Page 6 of Surly Sheriff
Driving by, she kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead.
But a glance in the rearview mirror caught him turning back and adjusting the bag on his shoulders.
The bag moved.
She eased off the gas and concentrated on the image in the mirror.
It was an animal draped around his neck.
Slowing further, she checked for traffic. The road was clear in both directions, and she wrenched her Pontiac Firebird’s steering wheel, effecting a one-eighty with a squeal of rubber and a spray of gravel. She passed him by again and executed another wide turn.
Rae pulled up beside the man, pushing her sunglasses onto her head. Her gaze zeroed in on the animal. It was a pale but dirty Labrador. With its eyes closed, its head lay limp against the man’s neck, and its legs dangled over his shoulders.
“What’s wrong with your dog?” she called out, muting Adele’s mezzo soprano.
He walked closer and shook his head. “Not mine. Found him a ways back in a ditch,” he said, his voice a low and rough rumble. “We’d appreciate a lift into Clearbrook. He needs a vet.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Of course,” she said, cutting Esmeralda’s engine. She shoved her door open, and after a quick flick of thelever, pushed the seat forward and down and hopped into the back. “Let’s get him settled.”
Wedging her body in behind the passenger seat, she twisted her torso to face the man and stretched her arm out. “Hey, boy,” she crooned, holding her hand close to the poor hound’s face. The dog made a feeble attempt to sniff, and she risked stroking his head and neck.
The back of her fingers brushed against the hitchhiker’s jaw and the stubble abraded her skin. A shiver of awareness skittered through her, quickening her pulse. She jerked her hand away and shifted her stare from the dog to the man.
Had he noticed?
But the dark lenses of his sunglasses shielded his eyes, and his expression remained impassive.
She averted her eyes, her attention back on the dog. “If you turn, I can lift him from your shoulders.”
“He’s heavy,” he said, his voice gruffer than before.
“I’ll manage,” she replied, adding a spin gesture with her hand.
After a beat, he obeyed, and backed up to the car’s side.
She stroked a hand over the dog’s dirt-caked coat, and she shot a regretful glance at Esmeralda’s pristine backseat.
The dog shivered, and a small whimper escaped him. “Hey, sweet boy. I’m going to move you, and it’s probably going to hurt, but it’s necessary, so please don’t bite me.” She wedged her hands and forearms under the dog’s body and lifted him from the man’s shoulders. For a moment she strained under the weight but found her balance and twisted, bending her knees until she touched the edge of the seat and lowered the dog to the dark grey nylon. He gave a feeble bark, and Rae smoothed a hand over the hound’s shoulder. “We’ll get you some help. Just hold on.”
The stranger cleared his throat, drawing Rae’s attention. She looked up to find him at the rear of the vehicle. And couldn’t help but notice how the khaki green cotton pulled taut across his defined chest.
“May I stow my bag in the trunk?”
Rae averted her eyes —had he caught her ogling him?— and nodded, leaping from Esmeralda. She joined him. And issued a wry laugh at the disarray facing them. “We might need to move stuff around to make some space.”
“No shit.”
“Hey, don’t mock. I’ve been on the road for a while.” She shoved the clothes spilling from her daisy-print duffel back in. The stranger—
She straightened, needing to know his name, and stretched her arm out. “I’m Rae. Short for Raegan. Spelled with an a-e, not e-a.”
He removed his sunglasses, drawing her attention to his eyes. Hazel around the pupil but flaring out to a bluish-grey with a dark rim. Their gazes held for a heart stopping moment while he hooked the arm of the Oakley’s into his neckline.
“Beau.”
His hand engulfed hers, his palm rough, and the same awareness from earlier returned. A thrill of desire wound its way through her body, pooling deep within her core.
She snatched her hand away.Get a grip, Rae.
