Playing the Playboy (12 page)

It was Persephone, he realized, when they both turned toward the barking.

“She’s scared,” Laurel said, pushing him out of the way so she could walk toward the dog.

Andrew came with her, and they saw Persephone standing on the beach, barking frantically and pointed away from them.

“There’s Circe,” Andrew said, seeing the other dog farther away. She was also barking, also sounding scared.

“Where’s Theo?” Laurel said, scouring the beach for the third dog. “Theo! Theo!” The last call was loud and authoritative, and it echoed down the length of the beach.

But Theo didn’t come back.

The fear in Laurel’s voice as she called for her dog quenched Andrew’s arousal quite effectively.

“I’m sure he’s just wandered off,” he said, trying to sound casual in an attempt to alleviate her anxiety.

She shook her head. “If he heard me, he’d come back. He must be too far away.”

“Do you think he chased a bird?”

“Probably.”

“Then we’ll go find him.” He put a hand on her back, nudging her forward, more worried for her than he was for the dog. Theo was smart, strong, and well-trained. He wasn’t likely to get in any trouble.

“What if he ran into the road?” Laurel whispered.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Can Persephone and Circe follow his trail?”

“Yeah.” She looked better now that she had a plan of action. When they reached the other dogs, she called, “Go find Theo. Where’s Theo?”

The two dogs barked in response, ran a couple of circles, and then took off down the beach.

The beach quickly tapered off into the cliff surrounding the caldera. Just before they ran out of beach entirely, the dogs scrabbled up an incline and started running again.

Andrew climbed up and then extended a hand down to help Laurel. They followed the dogs at a quick pace through the rocky landscape and scrubby plants—not ideal for walking—for more than a mile.

Laurel called the dogs back whenever they were getting too far ahead, and the dogs ran circles, their noses to the ground, until Andrew and Laurel caught up.

They didn’t talk, and occasionally Laurel would start to run. But Andrew kept a hand on her arm to slow her down. If her back went out again, this far from the inn, they would really be in trouble.

“Look!” Laurel said at last, gesturing toward the horizon. “There he is.”

Andrew saw the silhouette of the German Shepherd, his nose pointing out toward the sea. The dog appeared to be poised on the end of the cliff.

Andrew’s heart lurched when he saw a sea bird, maybe even the one Theo had been chasing all this way, swoop down from a height and fly not far from where the dog was standing, just off the edge of the cliff.

“Theo, no!” he called out loudly, his chest clenching with sudden panic.

At exactly the same time, Laurel screamed, “No!”

It was too late. The dog had already leapt for the bird.

For a moment, it looked like he’d keep his footing as he landed, his paws working frantically on the rocky edge.

He couldn’t, though. Andrew and Laurel stood frozen as the dog disappeared over the side of the cliff.

A few seconds after the sight processed, Andrew broke into a dead run, vaguely aware that Laurel was just behind him. Circe and Persephone were at the edge now too, peering down for Theo.

“Back,” he ordered them sharply. “Back.”

They backed away from the cliff immediately, either recognizing the word or just responding to the authority in his voice.

“Theo,” Laurel choked, reaching the edge of the cliff now and looking over. She gasped frantically, and her face dripped with perspiration.

In about the same condition, Andrew leaned over with her, dreading what he would see.

He let out a thick exhale when he realized it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.

Like most of the Santorini cliffs, this one didn’t descend straight into the sea in a vertical drop. It dropped in stages and leveled off in a narrow outcropping several feet down.

That was where Theo had landed. He’d seen them now and was whimpering and trying to scramble up the steep rock face back toward the top.

He collapsed every time he put weight on his back legs.

“He hurt his leg.” Laurel knelt onto the ground and leaned down toward him. “Good boy, Theo. I’ll get you. Good boy.”

Responding to her voice, the dog heaved himself up again and attempted another clumsy climb. He got farther this time before his leg gave out, and he slid backward so fast Andrew was afraid he’d keep sliding over the narrow ledge.

