Tempting Fate (26 page)

Or he was an idiot.

“But...you're sitting in poison ivy!”

# # #

Chapter Four

“Wasn't this guy ever a boy scout?” Devin said as they took the steps down the tower two at a time. “Poison Ivy was taught somewhere between tent pitching 101 and how to dig a hole.”

“Ssh. Keep your voice down.” Of course, there was more than an ounce of truth in his statement, Cara thought. Roger was born and raised a city boy. Yes, he was cultured in many ways. He knew all the best restaurants to eat at, the best stores to shop, the best value of anything around. But a nature lover he wasn't and this disaster just proved it.

Devin stopped at the plywood door at the bottom of the tower and swung around to face her. “No one in their right mind would take a nap in a patch of poison ivy.”

Glaring at him, she said, “Who said Roger was in his right mind? He's staying at my mother’s house, isn't he?”

“You're too hard on your mother. She only wants the best for you.”

“Then she could let me have my life.” Cara pushed past him, slamming the makeshift plywood door shut with more force than necessary. The sun and the August heat hit her face with striking force and she had to shield her eyes with the width of her fingers to focus on Roger.

He was now standing, still surrounded by the patches of vines stretching out around the area where he’d been sitting. She groaned, watching him rub his hands on his shorts, then up his arms.

“Are you sure this is poisonous?” he asked, coming toward them.

Devin backed up a few steps. Cara had the urge to do the same, but thought better of it. He may be inept in nature, but Roger wasn't a leper. At least, as long as he didn't touch her.

“Yes, and don't rub anymore. You're sweating and all your pores are open from running. You're only going to get any oil that's on you into your system faster.”

“You should probably dive into the water to get as much of the oils off you,” Devin said.

Roger shook his head. “Nah, I hate ocean water.”

“Then we'd better get back to the house,” Devin suggested. “You're going to need to change and treat your skin.”

“The sooner, the better,” Cara said.

Roger started to scratch his neck, probably more from nerves than irritation, since she knew he wasn't going to get a reaction to the poison ivy this quickly.

They jogged along the causeway and the road until they made it to the stretch of beach connecting a long line of cottages that led to Cara's parents' house. The familiar scent of seaweed baking in the sun and the cry of seagulls always surged her on.

Cara noticed Roger lagging behind them, clutching his side. They managed to make it all the way to Devin’s cottage before they stopped.

“Do you want to rest?” she said, jogging in place.

“Yeah...that sounds...like a good idea,” Roger said, winded.

Devin stopped running and blew out a few deep breaths. “Looks like you've got a side-stitch, Roger. Maybe you should walk the rest of the way to work it out? My cottage is right here. You should probably drink some water. You’re not used to running.”

“No, no. Just give me a few minutes and I'll be tip-top.” Roger plopped onto the sand and bent his body forward.

“It’s not that far to my car. I could drive you.”

He shook his head again.

“Okay, take a load off,” Devin said, walking down toward the shoreline.

To keep her muscles from tightening, Cara walked in paces and moved her arms back and forth. She should have known better than to think Roger could handle a long run his first time out. Although she had to give him credit for the way he'd kept up so far, she should have insisted he stay behind.

While she wasn't use to working out this early in the morning, she had been jogging in the mid-morning for many years. She'd always liked working out before going to the office and meeting with clients. Most of her clients preferred afternoon and evening hours, so it wasn't uncommon for her working day to start somewhere around eleven and end around eight at night.

To look at Roger, no one would ever call him out of shape. He regularly worked out at the gym where they'd met. She'd only gone to that gym when the owner asked her to remodel the lounge and had given her a temporary membership to get the feel of the place. She’d quit going to the gym soon after the remodeling project was complete.

Devin stood by the edge of the tide with his hands propped on his hips, looking out at the ocean. A strange feeling arose in her, pulling her to him. His dark hair was slick with perspiration as was his muscled arms and thighs. His tank top clung to him, leaving nothing for the imagination. She wondered what it would feel like to run her flat palms over the ridges of his back, and press her cheek against his rock hard chest.

