A Tender Touch

“So…you brought him here to get him back in tiptop shape?”

Clay nodded, glanced out the big window off to the side. “I thought the sand and water might be good for him. We can run the beach, he can climb the dunes and bluffs. And Stone says we can use the pool at Hidden Hills so Samson can swim to improve his range of motion. We’re staying out there, watching the place while Stone is away on his honeymoon.”

“I’d also suggest a Swiss ball and some dancing,” Freddie said with a grin aimed toward the dog.

Clay smiled, too, relaxing again. “Okay. I’ll get Samson a Swiss ball and…I’ll take you dancing.”

“Not me,” she replied, turning all business again by refusing to look at Clay. “Samson needs to dance.”

“Oh.” Clay hoped he wasn’t blushing—he hadn’t done this much foot-in-the-mouth since high school. But he pressed on, determined in spite of his stupidity. “Well, Doc, how come he gets to dance and I don’t?”

“You can dance with him,” she replied. “Here, I’ll show you.” She motioned for Samson to hop off the table, then held her hands in the air. “C’mon, boy.”

At least Samson wasn’t stupid. He lifted up his two front legs, his big tongue flopping in an excited grin.

“The trick is,” Freddie said as she gently held Samson’s paws, “to make him use his legs, to rebuild the muscles. Even though his front thigh and hip were damaged, he needs to stay strong all over. So we dance.”

With that, she moved Samson around the small examining room, the dog’s thick hind claws tapping on the clean linoleum floor while Freddie’s sneakers squeaked in an answering rhythm. “That’s it. See, that’s not so bad, is it?”

Clay stood back, amazed at how relaxed his dog was with this woman. Why couldn’t he relax like that, instead of making dumb comments?

“You’re a very good dancer,” Freddie told Samson. The dog glanced around at Clay, as if to say “she likes me better than she does you.”

Clay could see that without the dog pointing it out.

Fredrica Hayes was a nice, accommodating veterinarian, a woman who obviously had a way with animals. She’d be great with Samson’s extended therapy and healing.

But she obviously didn’t like men as much as she liked animals. Or maybe it was just him, Clay reasoned.

Maybe she just didn’t like him.

Which was a shame.

He could use some healing, too.

Chapter Three

“I like him, but I don’t date cops.”

Freddie saw the meaningful looks pass between the group of women she was having lunch with at Ana’s. She wished she hadn’t blurted that bit of information, but it was so nice to have other women with whom to share, she’d just relaxed her guard too much and let it slip. Living here on the island did that to a person. The whole town was laid-back and unhurried, carefree and pleasant. All the things she’d missed so much during her nine years of a hectic, chaotic marriage. A marriage that had sadly ended in tragedy and violence, because of her husband’s lifestyle.

“Why don’t you date cops?” Tina asked with wide-eyed interest. “I mean, yum-yum. You know, a man in uniform.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte added, her grin widening. “And Clay Dempsey is just adorable. In uniform, or in a tux. Did you see him at the wedding reception? He was so sweet, looking so nervous when he made the toast. Just a cutie-pie.”

Ana smiled over at her co-workers. “Don’t you two have napkins to fold or something?”

“Nope,” Tina said, shaking her head. “You do give us a lunch break, remember? And according to my watch, we have ten minutes left.” To emphasize that point, she popped another miniature chicken-salad puff pastry into her mouth.

Jackie, Ana’s capable bookkeeper and hostess, came out onto the porch where they all sat. “Just booked us another one of those romantic Saturday-night private dinners, boss. What’d I miss?”

“Freddie doesn’t date cops,” Tina explained, rolling her brown eyes. “Such a shame.”

“Really?” Jackie sank down on one of the bistro chairs. It was midafternoon, so the tearoom was empty for now. A cool breeze ruffled the red geraniums filling several pots on the long, inviting front porch where they had gathered. “Hey, Clay Dempsey is a cop, right?”

“Right,” Charlotte said, nodding. “And he’s been flirting with Freddie.”

“I didn’t say he’s been flirting,” Freddie responded, wishing again she’d never brought Clay Dempsey’s name into the conversation. “I was just telling Ana that he’s…you know, made pointed remarks…to me.”

“Suggestive remarks?”

Freddie shook her head at Ana’s question. “No. He’s, well, he is a sweetie. It’s rather endearing, really. He blurts out things, then freezes in a kind of nervous, self-conscious way.”

“He’s interested,” Charlotte confirmed with a toss of her curls. “Yup, he’s sure interested, all right.”

“And you know this because…?” Jackie asked, her eyebrows lifting.

“Because I went to school with Clay. We graduated from high school together. And…he never flirted with me. Clay was the quiet Dempsey, always trying to please everyone around him. He worked hard at school and played hard at all kinds of sports and vowed the whole time that he was leaving this island for the big city. He always wanted to be a policeman.” She tapped her finger on the table. “But now he’s back and he’s…flirting. Clay never flirted unless he was serious. He had to get up his nerve. Yup, he’s interested,” she said again, her tapping picking up its tempo.

“But I’m not,” Freddie said, taking a sip of her peach-mango tea to calm the jitters in her stomach. “I can’t get involved with another cop.”

“Old boyfriend?” Tina asked as she peeled the skin off her orange slice, then tossed the fresh wedge of fruit into her mouth.

Freddie didn’t want to explain, but she felt cornered. And it was good to have female friends to confide in. If these friends could be trusted. She knew she could trust Ana, but what about the rest?

“You can trust us,” Jackie said as if she’d read Freddie’s mind. “But if you don’t want to tell us—”

“She does,” Charlotte said, “don’t you?”

“I want you to understand,” Freddie replied, amused in spite of her qualms at how the women were all waiting impatiently for her to spill her worries. “But please don’t spread this around. My son—”

“They won’t repeat it,” Ana said, her eyes narrowing in a glare that told her employees they’d better heed her gentle warning. “Right, girls?”

Three heads bobbed. “No. No way. Never.”

Freddie had to smile at that. “I was married to a cop.”

“Oh, Ryan’s father?” Ana asked, concern in her voice.

“Yes.” She glanced out toward the ocean across the narrow ribbon of road. The cobalt water beckoned her. She wished she could forget the past and enjoy the tranquility of this tiny island. But she knew it would take time. “He died in the line of duty.”

All of the women became quiet then. Ana reached a hand across the table to Freddie. “That’s tough. I’m so sorry. I knew you were a widow, but…well, I had no idea.”

“How long?” Jackie asked.

“A little over a year ago,” Freddie replied, memories hitting at her with gale force. “We lived in Dallas. He’d been on the force there for six years. His father and his older brother are both police officers, too. They all took it pretty hard.”

She didn’t say how hard or that they’d made her life miserable after Gary’s death.