Sanctuary Cove

He spared an irritated glance at the recent—and decidedly obscene—graffiti on the side of his garage as he sprinted to his Yukon, which was parked in front of the veterinary clinic that adjoined his house.

He hadn’t recognized the woman’s name, so she must not have been a local, he decided as he climbed into his truck. “Careless weekend cottager,” he grumbled under his breath and turned onto the highway. The Adirondack region had more than its fair share of them, in his opinion.

* * *

IT DIDN’T OCCUR to Emma to wait in the dry comfort of her vehicle. Thrusting her phone in her pocket, she moved closer to the animal. As he didn’t show any immediate signs of hostility this time, she cautiously knelt beside him. His head jerked toward her and he strained to emit a warning growl. Although a moan was the best he seemed to be able to manage, out of respect for the large white teeth that flashed in the glow of her headlights, Emma slumped back on her heels, putting a little more distance between them.

“It’s okay,” she soothed. “I know it must hurt terribly. Help is on the way.” Uncertain whether it was the words or her tone that caused it, she was gratified that he settled, but his breathing had become even more labored.

“Oh, no, you don’t. Don’t you give up!” she urged. “Hang in there.” Disregarding the veterinarian’s cautionary words, she held her hand out to let him scent it. Through slitted eyelids, the dog stared at her and sniffed her hand listlessly. Appearing to have passed the test, she reached forward slowly to stroke the matted fur of his neck.

He emitted a soft whine and shifted his head a fraction. Although his eyes were dull, he held Emma’s gaze a few moments longer before his eyelids drifted shut.

Continuing to pat him gently, Emma prayed fervently that he would have the strength to hold on until the veterinarian arrived.

And where the heck was the veterinarian?

* * *

THE HEAVY RAIN made the trip longer than Josh had anticipated. Driving in the nasty weather hadn’t improved his disposition. It was nearly twenty minutes from the time he’d hung up the phone to when he spotted the black, late-model, luxury SUV parked on the shoulder of Otter Creek Road. And the woman huddled on the ground in front of it, stroking the animal. A set of choice words raced through his mind. It would be her own fault if she was bitten. Pulling up behind the BMW X5, he grabbed his medical bag and climbed out of his ancient Yukon.

The woman was hunched over the still form of the animal, as if trying to shield him from the worst of the downpour with her own body. There was a sadness about her—evident in her posture, the slope of her shoulders—that tore at his heart. When she glanced up at him with shimmering eyes, huge in her pale face, something shifted inside him.

He hoped he wasn’t too late. That he wouldn’t be deprived of the opportunity to save the animal. For the animal’s sake, as much as the woman’s.

“Josh Whitmore,” he said when he reached her, and extended a hand.

“Emma Meadows,” she responded in a voice so soft, the rain nearly drowned her out. “Thank you for coming.” She briefly placed a chilled and wet hand into his, then inched back to make room for him.

She seemed so fragile, so distraught, but she wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself.

Josh lowered to one knee and noted immediately the dog’s labored breathing. The animal was still alive, as he’d hoped, but he wasn’t certain if that was a blessing or a curse, depending on the extent of his injuries. The dog’s hind leg had sustained the worst of it. He had a closed fracture, meaning the bone was broken but the overlying skin hadn’t been pierced. There was a large laceration on his flank, too. Josh needed to find out if there were additional internal injuries. Those would create the greatest risk. He pulled a syringe and a small vial out of his bag, and administered a sedative.

Giving the drug a chance to take effect, Josh ran his hands along the creature’s torso. He was relieved that he didn’t detect any other obvious signs of trauma. He quickly dressed the cut to stop the bleeding. Next, he splinted the leg temporarily, so he could transport the dog to his clinic without exacerbating the break.

Having done all he could for the dog right now, Josh turned his attention to the woman.

She was soaked. Her long blond hair was plastered to her head despite her hood. He was three inches over six feet, but they were nearly eye-to-eye, kneeling beside each other. Disheveled as she was, he was struck by her beauty. She had large, almond-shaped eyes, the color indiscernible in the muted light, a small, straight nose, sharp, well-angled cheekbones and a generous, wide mouth.

A mouth that at present was frowning at him.

Josh ignored the frown. Not so easily, he also ignored the sudden tug of attraction. He tried to imagine what she’d look like if she smiled, before he reminded himself that slick city girls weren’t his type. Crystal had taught him that lesson well.

