Brenda Novak - When Summer Comes

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m guessing he’s our age. Why?”

“Just curious.” He turned down the radio. “What does he look like?”

He was handsome. There was no question about that. But Kyle wouldn’t want to hear it. Not in his current frame of mind. He had to be going through a difficult period if he was acting so possessive of her. “He’s about six-two, has blond hair slightly on the long side in front, hazel eyes and a few military tattoos. What does it matter?”

“I’m wondering if attraction is part of whatever you’re feeling about him.”

Another comment that seemed motivated by jealousy. She ignored it. “Can you pull over?”

“Here?”

“At that house we just passed.” She indicated the rental.

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to ask if anyone’s seen a motorcycle on the side of the road.”

“Who lives here?” he asked as he backed up.

“According to Godfrey, a couple of guys who’ve come to Whiskey Creek to do some prospecting for the summer.”

“You’ll just go up and knock?”

“Why not?”

“Because it seems to me that we’ve done enough.”

She covered a yawn. The night was catching up with her. These days she didn’t have a lot of strength to begin with. “This won’t take long.”

Kyle pulled into the driveway and let the engine idle.

Before leaving the safety of the truck, Callie whistled, just in case. When no dogs came running, she climbed out and approached the dilapidated porch.

The blinds were down, so she couldn’t see inside. Listening for sounds of movement, she knocked.

No one came to the door.

They were gone, as she’d guessed. She was on her way around back when Kyle called out to her.

“Callie, come on! No one’s home.”

She raised a finger to signal that she’d be just another second. She wanted to see if these men might have taken Levi’s bike and rolled it out of sight. But she found no sign of that. She even checked in the detached, one-car garage.

Nothing, except the dredging machine they must have purchased from G. and buckets upon buckets of sediment and rock.

Disappointed, she was walking back when she spotted some bloody paw prints leading to the mudroom.

Aha! She’d found the offending dogs, after all—or where the offending dogs lived.

Eager to tell Kyle that she’d accomplished something, she almost missed the dirty, chewed-up backpack partially hidden by bushes. It appeared to be military issue, which made her think it had to be the one Levi lost when he dropped his bike.

“Are you coming?” Kyle called.

After scooping it up, she returned to the truck and tossed it in the bed. “Let’s go.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her as she got in. “Did you just steal that?”

“I’m guessing it belongs to Levi.”

“But you don’t know.”

“We’ll see soon enough. I can always return it.”

* * *

The second Levi joined them in the living room Kyle could see that he had indeed suffered a traumatic dog attack. He had stitches in both arms, even in one leg. But Kyle couldn’t feel much sympathy. He was too worried about the threat this man might pose to Callie. Judging by the wariness in Levi’s eyes, those bites weren’t the only injuries he’d ever sustained. Kyle was willing to bet he carried some significant battle scars on the inside, too.

Callie had said he’d been in the military. Maybe he’d seen some action. Kyle supposed he could be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. He wouldn’t be the first vet to struggle with what he’d been through.

“Levi, this is Kyle Houseman.” Callie gestured between them.

Lean but sinewy, Levi offered his hand. He was an inch or two taller than Kyle and, Kyle guessed, two or three years younger. He seemed brooding, watchful and a bit standoffish, even while wearing Callie’s bathrobe, which should’ve made him look ridiculous. Instead, the pink terry cloth created a stark contrast between her size and his, her optimism and innocence and the cynicism of a jaded warrior. It also reminded Kyle of the wolf donning Grandma’s mobcap in Little Red Riding Hood.

Would he have to play the part of the woodcutter?

“Nice robe,” he said.

Levi lowered his hand when Kyle didn’t accept it, but he didn’t scramble to explain or apologize, as most guys who were so out of place probably would. “Would you rather I went without it?”

Kyle wasn’t pleased with Mr. McCloud’s response. But he was the one who’d set the tone. What had evolved between him and Callie put Kyle in a difficult situation. Their relationship was so complicated that he often lay awake at night, trying to figure out what should happen now that they’d slept together. “I’m wondering where your clothes are.”

Levi jerked his head in Callie’s direction. “Ask your friend.”

“They were torn and bloody!” Obviously rattled by what had already been said, Callie could hardly find her voice. “I’m washing them.”

Kyle grinned as if he’d been joking the whole time. “Right. Of course. Then it’s a good thing that robe fits as well as it does.”

A muscle flexed in Levi’s cheek. “I’m not after your woman, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His blatant honesty took Kyle off guard. “She’s not my woman. But I care about her. I want to be clear on that.” He also wanted to put McCloud on notice that she wasn’t as defenseless as it might seem, even though she was keeping Rifle outside in deference to what her guest had been through.

“All I want is my bike.” At that point, Levi turned to Callie. “Did you find it?”

When she shot him a dirty look, Kyle knew she wasn’t pleased with how he’d handled the situation.

“No. Sorry to say I didn’t,” she told Levi. “We’ll have to call the police, see if they impounded it.”

“But you brought my backpack.”

She stepped out of the way so he could get to the tattered canvas pack Kyle had set inside the front door. “Yes. It was at the house closest to where you said you were attacked. But it’s filthy. I think the dogs took out their residual anger on what you left behind.”

While bending to pick up his belongings, McCloud glanced at them from beneath the hank of blond hair hanging in his eyes and Kyle was again struck by the fact that this was not your typical vagrant. He was too handsome, too young—and he seemed very capable.

Kyle could only hope he wasn’t capable of violence.

“I thought it had to be a neighbor’s dogs,” Levi said. “I couldn’t have walked too far from where it happened.”

“Those dogs don’t belong to my neighbor, exactly,” Callie said. “They belong to whoever is temporarily staying in that house. Godfrey told me two guys are renting it. He said they have pit bulls.”

“That explains a lot—about size and strength.”

“You certainly weren’t dealing with poodles,” she said.

The way she seemed to be pandering to him bothered Kyle.

“Did you see them?” Levi asked her.

“I didn’t. But I discovered some bloody paw prints. That’s what tipped me off.”

There was blood on the bag, too. Kyle had ascertained that much when he carried it in. “Did you injure either of the dogs?” he asked.

Levi shrugged. “I tried. It was me or them.” He unzipped his pack and pulled out a pair of jeans and a

T-shirt. “Good news, Mr. Houseman.” He held them up. “I can get out of your girlfriend’s robe.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” Callie’s words reiterated what Kyle had already said, but Levi ignored them. When he turned, presumably to go change, she stopped him. “Why put those clothes on over your stitches? You’ll just get ointment on them, and that stuff won’t come out easily. You need to eat and go back to bed. You can dress later.”