“No, stay, Theo,” he said sharply, when the dog managed to stabilize. “Stay.”

Laurel had made a sobbing noise when Theo started to slide back, but her voice was controlled as she said, “You stay, boy. Good boy. I’ll come get you.”

Then she started to climb down the side of the cliff.

Andrew managed to process her intention just in time. He reached down to grab her by the waist. “Don’t be ridiculous, Laurel. You can’t go down after him.”

“Yes, I can,” she insisted, never looking away from Theo. Streaks of tears were drying on her face. “He’s my dog. I have to get him.”

“He’s too heavy for you, and your back is still injured. You’ll never be able to do it.” Andrew wiped his face with his forearm so the sweat wouldn’t drip into his eyes.

“Yes, I can. Let go of me! I’m not going to leave him there to die.” She was fighting his grip on her now.

Andrew almost choked on his surprise and impatience. “Damn it, Laurel. Do you think I’m just going to leave him there? Let me do it.” He tightened his hands on her shoulders and held her gaze. “Let me do it for you.”

She stared at him with wide, terrified eyes—and he couldn’t quite understand what she was thinking.

Then she whispered, “Please help him.”

Since his forearm wasn’t working, Andrew wiped his face with his shirt, sizing up the situation as quickly as he could.

He thought it wouldn’t be particularly dangerous for him, since the ledge was wide enough to stand on safely and the jagged surface of the cliff would be easy to climb. The cliff leveled off again in another outcropping several feet below the one the dog was trapped on, so even if Andrew slipped, the fall wasn’t going to kill him.

“Be careful,” Laurel whispered as he started to lower himself down.

Ridiculously, Andrew was encouraged that, this time, she seemed to be worried about him rather than just the dog.

“Stay,” Laurel ordered, when Theo started to get up again as Andrew’s feet found the solid rock of the ledge.

He knelt down next to the dog and felt the furry body quickly. A sharp whimper alerted him that the back right leg was the one injured. Nothing else seemed to be hurt.

“It’s just his leg,” he told Laurel, managing to sound confident despite his breathlessness. “He’ll be fine. This is going to be a little tricky. If I lift him up to you, do you think you can take him?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“You better sit down rather than leaning over, or lifting him will hurt your back. He’s pretty heavy.”

She did as he suggested, and he carefully leaned over to pick up the dog.

Theo squealed in pain when Andrew accidentally put too much pressure on the injured leg.

The sound of the dog’s pain was sickening, and Andrew had to pause momentarily to recover. Then he tried again, this time avoiding the injured leg.

“Be still,” he said, when Theo thrashed in his arms in what was obviously an attempt to help climb.

When the dog grew still again, he adjusted his hold and lifted him higher, until he was on the level of Laurel’s arms, which were reaching out to take the dog.

“If you grab his leg and it hurts him, you’ll have to just ignore it. It’s more important to get him up,” he said, effort evident in his voice despite his attempt to keep it level. His arm muscles strained as he lifted the dog higher than was easily accomplished.

Andrew was worried about Laurel. He knew she was strong, but this was a lot of weight for her to take in this position. She looked so fragile and anxious as she reached out.

She didn’t hesitate, though. Her legs hung over the side as she sat on the edge, so she was able to use her lap for leverage as she took the dog’s full weight in her arms.

Then she seemed to be trapped in her position, not quite strong enough to heave the dog up far enough to turn her body or shift Theo onto the ground beside her.

“Andrew,” she mumbled, hugging the dog to her as he started to wriggle. “I’m going to drop him. Help.” She was exerting so much effort to hold him she shook with it.

Andrew climbed up the side as quickly as he could, too quickly to be careful. He scraped up both knees on the rocks and got a jagged cut on his forearm from a sharp protruding edge.

He was up in just a few seconds, though. Then he was taking the dog gently from her arms.

Laurel gave a little sob of relief and collapsed back onto the dirt. She reached over to stroke Theo as Andrew placed him gently on the ground beside her.

