The Romance Revival(67)

He frowns and follows me through the yard to the gate. “Maybe Crash came by but then saw us kissing?”

Maybe?

But really, if Crash saw us kissing, he would just wolf-whistle and make everything extremely awkward.

I try not to panic. Honey is a good girl; Luca said he could have walked her without the leash. She stayed by his side the whole time. Annie said she could see the squirrels from her backyard and Honey never barked, never tried to chase them. But now, instead of feeling better, I’m panicking even more, because I know she wouldn’t just run off.

Luca and I search the house and every inch of the yard before getting into my car to drive around the neighborhood, up and down each street. There’s no sign of Honey. We call her name; we squeeze her favorite squeaky lamb toy out the window. Luca walks alongside the car, whistling for her, but nothing.

“Someone took her,” I say, my voice tight and frantic, when we’re back at the house, unsure what to do next. “Someone came into the yard and took her.”

Luca sets a calming hand on my shoulder. “Why would someone do that?”

“Because she’s special,” I say, close to tears. I hate crying, but I’ve cried more in the past week than I have in years. Everything inside me is just so close to the surface. “She’s defied the laws of science and came back to life and—”

“And someone knows that and took her?”

“Yes!” I sob. “She’s already been through so much and she needs her vitamins and sometimes her leg hurts and she has a little bit of a limp. Maybe it’s me and this is some kind of cosmic retribution. Maybe I—”

“Emmy, honey. Breathe.”

I swallow, meeting his eyes.

“We’ll find her, okay?”

“How?”

“Well,” he says, stepping back with resolve, “if someone came and took her, there’s one person we need to talk to.”

I frown, confused.

“Betty.” Luca takes my hand and leads me back down the driveway and toward our neighbor’s house.



* * *



Betty Caldwell answers the door, looking as shocked to see me as I am to be here on her front porch. But then her gaze swings to Luca and her mouth goes wide in a relieved and delighted O.

“Luca! Darling! It’s so lovely to see you!”

Darling? I feel my brows instinctively pull low. That’s a little excessive.

He smiles at her, accepting her squeeze to his strong biceps, and when she steps back and looks at me again, she and I share a silent but completely fluent conversation.

He may be alive, but I still don’t trust you, she says with her milky blue eyes.

That’s fine. Your opinion means zero, I say with my clear brown ones.

You don’t deserve such a man, she says.

I give a tight smile. Why don’t you ask him what he thinks?

He’s clearly hoodwinked by your feminine wiles.

And honestly, I could do this all day, but we have bigger things to deal with. “Mrs. Caldwell,” I say aloud, and wait for her to insist I call her Betty, which she does not do. “Have you seen our dog, Honey?”

Betty’s eyes skim right over me to Luca when she says, “I noticed you’d gotten a dog.”

“Okay…” I lean to capture her attention again, but she keeps her gaze firmly on my husband, appraising. “But have you seen her?”

“It’s hard to see much of anything of help here with those new trees going up between our yards,” she says, and I roll my eyes. Betty reaches for his arm again. “How have you been, dear? I hear you were injured. Though I was under the impression you were sick.” She glances pointedly in my direction.

Luca nods and touches his thigh. “All better now.”

“I’m so glad to hear it.” She gives him one last squeeze and then turns her pruney expression back to me. “I’m sorry to say, no, I haven’t seen your pet.”

“Have you seen anyone around the neighborhood that you didn’t recognize?” I ask. “Someone who might have taken her?”

She chortles. “You think it was dognapped? It didn’t appear to be purebred.”

“She,” I say defensively, “is a very smart, very good—”

“We’re just trying to cover all the bases,” Luca cuts in gently, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer.

Betty tracks the movement, her mouth pursing with disapproval. “Yes, I have seen a few unfamiliar cars on the street lately,” she says. “And of course, your shirtless friend took your work truck.” She says this last part while looking at Luca, as if gauging whether this will surprise him.

“Because I couldn’t use it for a few days. He took it so it wouldn’t be in the driveway, bothering you.”

“You’re never a bother,” Betty says warmly, her emphasis clear.

“What did the unfamiliar cars look like?” I ask.

“Well, let’s see.” Betty turns to reach for something just inside the door and then produces a well-worn notebook. Obviously, I’ve never been inside her house, and I try to catch a glimpse before she very pointedly pulls the door closed again. She flips through several pages full of tidy handwriting. “There was a red sports car… that one was quite loud. I think it belonged to a friend of Daniel Grandin, and why anyone would buy a teenager a car like that is beyond me.”