Page 22 of The Deadly Shallows

“Red or white?” she asked, facing her small wine rack with exactly two bottles in it.

“Red with pizza, please.”

“You read my mind.” She pulled the bottle from the top rung.

“Can I help you with that?” he offered as she struggled with one arm in a sling to screw the corkscrew in the cork.

“I’ve got it, but thanks.”

He chuckled under his breath. Of course she did. She had to be the most stubborn woman he’d ever met, and he knew Gabby and Rissi, for goodness’ sake.

Her brow set in a hard line, she gave it her best, then finally exhaled and looked up at him. “I suppose a little help wouldn’t hurt.”

He smiled and opened the bottle. She set two long-stem cobalt glasses on the counter beside him.

He poured into both glasses, and she handed him one.

“Thank you,” he said, warming even more to the idea of more time spent with Austin Kelly. This had to be the first time they were alone while not actively investigating, and there was something so . . . entrancing about her.

She lifted her chin toward the patio door. “Shall we?”

He nodded and held the door open for her. The screened-in patio was the definition of relaxing. A small iron table and chairs with oversized cushions sat on the far right, the perfect spot for a view of the sound during the day, and the ripples of moonlight across it at night. Wind chimes—or were those spoons dangling down?—jangled in the wind. He glanced at the love seat bolstered with pillows and two heavy throws draped over it.

Austin flipped on the heaters, and before long, the small area warmed up nicely.

She stood at the edge of the patio, staring at the sound. He moved to stand beside her.

“Beautiful view,” he said, lifting his glass toward the marsh. The grass swayed in the breeze, the sound of waves lapping along the shore, and the stars . . . She hadn’t exaggerated. With the majority of the surrounding houses dark for the night, the sky shone with sparks of illumination. It reminded him just how small he was in the majesty of God’s creation.

“Dirk,” she called back toward the cracked screen door.

Caleb turned to the door, assuming Dirk was a pet, but they hadn’t been greeted by any when they entered the house.

A chubby bulldog nosed the door farther open, waddled out, and quickly collapsed with an oomph onto the oversized cushion on the patio floor by the love seat. His breathing was lethargic, his movements stiff.

“Is he okay?” Caleb asked.

“No.” She walked over to Dirk and knelt to rub his big round belly. “I don’t know what it is. I’m taking him to the vet tomorrow. Hopefully, Lucy will be able to help.”

He prayed whatever was wrong was an easy fix. He saw the love in her eyes as she continued rubbing Dirk’s belly. He knew the deep love of a pet, and the horrific stabbing pain of losing one.

“I don’t know what’s going on around here,” she said, looking up at him.

Caleb took a sip of wine. “What do you mean?”

“Dirk’s the third dog on our street to get sick.”

“That’s odd.”

“Agreed,” she said, standing up and taking a seat on the love seat.

Caleb joined her. “I hope your vet is able to quickly treat whatever it is.”

Fifteen minutes of chatting later, the doorbell rang, and Austin moved to stand, but Caleb beat her to it.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “You just relax. It’s been a trying day, and that’s putting it mildly.”

“Thanks.” She sat back.