Emma interrupted his thoughts. “Is he going to be all right?” Her voice broke on the final word.

Josh felt an unexpected need to comfort, but he couldn’t lie. “His leg’s in bad shape. He’s lost a lot of blood. I’ll know better once I’ve had a chance to properly examine him.”

She nodded slowly. “Is it okay to move him?”

“I don’t have a choice. I’ve immobilized the leg so he should be fine. His best chance is for me to get him to my clinic and ascertain if he has any internal injuries.”

“How can I help?” she asked, as they both rose. She was tall, probably around five-ten, he guessed.

Josh swiped at the water dripping from the brim of his cap and gestured toward his truck. “Open the back, if you don’t mind. The latch is on the bottom. In the center. There’s a blanket in there. Spread it out so I can put him on it.” As she was about to move away, he touched her shoulder. She swung around, her eyes meeting his. He felt that tug again. “Take this, too, please,” he added and handed her his medical bag.

Josh lifted the dog as gently as he could, carried him to his truck and placed him on the blanket. “I’m going to help you, pal. Just hold on a while longer, okay?” Time was of the essence, especially if there were internal injuries. He turned to Emma. “I’ll do what I can,” he assured her.

“I’ll follow you. I know where the clinic is.”

He hadn’t expected that. He’d assumed she would’ve considered her penance done and head home—glad to get out of the storm.

“I won’t get in your way,” she said quickly before he could respond. “I just want to know he’ll be fine.”

Definitely not what he’d expected. Josh pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “All right, but try not to hit anything else,” he said, as he climbed into his truck. He immediately wished he could’ve bitten the harsh words back. He wasn’t a mean-spirited person, but there was something about her that poked at him.

CHAPTER TWO (#u276d3288-08b9-5d3c-9d86-5b07a3deeb7c)

EMMA SCRAMBLED INTO her own vehicle and made a quick U-turn. As she followed the diffused glow of the Yukon’s taillights, Josh’s departing comment registered.

He thought she was responsible for the dog’s injuries! She was more likely to drive off a road and into a tree than hurt an animal.

It didn’t matter what the judgmental veterinarian believed, Emma consoled herself, as long as he saved the dog.

She spent well over an hour in the veterinary clinic’s reception area.

She’d hung her windbreaker on the hook by the door to dry. There was a coffee machine on a counter, and she took the liberty of preparing a pot. She sipped the cooling coffee from a paper cup and listened to the metallic clang of instruments from behind the closed door of the examination room. She could also hear the quiet murmur of the veterinarian’s deep voice, although the words were indistinct. The fact that he was talking to the animal, whether he was heard or not, pleased her. It showed compassion. That emotion was in stark contrast to his harsh treatment of her. Maybe he was one of those people who was good with animals and not with humans, she mused.

When the examination room door finally opened, Emma was on her feet by the time he stepped out.

She observed again—with an uneasy feeling—Josh’s quick perusal of her that she’d noticed at the side of the road when they’d first met. But she also saw the weariness and the unmistakable worry on his face.

He’d removed the baseball cap he’d worn earlier, leaving his dark hair curling just above his collar. He wiped his hands on a damp towel as he approached her, and she saw the towel was streaked with red.

Too much red.

Emma felt her stomach clench. She pressed a hand over it and tried to ignore the blood-soaked towel. She moved forward hesitantly. “How is he?”

“He’s still heavily sedated,” he responded. “I’ll keep him that way overnight, but he’s doing well under the circumstances. I surgically inserted a metal plate to repair the fracture and stitched up the laceration. It looked worse than it was. There’s no muscle damage. There are no signs of internal trauma or bleeding. If I’m right about that, he should recover fully.”

Emma blew out the breath she’d been holding. She took another step toward Josh. “Can I see him?”

“Sure.” He moved to the side, allowing her to walk by him and into the examination room, and followed her. Emma would have sworn she felt his gaze on her and it caused the back of her neck to tingle.

Ignoring the sensation, she noticed the stainless-steel examination table, scattered with instruments, gauze and soiled cloths. Her stomach tightened once more, nausea churned and she quickly looked away. Then she saw the dog through an open door.

He was sleeping peacefully on a thick blanket in the corner of the room, his head pillowed on a folded towel.

Relief washed over her and tears welled in her eyes. She turned away from both the dog and the man while she steadied herself. Once her emotions were under control, she asked, “Can I touch him?”