In town, he snagged one of the secret parking spots behind the bookstore that only locals knew about, since there wasn’t another space to be found. No wonder his grandmother had sent him on this errand instead of going herself—the bakery was packed with the after-church crowd and leaf-peeking tourists scarfing down the world-class raspberry croissants.
When he reached the front of the line, Linda May, who wore her signature Best Baker in Bitter Bark name tag, offered Lusky a treat. “I didn’t know you had a dog, Declan,” she said as she bagged up the croissants.
“He was surrendered at the station. Any chance you’ve seen him before? We’ve been trying to track down an owner, if only to get some medical history and an age.”
She shook her head as she handed him change. “And that’s not a face you’d forget, is it?” Her gaze shifted past him as her face lit up. “And neither is that! Hello, Evie Hewitt. I heard you were in town, Doctor!”
Declan froze in the act of sliding a bill into his wallet, his mind going blank for a second. It always did during a rare Evie sighting.
Every time, he’d pray for the courage and strength to say something—anything—that could explain why he’d let their friendship become a casualty of that fire. But the words would never come, or the ones that bubbled up would sound hollow and pathetic, so he stuffed them back down into the emotional basement, where they’d been rotting for twenty years.
And then he was miserable for weeks.
Could this time be different? Please, God. Please.
“Oh, who do we have here?” Evie’s voice behind him punched as effectively as a fist to his solar plexus. It was still sweet and pretty and as clear as it was on those sweaty, unwelcome nights he dreamed about her. “A Husky-Malamute mix?”
Okay, maybe God wasn’t going to intervene. But…Lusky? Because who could connect with Evie better than an animal?
The dog stood a little behind him, so Evie obviously didn’t know Declan was there, giving him a few extra seconds to brace for impact before he turned.
But as he did, the dog rose up and slapped his paws on her chest, howling in a way that perfectly reflected how Declan felt every single time he saw her. Overwhelmed, dazed, and full of longing, love, agony, and ecstasy. If he could bellow like this dog, Declan might be able to explain away the last twenty years.
“Oh!” Evie stumbled back, holding out her hands and laughing in surprise. “That’s quite a greeting, my friend.”
“Sorry.” Declan managed to pull the dog back, and only then did Evie lift her gaze to look at him. And there, in that split second when she realized who he was, he saw a flash of something he remembered so well in her laser-blue eyes. That beautiful, warm, affectionate look that had been wiped away by a tragedy and time.
“Declan!” She backed away again, as if the sight of him had even more of an impact than the dog’s giant paws and loud cry.
“Hello, Evie.” Yes, he had the unfair advantage of preparation for the moment, but nothing ever really prepared him for her.
“Declan,” she said again, barely a whisper, as he could have sworn he saw a veil of protection fall over her face.
But it didn’t hide the fact that she got prettier every time he saw her. Her striking pale blue eyes still made a dramatic contrast to her nearly black hair, which now fell a few inches below her shoulders, so shiny and straight he imagined it was like raw silk to the touch.
Her face had lost its youthful softness, but that accentuated her cheekbones and the hint of a cleft in her chin that had always fascinated him. Still slender, still graceful, still stupefyingly gorgeous.
“I had no idea you were in town,” he said.
“I haven’t been here that long.” Her gaze dropped over his face and chest, then instantly returned to his eyes. “Granddaddy had a sudden craving for a raspberry croissant.” The explanation came out sounding a little nervous, as if he’d asked what she was doing at the bakery. Or as if she expected him to be cool and distant because he always was.
Not this time. Not this freaking time.
“Oh dear,” Linda May interjected. “The next batch of raspberry is still in the oven. Will Max take strawberry or chocolate chip?”
“Here.” Declan held his bag out to her, the other hand still clamped on the dog. “Take mine.”
“Your Linda May raspberry croissants?” She lifted her brows. “Do you know the street value for that bag?”
He laughed, the joke so…Evie that it relaxed some of the tension stretched across his chest. They could laugh, right? They always could laugh.
He tipped his head toward a nearby table being wiped down. “How about we wait for the croissants together?”
She considered the offer, her eyes warm with surprise. And maybe a little happiness. She glanced down at the dog as if Lusky had the answer.
He barked once, then lowered his head to gaze upward with a sweet, submissive plea in his eyes.
“He’s begging so I don’t have to,” Declan joked. Kind of a joke. Also kind of one hundred percent true.
As she laughed at that, her shoulders dropped, and he could see the very moment she made the decision. “Then I say yes.”
“Give that dog a treat,” he said, grabbing one from a small bowl on the counter.
It took a few minutes to get coffee, settle into the seats, and tuck the howler under the table with his cookie. But once they did, he took two croissants from his bag and placed them on napkins, and then they looked at each other, suddenly dead silent.
Of course. And now the obvious question. What the hell happened to you, Mahoney?
He swallowed. “So, how’s your grand—”
“I hear you’re a captain—”
They spoke right over each other,