She shook her head to break the thought, wondering where it had come from.

Dragging in a deep breath of salted sea air, she walked toward the water's edge as if she were pulled by some invisible magnet. Devin turned to look at her as she drew closer.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” she said.

“I've forgotten just how much,” he said, almost in a whisper.

Devin turned his sights back to the incoming tide. “How's he doing?”

“Roger's not much on endurance.”

“You sound like you're talking from experience. Is everything okay? You know, with the-”

She stuck out her chin, making sure to keep her voice low as she spoke. “I know exactly what you're referring to and you know that's not how I meant it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Everything okay?”

“It's...”

“Fine?”

“Yes, it's...oh, never mind.”

A low rumbling chuckle escaped him. “I'd shoot myself if a woman ever said it like that about me.”

“I doubt anyone ever has.” Cara thought she said it under her breath, but when he turned to her and gave her a slow smile, one that almost caused her to lose her equilibrium, she knew she'd been caught. She touched her neck, feeling the heat of a blush spread up her cheeks.

A dog barked in the distance--it was more of a whine--and Devin snapped his head up. She turned and looked behind them to find a dog on the edge of the beach. She’d seen the dog before on several occasions and approached him, only to have him run away frightened. It was clear by the way the dog was hobbling that he was injured.

Roger pulled himself up from the sand and they all headed toward the dog. As they approached, the dog crouched down and peered up at them. He was panting heavily, favoring his back paw. The poor thing looked as if he were put through the ringer and hung out to bake in the hot sun.

As they eased themselves closer, the dog cowered away. But he was clearly in no condition to run like he had before. Devin crouched down on the ground and held out his hand, coaxing the animal toward him. “Come here, boy,” he whispered. The deep timbre of his voice was lulling as he continued to inch his way forward. Eventually, he was able to win the animal’s trust.

Cara edged closer, but Roger caught her arms and held her back. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Stay away from it. For God's sake, it might be rabid.” Roger's expression was one of disgust.

She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “He's not acting crazy. He's hurt.”

“He is a little mangy and his fur is matted on the side.” Devin's voice was low and soothing as touched the dog’s fur. In turn, the dog seemed to know he had nothing to fear with Devin. “It looks like there might be dried blood on his coat.”

Cara's heart dropped. “Do you think he was hit by a car?”

Devin took his attention away from the dog for the first time and looked back at her. “Maybe.”

“I thought most towns had leash laws,” Roger commented, looking around as if he were looking for a possible owner.

“He might be a stray.” Devin gently applied pressure to the dog’s back and worked his way down to the back paws. When he reached the injured leg, the animal yelped. Cara saw him flinch as well, as though it pained him to cause any further suffering.

“Not for nothing, Cara, but if this is a stray, we should probably call the animal rescue league. It's their problem, not ours.”

With her emotions on edge, she glared at Roger. Yes, he was a very practical person, but she couldn't believe he'd be so heartless as to pass off an injured animal without having any feelings. This was a side of him she'd never seen before. Maybe she had and had chosen to ignore it all this time. It had her wondering how much of Roger she'd ignored in the eighteen months they'd been together.

Roger's expression softened, as if he could read her thoughts. “I know you feel bad, but we should leave it to the professionals to handle. It's not our problem.”

Devin looked up at them. His jaw was tight and his face drawn. “That may be true, but I'm making it mine.”

Careful wrapping his arms under the dog’s chest and hind leg, he scooped up the dog, taking care not to injure the other leg any further.

Cara's breath caught in her throat when the dog began to whine. “I can drive you to the veterinarian, if you want.”

Devin took each painstaking step in the stand as if he were holding a bomb about to explode. “No, that's okay. I'll take care of him. You’ve got Roger to take care of.”

An hour later, Roger was waist deep in an oatmeal bath and Cara sat in a wicker chair on the back porch reading the morning paper. As much as she tried, she still couldn't keep her mind off the dog. She’d read the same page three times and still had no idea what the article was about.

