Anna Stewart - The Bad Boy Of Butterfly Harbor

Luke slid into the driver’s seat, sending her a look she might have withered under had she been a violet under the too-hot sun. “I see you haven’t lost your stubborn streak.”

She ignored the backhanded compliment. “He cleaned up nicely.” Holly shoved her sopping hair out of her eyes and leaned into the dog that had apparently undergone a self-confidence transplant. He nuzzled her shoulder. The hot, stifling air that circled the cab made it feel as if she’d stepped into a sauna. “I take it he’s yours now?”

“So it would seem. Buckle up.” He jerked his chin toward the seat belt as he put the car into Reverse before heading back toward Monarch Lane.

As if her town wasn’t bleak enough, the storm was going to give them a right walloping. The waves began crashing up against the town wall, sending mist and spray over the road ahead of them.

“What’s his name?” Holly hated the silence pulsing between them.

“He hasn’t told me yet,” Luke said with something akin to a smile on his tight lips. “Doc Collins asked the same thing for his new file, but...” He shrugged and clutched the steering wheel tighter as a gust of wind battered the truck. “Would have been nice to have some warning about this storm.”

Huh. Holly settled in her seat, trying to distract herself with petting no-name fur face, but it wasn’t any use. “I talked to my father. About you and the job.”

“Yeah?” He waited for a decrepit 70s throwback van to pass before he turned left on Wasp Tail Road.

“He told me he recommended you.”

“He did. Does it matter?”

Holly pressed her lips into a hard, thin line. “He’s still out of a job. Doesn’t matter who they replaced him with.”

“I’m just icing on the cake, then.” He shifted gears and the truck strained against his order. “I didn’t accept this offer lightly, Holly. I’m well aware of what I left behind and the mistakes I made. Believe me, I didn’t expect anyone to throw a parade when I drove into town. Especially you.”

Holly stared out her window. Until Luke had walked into the diner the other day, she hadn’t realized how much resentment she was still clinging to. She wasn’t ashamed of her feelings—because of Luke she’d nearly lost her father. From her perspective, Luke hadn’t had to witness the aftermath of the accident. He didn’t have to watch Jake suffer through physical therapy, months in the hospital and pain that had followed him every day since. Or watch as her mother got in her car and drove away. “We all make mistakes, Luke.”

“I guess some of us aren’t allowed to learn from them.”

She whipped around to stare at him. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Luke took his eyes off the road and met her gaze. “There’s nothing I can do to change the past, but what happened with your father changed my life.” It was then she saw the mixture of grief and pain in his cool blue eyes. “I need this job, Holly. I hope you can understand that.”

Holly remained silent, mostly because her father had pretty much said the same thing to her. But while Jake Gordon had faith in people’s abilities to change, she knew better. The Luke Saxon she knew was a drinker. Just like Gray. The Luke she remembered was irresponsible, dangerous and unpredictable. Just like Gray. She’d gone down that road before, and she wasn’t one to repeat history, even with a distant acquaintance.

If Holly had her way, there was no reason to have much interaction with Luke from now on. Staying out of rainstorms would be a good start. Staying out of his too-close-for-comfort truck wasn’t a bad idea, either. She could smell the hint of his aftershave. Warm, spicy. Intoxicating.

“Dad’s always been more generous on the forgiveness front than me,” she said to distract—and remind—herself.

“Yeah, well. Then we have something in common after all.” He made a left on Milk Thistle Way as the rain settled into a gentle patter against the windshield. “I’ve never asked for nor expected your forgiveness. How can I when I can’t forgive myself? But at least with me as sheriff, I’ll do my best to respect what Jake’s done during his tenure.” He slammed the gearshift forward and she caught the flinch on his face as if the past were no less painful for him.

They rumbled along the road in silence until he turned and stopped behind Jake’s ancient jeep. Holly stared out at the single-story stone house she’d grown up in. The house that had given her the stability of a loving father and the pain of a mother who had abandoned them. There were times, even as an adult, she couldn’t wait to step foot inside and find herself instantly at home and safe. Not everyone had such stability. She glanced over at Luke and felt a pang of sympathy she wasn’t ready to embrace.

Luke hadn’t had anything close to stable and yet here he sat, with a rescue dog sitting between them as solid and immovable as the past.

“Thank you for the ride.” She hugged her purse against her chest as she shoved open the door. “It was a very sheriff thing to do.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Take care, Holly.”

“Yeah, you, too.” She bit her lip, knowing she should say more. Luke Saxon wasn’t evil. He wasn’t even horrible. He was a man who had made mistakes at an age when stupidity was as commonplace as pimples and overused hair products. She slid out of the cab and gave the dog a final pat. “I’m glad he found you.”

“I found him,” Luke said.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” She closed the door and headed inside, where her father and son—her family—was waiting for her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“THERE WAS A time I never would have trusted Luke Saxon with power tools.” The deep voice that blasted through the residual roar of Luke’s chain saw the next morning had him turning to face a uniformed deputy lounging against the hood of a patrol car. Arms crossed over a pumped-up chest, dark sunglasses obscuring any hint of expression on his lean, narrow face, the officer tilted his chin down. “Normally we like to be notified before someone goes hacking our trees apart.”

Luke set down the chain saw and stretched his arms in front of him, wincing as the scars along his back tightened in protest. “Fletcher Bradley.” Luke had read up on the meager staff he’d be inheriting at the police station and hadn’t been surprised to find the onetime golden boy of Butterfly Harbor High on the list of employees. Fletch had always talked about being a cop. Looks as though he’d gotten what he wanted. Wiping the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt, Luke let out a long breath. “I suppose I should have called in or stopped by the station, but...”

“You probably would have ended up on hold.” Fletch’s grin seemed strained, kicking up the worry Luke had been tamping down when it came to dealing with his coworkers. “Jake’s been on the phone all morning trying to wrangle up some help from neighboring counties. Great way to spend his last days on the job. Entire area got walloped, but Butterfly Harbor isn’t high on their priority list. I hear Mayor Gil is in a right state over the lack of assistance. Is this the branch that tried to take out Holly Campbell?”

“What’s left of it.” Luke looked at the chunked-up ten-foot limb. He hadn’t realized he’d used the branch—and the opportunity—to take out some of his frustrations at being back in his father’s house. Not that he’d minded having to delay tackling the sorry excuse for a living space. He wasn’t convinced the house was livable at all. Even Cash—the name had come to Luke in the middle of the night—wasn’t overly impressed with his musty lodgings, but the dog had claimed his own space on a new floor rug beside the soot-caked fireplace, before tucking in next to the rickety double bed in Luke’s old room. “Thought I’d haul the pieces for firewood, if that’s okay?”