Page 5 of The Maine Attraction

“The lighthouse? Who?”

“Luck Donovan.” She holds a hand to her chest as if she’s swooning. “He’s dreamy, don’t you think? I wonder what he’s like.”

My heart falls. “I grew up with him. He’s Lindy Donovan’s twin brother. And they have absolutely nothing in common.”

He also hates me.

And he’ll never, ever hire me to restore the lighthouse.

Chapter 4

Luke

“What kind of dog are you looking for?” the woman at the shelter asks.

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “Friendly, of course. Good with people. Beyond that… no idea.”

“I have some dogs in mind for you. Let’s go look.” As she leads me down a hallway, I immediately regret coming here. Despite the colorful paint on the walls and the smiling faces of the employees and volunteers, it makes me sad to see the all the dogs without families. They bark from their kennels for attention as we walk past.

She points out a few different dogs. Each is young, rambunctious, and affectionate. Any of them would make a great pet, but nothing in my bones tells me they’re theone. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a shaggy, black dog who’s alone in a kennel.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

The employee frowns. “Oh, that’s Tripod. I don’t think she’s what you’re looking for.”

A million questions pop into my mind.Why wouldn’t she be the one I’m looking for? Why doesn’t she bounce forward like the other dogs? Why is she so listless?“What kind of name is Tripod?”

“Well, she only has three legs. So…”

I narrow my eyes. “She deserves a better name than that. How would you like to be defined by your shortcomings?”

The employee takes a step back. “No offense intended, Mr. Donovan. I didn’t come up with the name. It’s just what everyone calls her.”

“How’d she lose the leg?”

The employee shrugs. “We think she was probably hit by a car. Someone dropped her off at a local vet’s office. The vet treated her wounds, amputated the leg, vaccinated her, and sent her to us.”

I walk over to the cage and lean down. Tripod doesn’t bother to stand or even raise her head. It’s as though she’s been passed over and rejected so many times that she’s given up hope. But then her tail thumps on the ground.

“Hi, girl,” I say quietly. Her wags harder. “Want to come home with me?”

“She’s really old, Mr. Donovan,” the employee says. “She probably only has as couple of years left.”

“Then I’ll make them the best years of her life.”

I unfasten the latch on the kennel door and Tripod lumbers to her feet. I hold out my hand, inviting her to smell it. She takes a clumsy step in my direction, sniffs my hand, and then nuzzles it with her face. Smiling, I pet her.

Her whole body wiggles with unbridled joy as I place the leash over her head.

“Come on, Tripod.” I shake my head in disgust. “No, that’s not your name. I’ll call you—” I look into her big, brown eyes, searching for the perfect name. “Beauty.”

Her tail whips back and forth happily, and it may be my imagination, but she seems to stand taller, too. “I have a busted leg, too,” I tell her. “We’re two peas in a pod.”

Beauty sits at my feet patiently while I fill out the paperwork to take her home. I lead her to my SUV and realize that she can’t get into it unassisted.

“No worries, Beauty. I’ve got you,” I say, leaning down to lift her into the vehicle. She settles into the seat quickly, like she was born to ride shotgun.

When I slide into the driver’s seat, she shifts her body to rest her head on the console between us. She gazes up at me adoringly with her tongue lolling out. She already looks like a completely different dog than she did just an hour ago. She’s happy and content—as all dogs should be.

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