Page 144 of The Love Haters

I packed up, took Rue’s car, and hit the Overseas Highway. But I hadn’t even made it to the mainland—or stopped thinking about that kiss for one second—when Rue called.

“Have you left yet?” Rue asked.

I was on Islamorada. “I’m on the road,” I said. “What’s going on?”

Rue hesitated, like she wasn’t sure if she should tell me.

“Rue?” I asked. “What is it?”

Rue let out a sigh. “I just got a call from Lieutenant Alonso.”

My first thought was Hutch. “Is everything okay?”

“Looks like he had some trouble with George Bailey.”

George Bailey. Not Hutch. Okay. “What does that mean—trouble?”

“When he went to Hutch’s place, he couldn’t get George Bailey to come with him.”

“You mean—”

“Apparently the rain had started already, and the thunder…”

Oh, god.

“And Lieutenant Alonso had six other pets in his minivan—plus his wife and kids.”

“And so he justleft him?”

“I’m not sure they had much choice. That dog weighs a hundred and sixty pounds. You can’t force him to go anywhere he doesn’t want to.”

“So what you’re saying is… George Bailey is alone on theRue the Dayright now?”

“Do you know anyone who’s still in town?”

I didn’t. My mind was churning. “Does Hutch have a hidden key somewhere?”

“The lieutenant left the door unlocked.”

Then she seemed to intuit what I was thinking. “But not you,” Rue said. “You’re not going yourself. There’s no time to turn back. The traffic’s only going to get worse—and the last place you want to be when a hurricane hits is on a seven-mile bridge out over the ocean. Just get to the mainland. I’ll find somebody.”

“Okay,” I said. “I hear you. I’m sure we’ll find someone.”

But we wouldn’t. Right? We wouldn’t find anyone. Everybody was either gone or going. And if Lieutenant Alonso—tough as nails with a tattoo of Poseidon on his shoulder—couldn’t get George Bailey off the boat, what chance did a mere mortal have?

That dog couldn’t be forced.

He could only becajoled.

And the only person I knew of besides Hutch who could cajole George Bailey… was me.

I thought of George Bailey on a boat, during a hurricane, endlessly trembling and all alone… and then I did what was doubtless, without question, hands-down, one million percent the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I U-turned without braking from the packed northbound side of the highway to the utterly deserted southbound side. With a screech.

And then I hauled ass back to Key West.

Would a Great Dane even fit in a Mini Cooper?

We were about to find out.

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