The Bad Boy Of Butterfly Harbor

“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 (#ulink_e8ef29ff-a34d-596f-ab28-363b8f9115a4)

“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?”

“More than,” Fletcher said.

“How’d you know I was out here anyway?” Luke didn’t have to look far for his answer. A shadowy figure shifted behind lace curtains in a nearby house. “Mrs. Ellison?”

“She called Myra Standing, who got Oscar to walk over to the station to tell us someone was out here making a ruckus with his chain saw. I think your name might have gotten thrown in there somewhere as a minor epithet.” Fletcher pulled off his glasses and tossed them through the open window of his squad car. “You gotta know coming back here was going to be like kicking up a hornet’s nest of gossip. You can’t blow your nose without someone announcing it in the paper.”

“The sheriff’s desk might not be mine till Monday, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t work that needs doing. But yeah.”

“Tongues are definitely wagging. Most people aren’t sure how to feel about you replacing Jake.”

“You one of those people?” Luke needed to know sooner than later what he’d be facing when it came to his own men.

“Haven’t decided yet,” Fletcher said. “You want some help loading up your truck?”

“How do you know I have a truck?”

All six foot three of Fletch straightened with the cockiness Luke remembered from their high school days. “It’s my job to know.”

Between the two of them it didn’t take long to get the wood taken care of and the branches curbside for the service that would be around in a few days’ time.

“What’s next on your agenda?” Fletcher asked as he slammed the truck bed closed and circled around to the cab. Cash woofed through the open window. “Hey, he looks pretty good for what Doc Collins said he’d been through. Hey, boy. Any idea yet as to who tied him up?”

The internet had nothing on Butterfly Harbor when it came to the information superhighway. After all his years away, he would have to readjust to the small-town rumor mill...and fast.

“No, but I’ll be looking. I saw some other downed trees on my drive over here. Thought I’d go check them out. That okay with you, Deputy?”

“Have at it.” Fletcher nodded. “Come by the station for lunch when you’re done.”

Luke shook his head. “Not my place. Not yet.” The last thing he wanted to do was shove out Jake any faster than he was already being pushed.

“You made it your place by taking care of business.” Fletch headed to his car, gestured to Mrs. Ellison, who had emerged from her front door to stand watching them from her porch, with her laser-beam eyes.

Luke gave a quick wave and hauled himself into the truck before she could ignore him. He looked at Cash. “Well, boy. Guess we’re in this for the long term, huh?”

“Woof.”

“My sentiments exactly. Now let’s see what else is out there waiting for us.”

* * *

“SIMON, STOP STRAGGLING and get a move on.” Holly hurried down Monarch Lane to Stories Unbound, Butterfly Harbor’s independent bookstore. Nose down, she checked her phone calendar. She had fewer than forty-five minutes before Twyla had to leave for a dentist appointment, so getting Simon loaded up with a new stack of books was her first priority.

The hours at the diner were beginning to close in on her, but she didn’t have anyone but herself to blame. “Heads up, Holly!”

“Mom!” Simon gripped the back of her jeans with his hand. “Watch out!”

The enormous piece of plywood crossing her path stopped and lowered as Luke’s surprised face popped up on the other side. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t see you.”

“Then, who—” Holly craned her neck forward and saw Harvey Mills, hardware store proprietor, rushing toward them, his stubby legs tested by the barrel of a belly he carried.

“Everything okay?” Harvey panted as he reached them. “I thought Luke would wait for some help before loading up his truck.”

“What’s going on?” Holly reached behind her to draw Simon against her side. The sheen of sweat covering Luke’s face and the way his hair fell over his startling blue eyes made her stomach flip. Nothing like a bout of activity to remind a woman of a strong, healthy man.

“Couple of blown-out windows thanks to the storm.” Luke hefted the plywood into his arms and hauled it the remaining feet to his truck. “Heard your dad was having problems getting repair help so I thought I’d pitch in. Hi, Simon.”

“Hi.” Holly felt Simon’s grip on her tighten.

“I’ll just...” Harvey gestured behind him, bulging eyes darting between Holly and Luke as if he expected one of them to combust at any minute. “I’ll send Chet out with the dolly and the last of the wood.” He scrambled off.

“Is this your dog?” Simon trailed after Luke and rose up on tiptoe to peer into the truck. Cash shifted seats and stuck his head out of the open driver’s-side window.

“Careful, Simon,” Holly warned. Given Simon’s penchant for hugging most animals, he’d have no qualms about throwing his arms around this one.

“I know, Mom.” She could all but see him rolling his eyes. “What’s his name?” He curled his fingers over the window edge.

“Cash,” Luke said with a grunt as he slid the plywood on top of the others in the truck bed. “Short for Cassius. After Cassius Clay.”

“The boxer?” Holly asked, and her heart twisted as Cash gave Simon’s hand a solid lick. Her son’s smile widened.

Luke nodded. “They’re both fighters. Seemed fitting. I see you weathered the rest of the storm okay.”

“Yeah.” She still had difficulty reconciling the Luke she knew years ago with the man who had returned. The edge was still there, along with the promise of danger, although it was tempered by maturity and control. “Well.” She cleared her throat. “We’re heading to the bookstore, so...”