He rose, crossing the worn carpet, and took the seat beside her.“Youlook like someone who just lost.”
Her gaze flicked over him, cool and unimpressed.“Ididn’t lose.Ijust recalculated.”
Declan chuckled.“Thatsounds like something someone says when they’re plotting revenge.”
“MaybeIam.”
He lifted his glass, studying her.“ShouldIbe concerned?”
“You?”Shesmirked.“No.Notunless you’re planning to stand in my way.”
“I try not to meddle,”Declansaid lightly.“ButI’velearned two things fast in this town: don’t badmouth thePickwickPirateQueens, and don’t mess withRoseMcAllisterunless you want half the county against you.”
AtRose’sname,Briana’ssmile twisted like a knife.“Funny.Yousound like someone who’s interested.”
“MaybeIam.”
She leaned in, perfume sharp and floral.“Thenlet me give you some free advice,Dr.Rowe.She’snot as perfect as everyone pretends.Andshe’s about to make a very familiar mistake.”
Declan’s easy smile dimmed, curiosity sharpening.“Andyou’re planning to stop her?”
“I’m planning,”Brianasaid, sliding off the stool, tossing back the last of her drink, “to make sure she doesn’t forget whoIam.”
Her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she swayed toward the exit, leaving the faintest trace of perfume and menace behind.
Declan watched her go, unsettled.Hewasn’t sure whether to laugh at her dramatics or worry forRose.He’dcome toPickwickBendfor peace, to build a practice where he could heal dogs and cats and maybe himself after too many years in bigger cities.Butclearly, he’d stumbled into a story already in motion.
And maybe, just maybe,RoseMcAllisterwasn’t the only one who needed to watch her back.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Tuesday morning brought with it an ordinariness that belied the excitement of the weekend.Andlast night.
TheJunesun had just started warming the streets ofPickwickBend, its light gilding the brick storefronts in shades of amber and honey.MainStreetcarried the steady hum of small-town life: the squeak of a screen door opening atTheMimosaDiner, the rhythmic clang of someone unloading crates atFintoFork, and the far-off laughter of kids playing in the park.
Rose stood in front ofSouthernSips, waiting for the delivery guy who was, as usual, running late.Thesmell of coffee grounds and sugar clung to her clothes from the morning rush, and she tapped her boot against the concrete, half-listening toCindyinside chatting with a customer about peach preserves and town politics.
Her mind, though, was somewhere else.
More specifically, on the wayAcen’sfingers had curled around hers the night before.Gentle.Certain.Likehe wasn’t trying to convince her—just remind her.
And that was maybe even more dangerous.
She blew out a breath, tilting her head back toward the sky, when a voice cut through her thoughts.
“Earth toRose.”
She blinked, snapping her gaze forward.Tashastood there, balancing two to-go cups in a cardboard tray and looking suspiciously amused.Themorning sun glinted off her earrings, and her bright floral blouse looked like something torn right from the pages of a summer catalog.
“Sorry,”Rosesaid, straightening.“Wasthinking.”
“AboutAcen,Iassume?”Tashahanded her a coffee, extra cream.Justthe wayRoseliked it.
“Thanks.Andmaybe.”
Tasha smirked.“You’renot as subtle as you think.”
Rose gave a dry laugh.“Everyonein this town watches me likeI’ma soap opera rerun.”