Giving in to defeat, she tossed the paper on the table in frustration. Who was she kidding? It wasn't just the dog, it was the love and care Devin took in caring for it that she couldn't forget.

As she stood, the back of her thighs clung to the white wicker seat. Everything was hot and sticky and the moisture filled air was heavy, making it hard to breath. She ran her fingers down the deep depressions in her skin, cursing this breezeless heat wave baking the coast. Maybe she’d take a swim to cool off.

As she walked to the kitchen to fetch a refill of lemonade, she twisted her unruly hair into a pony tail at the top of her head.

This is useless, she thought, pulling at the refrigerator door. After all this time, how could she doubt her relationship with Roger? Devin had been in town no more than twenty-four hours and already she felt her life was in a tailspin.

But of course, that's exactly what her mother wanted. She was sure Ruthie had engineered this whole thing with Devin as a way to drive her and Roger apart. No, her mother was not an ill-hearted woman. Quite the contrary. But her name was firmly placed next to meddlesome and doting in the dictionary.

She only wished her mother's obsessive need to throw her and Devin together would end, too.

After pouring a fresh glass of lemonade, Cara placed the pitcher back in the refrigerator, lingering a second or two longer to let the cool air from the fridge bathe her hot skin. She noticed the light of the answering machine on the counter was blinking as she shut the door. Absentmindedly she pushed the button and listened to the response after the beep.

“Ruthie? It's me, Penny Brunelle. I hope I've caught you before you ran out the door. I'm going to be a little late for our appointment, but I can still meet you at my shop. If you have a chance, check with Manny to see if he's free to perform the ceremony. I've cleared it with Father Walker and he agreed it was a nice idea to keep it all in the family. See you at ten.”

Cara drummed the counter with her fingers as the beep indicating the end of the message sounded. This was all too strange. Devin was back in Westport. Now Manny was coming home to perform a ceremony? What ceremony? And why was her mother meeting with a wedding consultant?

* * *

Devin stood in the examining room of the animal hospital, patting his canine friend in an attempt to keep him calm. He was glad the vet wasn't busy and was able to see him on such short notice. They'd just taken x-rays and he was waiting for the veterinarian to come and give him the results.

The door opened and a salt and pepper-haired woman in a white lab coat walked into the small examination room, holding an x-ray file in her hand. “Mr. Michaels, I'm Dr. Schroeder.” She clipped the x-ray to the panel on the wall and switched the light on.

“How bad is he?” Devin asked, looking at the screen, not really sure what he was looking for.

She exhaled. “As we suspected with the initial examination, there was a break in his hind leg and a slight fracture to his pelvis. This type of injury is typical with being hit by a car.”

Devin cursed under his breath with his gut reaction that someone just left the dog to die. Then realizing the company he was in, he gave an apologetic look. “He may have run away before anyone could help him.”

“Unfortunately, that happens a lot. He’s actually very lucky. His injury isn't life threatening, but does require some care. The bone is already starting to heal, but unless it is set correctly, the dog won't walk properly.”

She flicked off the light on the panel and stood by the table. Leaning over, she felt the injured paw, much to the dog's protest. Her touch was nurturing.

“You mentioned the dog is a stray.”

“I think so. We found him on the beach.”

“From the condition of his fur and his weight, I'd say you're right.” She reached out and began stroking the dog’s fur. “He’s very lucky you found him. Being dehydrated, he wouldn’t have lasted very much longer.”

“What will happen to him now?”

She took a deep breath and gave a little shrug. “That depends on you. Treatment can be costly, and he is a stray. If you're willing to take on the responsibility, we can reset his leg, clean him up a little and release him to you in a day or two.” Her face was grim, as though she didn't expect him to agree.

Devin stroked the dog behind the ears. “And if I don't take him?”

“Then it's our responsibility to decide at that point.” She didn't elaborate beyond that, but he got the vague feeling it meant the future for his new canine friend was grim.

As much as he hated to admit it, a few days ago he would've been more than willing to cut off any emotional connection with the situation. That's what he'd come to.