“It’s just his leg,” Andrew told her. “We should get him home quickly. It might be broken, or he might have torn a ligament or something, but we’ll need to get it treated.”

“How can we get him home?” Laurel asked, pulling herself up to her feet. Her eyes focused on his face almost trustingly, as if she genuinely believed he would have an answer. “He can’t walk, and I don’t think we can get a car here.”

Andrew was used to being envied. He was used to being desired, indulged, and catered to. And he was used to being dismissed as useless.

He wasn’t used to being trusted.

“I’ll carry him,” he said.

Andrew did carry him—the whole two miles back to the inn. It wasn’t easy going, since the dog was big and ungainly and not inclined to lie limply as he was held. In fact, once, Andrew had to stop and rest, since Theo was wriggling out of his arms.

By the time they finally made it to the inn, Andrew was soaked through with sweat and his chest burned each time he breathed. His arms were trembling with exhaustion.

Hector called a neighbor, a retired doctor who evidently functioned as a veterinarian for a lot of the locals. Shortly afterwards the man arrived and, after carefully inspecting Theo’s leg, said no bones were broken. He must have torn a ligament, and there was nothing to do for that but let it heal. Theo should do as little walking as possible for at least a month.

Laurel was so intent on Theo and then so focused on the herbs the neighbor and Agatha were discussing that would best treat the pain that she seemed to have forgotten about Andrew. So, once he knew Theo would be all right, Andrew went back to his room.

He needed to shower and bandage his knees and arms. Instead he just sat down on the side of his bed.

His lungs still ached slightly from his effort earlier. Blood from the scrapes on his knees was drying in rivulets down his legs. He tasted something faintly bitter in his mouth. He knew it was the aftermath of adrenalin overload.

He needed to drink a lot of water, take a shower, and then try to exercise to work off the lingering effects.

But he couldn’t seem to move.

He heard a knock on his door and made a noise that must have sounded like permission to enter.

Laurel came in. She’d washed her face and hands but hadn’t yet changed clothes. She was a mess, with dirt on her legs and dress and her hair tangled around her face. She carried a first aid kit.

“Are you all right?” Her voice was strangely gentle.

He nodded and managed to make his voice work. “How’s Theo?”

“He’s fine. He’s sleeping. Are you sure you’re all right?” She peered at him closely.

He nodded again and made himself smile. He wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with him, but there was no sense in embarrassing himself. “Yeah. I’m just fine.”

She set the first aid kit down at his feet and then went into the bathroom. She came back with a wet washcloth.

Then she knelt on the floor and started to wipe the blood off his legs.

“You don’t have to do that,” Andrew said, when he realized what she was doing.

“Why shouldn’t I?” She was quiet, strangely mild, and her hands were very gentle as she cleaned up his knees and then wiped the cuts with antiseptic wash.

Andrew felt the weird heaviness in his belly intensify as he watched her tend him.

When she finished, she lifted herself higher on her knees and took his right arm in both of her hands. She wiped up the blood and applied antiseptic to that cut too.

She wasn’t looking at his face. She focused intently on her task. She seemed different somehow—hesitant, almost uncertain.

Andrew wanted to say something light and amusing to cut the tension, but, for the first time in his life, he couldn’t think of anything to say. He just sat there in silence and watched her, the clench in his stomach spreading up to his chest, to his heart.

She got back up without speaking and went into the bathroom again. She came out with another wet washcloth.

She sat on the bed next to him and started to wipe his face.

He sucked in his breath at the feel of the cool, wet cloth against his skin.

“Thank you,” she said at last, her dark lashes lowered against her skin. She slid the washcloth down to his throat, and it felt deliciously cool and clean.

“It was nothing,” he managed to say.

“It wasn’t nothing. You saved Theo. It…it meant everything to me.”

“Well, what did you think I would do?” Since he felt so weirdly unsettled, his tone came across as more grumpy than he’d intended. “I like Theo. He’s a good dog. And, even if he wasn’t, do you really think I’m the kind of man who would just let a poor dog die?”