Page 2 of Raven

I took it, momentarily forgetting my name.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Uh—Raven Ledger,” I managed. “Just down the beach.” I nodded toward my deck, where my German Shepherd, Mandy, sat like a statue, watching everything.

“She’s huge,” Beatrice said, eyeing Mandy warily. “Is she tied up?”

“No, Mandy doesn’t need a leash.” I whistled. Mandy stood instantly, alert. “She listens.”

I called her over, and Mandy trotted obediently to my side.

Beatrice crouched slightly. “Hello, Mandy. You’re beautiful.” She glanced toward the water. “I wish Mike minded like that.”

“He will,” I said. “Takes time, and consistency.”

She sighed. “Thanks again for the shirt. I should go.” Then, as if realizing how see-through wet cotton could be, she turned and jogged away.

“Nice meeting you, Beatrice,” I called.

She tossed a glance over her shoulder and waved.

I was still smirking when I walked back up to the house. But my gut didn’t quite settle. Mandy hadn’t moved during that whole interaction. Except for once, when her ears perked sharply and her head turned up toward the dunes like she saw or heard something I didn’t.

That’s odd.

* * *

The next morning,I was in the office when I heard River talking about the new neighbor.

“She’s a firefighter,” he said. “Kat met her and invited her to the barbecue this Saturday. Thought we could all have dinner on the beach. She’s bringing her brothers—they all live together, and apparently, she volunteered them to help cook.”

“I met her yesterday,” I said, then told them about her dog Mike and the bikini top incident.

Cyclone laughed. “That retriever? He broke into my house and passed out on my sofa. Their back door was open. No one was home. I walked him back and shut the door.”

I leaned back in my chair, thinking about Beatrice and how Mandy had growled last night around midnight. Something was bothering my dog.

“I love barbecues,” Lori said as she waddled into the office, one hand on her stomach. “When are we having a barbecue?”

“Saturday,” Gage replied. “You can make fruit salad, I’ll make potato salad.”

She smiled. “Deal.”

He kissed her. “I’m starving. Let’s go home.”

“Actually… I’m ready to go to the hospital,” she said, gripping her belly.

Gage stiffened. “What? Are you in labor? Don’t you still have two days?”

“She just said she’s in labor,” I said, already moving. “Go get her bag. I’ll walk her to the car.”

“What bag? Wait—what am I supposed to do?” Gage looked panicked. “I talked myself through this, but I feel fuzzy. What am I going home for?”

“Sweetie,” Lori said, gritting her teeth through a contraction, “you’re getting my damn bag.”

He bolted.

We barely made it to the porch before her water broke.

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