, snapped it open and cut the vines. As he was pulling them aside, he stopped, examined them more closely and felt a bolt of anger strike through him. Those were knots. Hand-tied knots.

      As if sensing Luke’s sudden shift in mood, the dog started to tremble. “Shh.” Luke stroked a hand down the dog’s side, soothing him, letting the dog calm him, and waited until the shaking subsided before he cut the remaining ties. The retriever wasn’t an adult, but he wasn’t small, either. As Luke considered his options on how to remove him from under the stairs, the dog scooted forward on his belly, crawling to freedom, before collapsing on the crispy grass with an exhausted sigh. “You must be thirsty.” Luke scratched the dog’s head right between the ears and saw black eyes lift to his, a mixture of gratitude and approval in his canine gaze. “And hungry, too, I bet.”

      Another whimper.

      “Okay. Give me a minute.” As Luke stood up, the dog’s head popped up. “I’ll be right back.” Mind racing, he jogged to the truck to rummage through the few supplies he’d bought, but nothing that would be good for a dog. And he’d forgotten to buy bottled water. The dog whined and Luke’s heart clenched before he raced up the front stairs and into his past.

CHAPTER FIVE

      HOLLY KNEW SHE’D have to get used to seeing Luke around town, but she hadn’t expected to see him again quite so soon. Her break from the diner provided enough time to hop over to the Flutterby Inn and pick up Simon, but as she reached the corner of Morning Dew Drive and Monarch Lane, she spotted Luke’s beat-up red truck parked outside Doc Collins’s veterinary clinic.

      She caught her lower lip between her teeth. She could avoid him by taking the long way around, but that was ridiculous. She couldn’t waste her time going out of her way to avoid something she couldn’t change. She’d have to suck it up and accept Luke Saxon was here to stay. For now, at least.

      “Come on, boy,” she heard Luke call as she kitty-crossed the street. The stress in his voice reminded Holly of how she sounded whenever Simon was sick; a half pleading, half desperate cajole that struck against her chest. Except Luke didn’t have a child that she knew of. Dang it. Keep walking.

      Curiosity battled her determination to keep her distance. She didn’t want—or need—Luke in her life, and she doubted he’d appreciate her butting into his business, but the next thing she knew, she’d rounded the truck and found Luke squatting beside the open passenger door to the cab. “I promise Doc Collins won’t hurt you.”

      “It’s not the Doc Collins you remember,” Holly said as a soft bark came from the truck. “His daughter Selina runs the practice now.”

      “Thanks for the heads-up.” Luke tilted his chin to look at her. An expression she could only identify as fear clouded his blue eyes. “I found him under the porch of the house this morning. Getting him into the truck wasn’t a problem. Getting him out...”

      Holly moved closer and Luke got to his feet. He was filthy, the front of his jeans and T-shirt muddied, his arms caked in dirt, and she saw streaks of grime in his hair and across his face. To his credit, Luke’s concern for the dog had taken over, and Holly СКАЧАТЬ