Operation Homecoming. Justine Davis

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      Amy laughed at Hayley’s serious tone as her friend hit the unlock button and the compact SUV chirped obligingly. She opened the driver’s door. Cutter jumped out at their feet. He was as beautiful as Amy remembered with his black head and shoulders and russet-brown body. He greeted Hayley with a swipe of pink tongue. To Amy’s surprise, she herself got a more effusive greeting, a plumy tail-wagging, nudging sort of dance that made her smile. She set down her voluminous purse to greet him properly.

      “Well, hello again, Cutter.”

      He gave a short yip, and she bent to pet him. The moment she stroked his dark head she felt an odd sensation of relief, as if suddenly she knew it would all work out, it would all be all right. All the fears seemed to not vanish but at least recede.

      In that instant, the welcoming dance stopped. The dog leaned into her, staring up into her face. Something in the intense gaze, or in those gold-flecked dark eyes, was mesmerizing, and she couldn’t seem to look away.

      And then he moved. He turned, sat down at Amy’s feet and looked up at Hayley. And Hayley, oddly, stopped midmotion as she was putting her own purse in the car. Her eyes flicked from the dog to Amy.

      “Uh-oh,” Hayley said.

      “What?”

      “Are you all right?”

      Amy hadn’t expected that. At least, not so soon. “Fine,” she said. And health-wise, it was true. Otherwise, not so much. But she needed to work up to discussing that. “I may need your help loading this up, though,” she said, gesturing at the large blue suitcase.

      “Hmm.” Hayley sounded doubtful, but she seemed to accept the answer. She looked back at the dog. “I got it, boy. I promise.”

      Cutter gave a low, soft whuff and a movement of his head that looked startlingly like a nod. Amy had no idea what was going on. She’d never had a dog, so she was a neophyte.

      Within a few minutes they were out of the airport and onto the freeway. Amy knew it would be only natural for Hayley to ask how things were going at work and she wasn’t ready for that, so she turned it around.

      “How are things at the Foxworth Foundation?”

      “Quiet,” Hayley said. Then she glanced toward the back of the SUV where Cutter was now settled in quietly. “At least, they have been. It’s been nice to have a break.”

      “Especially since your last case was so huge. Talk about taking on the big guys!” Amy knew the Foxworth Foundation had only one goal, to help those in the right who couldn’t fight alone any longer. The size of the case didn’t matter, but sometimes it got both large and complicated.

      Hayley laughed. “Hey, we weren’t even here. That was Cutter and Brett Dunbar, with a little help from Rafe. And things are already getting fixed.”

      Amy studied her friend for a moment. Hayley had been through some rough times—the death of her father when she was twelve, more recently the long, slow battle with her mother’s terminal cancer. And of course there was Walker, that black-sheep miscreant. Hayley was far too generous when it came to her thoughtless, selfish, coldhearted brother. All she ever said about the guy who had walked out after their family tragedy, who had later left her alone to deal with their mother, was that everyone had to handle grief in their own way.

      She supposed she might be inclined to a little more generosity herself if she hadn’t had such a crush on him when she was a kid, Amy thought. She’d adored Walker Cole, and although she was just his little sister’s friend, he’d always been kind. And then he’d shattered all her illusions. She tried not to remember her foolishness.

      “You’re sure Quinn won’t mind me being here? I mean, you have only been married three months.”

      Hayley laughed. “He’s glad you could come. He even said it was too bad you couldn’t stay for the month.”

      “I couldn’t, anyway. I have our big office anniversary party in a couple of weeks,” she said, “but remind me to thank him for that.”

      “He knows what you mean to me,” Hayley said quietly. “He knows you were there for me every time life kicked me in the teeth. You never let me down.”

       Unlike your idiot brother, who left you alone to deal.

      She stopped herself before she could go down that path. Thinking of Walker Cole was not going to help matters. Because then she would start thinking about how nice he’d once been to her, how he tolerated her silly crush, which would make her think of how just spotting him had sent her heart racing, how she’d learned everything she could about baseball because he played it. Then she’d graduate to his crooked grin, thick, unruly hair and those amazing hazel eyes that were a golden green rimmed with a darker shade, so different from his sister’s meadow green. She knew it was a trick of melanin and light scattering, had even looked it up once, but that didn’t detract from the beauty of them.

      And here she was, thinking about him.

      She shook off the odd mood, determined to enjoy this visit as much as she could, despite the reason for it. And despite her fear that her life was going to blow up.

      “What are you frowning about?”

      “Was I?”

      “Yes. Let me guess, you’re still mad at Walker?” That was the problem with best friends; they saw things others might miss.

      “After what he did? Of course I am. On top of everything else, missing your wedding without even a word except that stupid text message?”

      For the first time a hint of disappointment showed on Hayley’s face. “Yes. He did. And I’m not sure Quinn will forgive him for that very soon.”

      “I think I’d like to see the day they finally meet, if they ever do,” Amy said, thinking with a rather grim satisfaction of the powerful—and intimidating—Quinn Foxworth taking Walker Cole apart piece by piece.

      “You wouldn’t hate him so much if you hadn’t loved him first,” Hayley said.

      “Schoolgirl infatuation,” Amy said, even as she realized ruefully how close her friend’s words were to her own earlier thought. “Believe me, I’m angry enough on your behalf alone.”

      This was true, but she also knew that she had loved him, with all the strength of her teenage heart. She’d loved his laugh, she’d loved the way he teasingly winked at her and she would never, ever forget the time he had come to her defense when she’d been cornered by a trio of nerd-baiting mean-girl types. He’d already been tall at seventeen, and a star athlete, and that he had bothered to step in and chase off the three—who happened to idolize him, the star pitcher on the high school baseball team—had thrilled her down to her thirteen-year-old soul. It had also insulated her somewhat from further attack. Word had gotten out that she was under the protection of Walker Cole, and while she was sure the nasty comments and thoughts continued, she was never backed into a corner again.

      And then it had all fallen apart. His father died and a year later he was gone, the college scholarship abandoned along with his mother and his little sister. The mother and little sister Amy had always thought he loved.

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