Chapter Three

Ford rounded Lake Jocassee and stumbled over the tangle of leashes. His father used to say that one dog was a lot of help, two dogs were half as much, and three dogs were nothing but trouble.

Usually he disagreed, but this morning, he could see the tiniest bit what Dad meant.

Of course his father also applied that theory to Ford and his two brothers. Dad would assign them separate chores and turn everything into a competition. Instead of working together, the boys would race to see who’d get Daddy’s praise that day.

The past crowded his lungs, leaving his breaths too shallow to counteract his level of exertion.

The whole survival-of-the-fittest outlook had turned their relationships toxic, not pushing him and his brothers to be better but to drag one another down. Which was why Ford refused to use that method.

It didn’t help that the puppies’ harnesses had twenty-foot lead ropes attached. The first step in search and rescue training required extra length. After getting the fluffballs used to the harnesses, Ford would use a scent pad and reward them until they could scent for long distances without getting distracted.

Pyro glanced at the puppies, his exasperation clear—when it came to work, he had one mode, and that was all-out, same as Ford.

Ford’s amusement helped dilute the downer vibes associated with thinking of his family, and he slowed enough to bend and give Pyro’s side a quick pat. “They’re young yet. Once we get ’em trained, these exercises will go smoother.”

Pryo’s eyebrows twitched, followed by the doggy version of a sigh.

Affection wound through him, and he cupped his dog’s muzzle and locked eyes with him. “You gettin’ old and grouchy on me, boy? Soon, you’ll be barking at kids to get off our lawn.”

In response, Pyro barked and rushed ahead, as if determined to prove his excitement and energy were still well within young and perky range.

The puppies charged after him, attempting to match Pyro’s faster, longer stride.

Make that two out of three.

The course fibers of the ropes chafed his palm as they zipped across, and Ford’s knees cracked as he straightened and picked up his own pace. While the female of the litter was the most focused, her bigger brother had endurance on his side.

Meanwhile, the puppy with the darkest face and bounciest temperament became distracted by every blade of grass and ripple of water. He’d wandered near the shore, and his paws were a muddy mess.

“Come on,” Ford said, a stern note to his voice as he added a gentle tug. His running times were shit this week, thanks to the canine delinquents. Yeah, that’s it. Think tough.

While he’d deny it, whenever they peered up at him with their big golden eyes, he’d turn into a big ol’ sucker. A melty, tender sensation would kick in, and then he’d have to remind himself he had a job to do and couldn’t simply play with the frisky puppies.

No eye contact. Must. Remain. Firm.

Eventually he and his entire furry crew hit a decent pace.

But then the ears on the endlessly distracted puppy’s head perked up.

“Don’t do it,” Ford said, in spite of the fact that the dog’s snout was already swiveling toward the lake.

The puppy’s momentum continued to propel him forward, and he tripped over the branch his brother and sister had easily cleared.

Down he went, skidding through the mud face-first, his hind legs still pedaling.

With a shake of his head, Ford chuckled and righted the puppy. “Dude, you fell. That requires some recalibration—but first you’ve gotta get your feet back under you. Isn’t that better?”

The puppy licked Ford’s arm, leaving a sticky trail before rushing after his siblings. His whimpering bark was heavy on the How dare you guys leave me behind.

After they made it back to the truck, Ford checked the clock on the dashboard.

Thanks to the fire and the delayed training session, he didn’t have time to go shower and change for poker night. Good thing his buddies had to deal with him, clean or not.

It’d also be the perfect opportunity to socialize the puppies with people and Tucker’s dog, Flash. Mind made up, Ford drove the short distance to the houseboat and parked next to the row of trucks.

“Are you guys gonna be good?” he asked the puppies.

ADD Puppy immediately bit his sister’s ear, so nope. Since the walk onto the houseboat required a wooden plank, he gathered the three furballs and carried them inside, Pyro trotting on after.

Despite there hardly being room for two people and a dog—much less a group of dudes and dogs—the guys greeted them with gusto.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Ford said, opening the sliding door to the deck and letting his four German shepherds outside. Fortunately, Tucker had already puppy-proofed the railing for his white lab, who was hardly a puppy anymore.

Flash bounded toward the other dogs with an excited bark. In looks and in personality, he and Pyro were polar opposites, but they got along well enough.

Now Pyro will have someone to roll his eyes with.

After making sure there wasn’t any aggression with the new puppies in the mix, Ford closed the glass door, save a crack. Then he walked through the narrow alleyway that separated the kitchen and the living area and settled into his usual place at the circular table.

Addie dealt, and after Ford peeked at his cards, he reached over her to grab the bag of Doritos and a bottle of beer.

“Ugh, Ford,” Addie said, leaning away from him, “you smell.”

He draped his arm over her, yanking her face right to his armpit, the bag of chips crunching between them. “Maybe you’ve just been with Crawford too long to remember what a real man smells like.”

