Page 45 of Swept for Forever
I guided her to the truck. It had been a long time since I’dhad a dog. I’d forgotten how fast they wrapped around your heart.
She was the very picture of innocence, her eyes full of hope. Her belly, legs, and tail were streaked with dried mud, but her face was spotless.
And I was already screwed.
Which was how I found myself smuggling thirty pounds of contraband fur into a motel room.
Lulu was thrilled about our criminal activity.
I, meanwhile, was debating whether sneaking a dog into a room was the lowest crime I’d ever committed or the lowest crime I’d ever defended.
The jury was out.
I got her settled, then stripped off my shirt, tossing it on the chair before heading for the shower. The hot water worked wonders on my sore muscles, washing away the last of the dirt and exhaustion.
By the time I stepped out with a towel around my waist, Lulu was sprawled across the bed.
“You’re a terrible fugitive,” I told her, toweling off my hair.
She yawned.
“Fine. If I go down for this, you’re my accomplice.”
Her tail thumped once.
I sighed, grabbed the complimentary shampoo, and gave her a bath in the tub, which shehated.
“You were rolling in mud like it was a spa treatment,” I grumbled as she gave me the most betrayed look imaginable.
Eventually, I got her dry and back onto the bed, where she immediately curled up onmypillow.
Whatever. She’d earned it.
Then, I did what any man in my position would do.
I ordered delivery.
And I ordered big.
By the time the food arrived, Lulu and I were knee deep in the best meal we’d had in days. Steak, mashed potatoes, and some kind of chocolate cake I’d probably regret eating at midnight. Lulu got her own plate of grilled chicken.
“I think we pulled off the heist of the century,” I said as she demolished her food.
She licked my hand in approval.
I stretched out on the bed, full and finally relaxed. The news droned in the background, nothing I was really watching. Until a segment caught my ear.
It was about a missing young woman from up north, near Hamilton. The anchor said her name was Deborah Sinclair. They flashed her photo on screen. She had tightly curled hair, clear eyes, and a big smile.
“Poor thing,” I murmured, rubbing Lulu’s back as she barked, too focused on the screen for a dog.
Then I reached for the remote and turned it off. It was heartbreaking how easily someone could just vanish, but I wasn’t here to worry about the world. Instead, I let myself think about Autumn.
It was almost funny how this whole thing started.
I had just wanted to get a little peace and remind myself that life was more than courtrooms and case files, late nights and last-minute defense strategies.
I hadn’t expected to nearly fall face-first into a mess of trouble.
