Page 7 of Will Bark for Pizza (Bluebell Springs #1)

A colorful tattoo snaked around one lower calf, but before I could make out what it was, my gaze zeroed in on the redness wrapped around her other leg. If I had any regrets about swimming out to her, they were gone now. If she hadn’t freed herself from the pondweed, she might have drowned.

“Will you hold him still?” she asked me, nodding at Husker as she held up her phone.

“Strange time for a photo op,” I pointed out.

She lifted the camera a little higher, letting me know I was captured in the frame. “In case you are a serial killer,” she said, a flirty flicker in her eyes that I may or may not have imagined.

She set the phone on a rock and stepped her toes into the water so she could clip the leash onto Husker’s collar.

The pup looked at the water between him and the shore and started to whine.

“Does he really not know how to swim?”

“Of course he does. It’s more of a preference.”

I held the board as still as I could until Husker hopped off. His back paws sank into the soft shore and a gentle wave rocked up to his hocks. He bolted forward as though he’d been bitten.

“That’s a pretty serious preference,” I noted, unable to blunt the chuckle that followed.

“There’s a reason he’s the dry one.” Our gazes met and held for several seconds, and something inside me stirred.

It was possible it was the gas station quesadilla I had on the way out here, but it was far more likely the redhead and her far too enticing smile.

Because I had to focus on her smile to ignore the way her wet T-shirt and shorts clung to her skin, revealing curves that could haunt me for days—probably longer.

“Most huskies I know don’t like the water. ”

“He’s a Husky?”

“He’s an Alaskan Husky.”

“Is that supposed to mean something special?”

“It’s the reason he doesn’t look like the typical Siberian Husky. He’s a mixed breed, bred to be a sled dog. In Alaska.”

I looked at the dog, who had his head tilted so far to the right it should hurt. But he didn’t seem in pain. Just curious about what his mom was up to as she collected flip-flops and her phone from the shore.

“Bet he loves the snow.”

“You have no idea.” Her smile caused her blue eyes to sparkle. It made me forget where I was or that my soaked jeans clung uncomfortably to my legs. Or that I really should send Luke that text. Hell, I’m not sure I could recite my full name at the moment.

But I sure wanted to know hers.

Against my better judgment, I asked, “Am I allowed to ask your name, or is that against the serial killer code?”

“That would take all the fun out of it, don’t you think?”

She flashed me a flirty look that had Danger! Danger! shouting inside my head. I knew all I needed to know. She was a redhead, she was trouble, and she wasn’t from here. It was best if I detangled myself now before I did something half-witted—like ask for her number .

I carried the board back toward her Jeep—of course it was red, too—and set it down as she led Husker to the back and hooked his leash on the trailer hitch. “Where’s your paddle?”

“What?”

“Don’t paddleboards normally come with a paddle?”

“Dammit,” she hissed, looking back at the lake. It was too dark to tell if it was floating out there somewhere.

“You’re supposed to attach the paddle to your foot, right?”

She held up the aforementioned tether with its Velcro ankle strap. “I took it off.”

“I might have an extra one. A paddle, that is.”

She glanced back through the trees, where I parked hours ago. “In your truck?”

“No, back at the place where I’m staying.” Shut the hell up, Beckett.

She let out a laugh, the gentle chime of it almost rusty with disuse. It sent my thoughts spinning, coming up with ways to let her practice.

“Nope,” she said, still smiling but also shaking her head. “That’s just another thing a serial killer would say to lure me to my death—where there are no witnesses.”

“Actually, there would be a lot of witnesses.”

It wasn’t just Luke’s grandparents there.

It was Connor and his daughter, too. Though I appreciated my solitude—something Karl’s cabin could afford me should I decide to pull the trigger—I thoroughly enjoyed the bustling nature of the quaint homestead the family called a farm.

It was crawling with people and chickens alike.

Somehow, I suspected it was the last thing she’d want .

“Thanks, but no thanks. It’s just a paddle.” Red pulled a towel from the back of her Jeep and dried herself off. “I can get another one.”

I forced myself to turn all the way around and stare out at the lake.

Forced myself to think about anything else other than the way water droplets clung to her skin.

For a beat, I pictured the view ahead of me as my own.

The way the mountains turned to shadowy silhouettes after the sun was behind them.

It was a view I’d get to enjoy every evening.

I could easily imagine spending time out here, enjoying the serenity and isolation on what little downtime I might have.

Despite my hesitation and the possible walking omen behind me, something about this place felt right.

“You want me to deflate your board?” I asked, deciding Karl wouldn’t mind if I slept on the decision, considering his penchant for changing his mind. Besides, it was late enough as it was.

“I appreciate you saving us and all, but really, you can go now.” She reappeared at the side of her Jeep wearing a hoodie. She made a subtle, not-so-subtle shooing motion with her hand. “I got it from here.”

It was the out any sane man who was eager to avoid a curse would take.

I almost did. I started to round her Jeep, headed back toward the cabin for my truck.

But then I spotted a giant half-eaten cookie in her front seat.

If the interior light wasn’t on, I wouldn’t have noticed it at all. “ atulations ook 25? ”

“What?”

“The cookie. Or what’s left of it.”

Red rolled up her deflated paddleboard and tossed it into the back of her Jeep. “It’s a celebration cookie, if you must know.”

“What are you celebrating?”

She opened the back door and Husker hopped right in. “Do you have a towel?” she asked, scanning me up and down. I’d collected my shirt and boots, but I hadn’t put them back on. They were piled on the dock, which, I realized as I started to shiver, was a dumb place for them to be.

“Yeah, I’m sure I do.” I was pretty sure I didn’t.

“You should use it,” she said, her gaze lingering on the tattoos on my bare chest. “It’s cooling off.”

“You sure you’re okay? You don’t need to get checked out by a doctor or anything?” I didn’t even know why the hell I was asking, considering it was clear she was fine and eager to be rid of me. It was only that her rounding the Jeep to her driver’s side door felt too final.

I should leave well enough alone. Let her drive away and forget all about the odd encounter. Count my blessings that I remained untangled from a redhead for once in my life.

She hopped into the driver’s seat, closing the door but leaving the window rolled down. Husker stuck his head out the partially opened window in the back, staring at me expectantly, as though I should have a treat, or at least, offer him a head scratch.

“Thanks for the assist,” she said, cranking the ignition.

“You have somewhere to stay?” The questions sounded desperate, but I couldn’t seem to stop them. When she drove away, I might never see her again. Especially if she was just passing through .

Nana would smack me upside the head for prolonging this.

“That’s another question a serial killer would ask,” she answered with a smile before she backed up and drove away.

I stood on the shore, jeans still soggy, and watched the red Jeep disappear around the wooded bend, into the dusky darkness.

“What a weird fucking night,” I mumbled, collecting my T-shirt and boots from the dock. I shot Luke a quick text to fill him in, and save him the trip. I sent one to Nana as well, but I had to reassure her I didn’t ask the redhead on a date to keep her from calling back and lecturing me.

The last light on the horizon faded into night. Dozens of stars overhead transformed into hundreds. Then thousands.

Yeah, I could call this place home.

A yawn assaulted me so strongly my eyes watered. I should go. I was exhausted down to my bones, and I had a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I looked out at the peaceful lake one last time and noticed something long and narrow wash up to the shore.

I trekked back down toward the water’s edge. Sure enough, a purple paddle that matched the pad of Red’s board had wedged itself in the rocky sand.

She and her dog might be miles down the road by now. If I left the paddle on the dock, she might come back and find it.

But because I just couldn’t seem to help myself, I carried the paddle back to my truck for safekeeping. At least, that was the lie I told myself.