The slug to his obliques was solid, as Addie’s punches often were. “One, a real man showers. And two, thanks to that bet about who could swim the length of the community center’s pool the fastest—and how you decided stripping to your skivvies would make you more aerodynamic, even though I still won—I’ve seen what you’ve got going on.” She shrugged. “Eh. Not impressed.”

Oh, she had to go there? “We were ten! That was before puberty kicked in, and trust me, puberty was generous.” Ford straightened and began jokingly undoing the knot on the drawstring of his mesh basketball shorts. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Tucker placed his hand on Ford’s forearm. “How about I just prevent a lawsuit before it starts?”

“Like there’d be a lawsuit,” Ford muttered. “If I really flashed her, Murph here would bury my body in a backwoods bog, and no one would find me.”

“Truth,” Easton and Shep said at the same time, and Addie beamed as if it were the best compliment she’d ever received.

“Aww, thanks, guys. I love you, too.”

They began their first round of poker, and when Ford took a drink of beer, he twisted his neck and sniffed his armpit. He didn’t smell that bad. Just used-up deodorant and a healthy dose of smoke.

“Heard there was a fire at Maisy’s Bakery today,” Shep said, probably getting a whiff of the evidence.

“Oh yeah, how’d that go?” Addie tossed a couple of poker chips in the center of the table. “Rumors ranged between a false call and a blazing inferno where you saved women and children, but the middle ground sounded the most legit.”

“It was an easy call. No injuries, and the fire was contained in the oven, so I just unplugged it. Then Darius and I hauled it into the alley to cool down.” He matched Addie’s bet, and his mind meandered to the intriguing woman responsible for today’s emergency call. “I, uh, met Maisy’s sister. Anyone know her?”

The game slowed as everyone studied him, eyes narrowing to slits.

“What? I was just curious and thought you guys might’ve met her before.” In high school, Ford hadn’t paid much attention to Mayor Hurst and his family, his rebellious nature and infamous family leaving him wary of authority figures.

One by one, Addie placed three cards faceup on the table. “Beats me. I thought Maisy Hurst only had an older brother. Remember Mason? He played running back when we were freshmen, and now he coaches college ball.”

That sounded familiar. But Violet definitely wasn’t.

“Is that who that woman was?” Poker chips clattered together as Easton tossed two whites and a blue into the pot. “For a second I thought I was seein’ double and there were two Maisys. She seemed pretty frazzled when I took the report.”

Frazzled. Adorable. A pinch high-strung. “Ah, she just felt bad. She hadn’t meant to hit the self-clean mode. Could’ve happened to anybody, I suppose.”

Shep folded, and so did Tucker.

Ford told himself to leave it be, but he recalled those big brown eyes and the way they’d awakened something he thought he’d buried and left for dead. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to know more about Violet.

Wanted to know why she’d gotten so worked up when he’d picked up her binder.

Was it wedding plans? Or had he jumped to that conclusion because of the meeting he’d come from?

She had mentioned wanting to lie low. Maybe she was a government spy, sent to infiltrate Uncertainty with a glittery binder. Yeah, that checked out. Most spies struggled with simple electronics.

If she was engaged, it’d be better to find out now so he could put her out of his mind. Not only did he not cross that line, the mere idea of a woman longing to get hitched made him want to run, so…win-win?

Easton nudged him. “Bro. It’s your turn.”

“I raise.” Not the greatest idea, taking into account that Ford had been thinking about Violet instead of paying attention to his friends’ faces or calculating probability.

Put her out of your head. It’s not like you have extra time right now, anyway. He was neck-deep in training a rambunctious litter, and that’d take him from spring to summer. Which, as a paramedic, was his busy season. People were fishing, hiking, and camping more. Kids rode bikes and jumped on trampolines and found “secret” stashes of fireworks.

While his friends often worried about his inability to relax, his career was what he enjoyed most about his life. No day was ever the same, feeding his appetite for adventure, and in a lot of ways, it was his way to help balance out the universe.

To use the survival skills he’d learned the hard way to help people who wanted to return to their families. Just because his story hadn’t ended up happy didn’t mean others’ stories shouldn’t.

At the end of the round, the three of them who hadn’t folded revealed their cards. Easton won by a mile, earning a curse from Addie. She hated losing.

Usually, Ford did, too. But over the next few rounds, his stack of poker chips dwindled, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Mostly because Violet’s face kept drifting to mind. Maybe it was the hero complex his friends accused him of having, but she had seemed like she needed help. The kind that went beyond putting out the fire in the oven.

You don’t have time for unstable and complicated.

Been there, done that, and lost a T-shirt.

There was that moment when she’d sagged against him, though. The James Bond joke and the way she’d giggled at Pyro’s name. The jolt that’d traveled up his arm after she’d slipped her small hand in his.

“In case you haven’t noticed, McGuire,” Easton said, “you’re losing. So what the hell are you smiling about?”

Ford blinked his way to the present and resisted the urge to stack his chips—an old delay tell he’d learned to suppress. “Can’t a guy be happy?”

“No,” they all said.

“Not when you’re losing,” Murph added.

Easton paused his dealing. “It’s Maisy’s sister, isn’t it? Is our boy thinkin’ about giving dating another go?”

Tucker put a hand on his chest. “Aww. They grow up so fast.”

“What is this, the Craft Cats?” Ford asked, referring to the group of ladies in town who specialized in crafting, meddling, and cat-sweatshirt wearing. “Less gossip, more poker.”

Shep reached over Easton to take the Doritos. “Stop acting like you don’t eat up the attention and spill the beer.”

Now Shep was the one with everyone’s scrutiny.

“What? I’m around teenagers all day. They have this phrase about spilling the tea, and I thought I’d make it more adult.” Since Shep had given plenty of teachers nightmares growing up, they teased him endlessly about becoming a teacher himself. He was on the school board as well, and a few of the older ladies in town volunteered simply because they were sure Will Shepherd still had some ornery in him.

“Whatever,” Shep said. “I’m cool, while y’all’s slang is becoming irrelevant.” He licked orange dust off his fingertips before taking up his cards. “Back to this chick you met at the bakery. She must be hot.”

“I didn’t say that.” Ford loudly raised after the flop, hoping his friends would drop the subject.

“You mentioned her twice already.”

“No, I mentioned her once, and you guys assumed I was thinking about her when I smiled. I was thinking of…somethin’ else.”

The entire gang burst out laughing, and he regretted bringing up Violet.

Evidently there’d been an unspoken agreement that the game couldn’t resume until Ford came clean, so he might as well get it over and done with. “Eh. She’s cute in a lost, walking-disaster sort of way. But she’s also sorta volatile—and I’m sure we all remember why I gave that up. My truck certainly does.”

In some states, the amount of love he had for his truck might border on illegal, but the girl had never let him down. The massive grill, roll bar, and lightbar meant she could take on rough terrain, no problem.

Trina, his off-and-on girlfriend through high school and for a misguided year after he’d graduated college, had erratic mood swings. Things would be great, and then suddenly she’d lash out at him.

Not only could he not do anything right, no matter how hard he tried, their relationship began interfering with emergency calls. Trina would demand he stay and finish whatever argument he’d inevitably lose, even as others’ health and occasionally lives hung in the balance.

When Ford finally told her he was done—for good this time—she’d taken a key to the hood of his truck.

“What’s an ass cube?” Tucker had asked when they’d come out of the Old Firehouse and spotted Trina’s handiwork.

“She must’ve gotten tired after carving the giant A, S, and S, so she added a circle. Only curved lines are hard to draw with keys, so it looks like a square.”

For two whole months, he’d driven around his “ass cube” truck, no money or time to get it fixed. When Dear Old Dad had seen it, he’d guffawed and added insult to injury with his “Told ya, son. They all turn eventually.”

“I like my women a little volatile,” Easton said, and Ford did his best not to react, in spite of the foreign, toxic churning in his gut. Surely that wasn’t jealousy.

It was…indigestion. Yeah. From not eating dinner and then eating chips and drinking a beer. That had to be it.

Easton casually raised, the racket of his chips hitting the table grating Ford’s nerves for some odd reason. “She has a nice ass, too.”

Ford whipped his head toward him and spoke through a clenched jaw. “That’s enough, Reeves.”

Oohs went around the table, along with an “I knew it” from Easton.

Okay, so Ford had also checked out her ass in those yoga pants. He’d done his best to refrain, but then she’d bent over the oven, and…well, he could see hearts and a hint of writing through the thin fabric of her pants, and he indulged for a moment before reminding himself to be a gentleman.

“You know, I forget why I hang out with you pricks.” It was his turn again, and since he had jack and shit, he folded. “Speaking of women, Shep, yours is scarily organized. Does she plan out your time between the sheets? Do you get spanked when you go off book?”

Shep flipped him off. Then a grin split his face. “Guess what we’ve had to do as groomsmen so far?” His grin spread to evil-villain range. “Nothing.”

“Not a damn thing,” Easton echoed.

Addie flinched. “Sorry,” she said to Ford. “I didn’t think about the planning part when I asked you to be my dude of honor.”

“Joke’s on them; I like it.” He draped his arm over her shoulders, and this time, she didn’t shove him away. If she had to endure the planning, he’d be by her side for every overly detailed session.

“Yeah, me, too,” Addie said, and Tucker snort laughed.

“Usually your poker face is much better, babe.”

She kicked him under the table, a gleam lighting her eyes when Tuck grunted and rubbed his shin. “And guess what we get to do tomorrow? Cake tasting at Maisy’s.”

The smug expressions faded one by one.

“As groomsmen, we should also attend and make sure you get the right cake and frosting,” Shep said.

Addie flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. “Sorry, boys. It’s strictly bridesmaids. And my seventy-two-year-old flower girl, since my nonna is impossible to say no to.”

And Maisy and her sister, Ford mentally added. When it came to cake, he was all in. If he got to see Violet again because he was part of the bridal party…?

Well, there were worse ways to spend a Saturday morning.