Page 8 of Wag More Bark Less

I might not be able to arrest a crow for breaking and entering, but Miss Mayhem with a capital M? That was looking like a different matter entirely.

Feeling a bit smug, I took the steps two at a time. If this menace of a woman broke into my rental, canceling her reservation would be letting her off lightly. If she broke the guest rules, she’d have to take it up with the vacation rental company when I booted her and refused to refund her. And from past experience, I knew it was a battle she wouldn’t win.

But any hopes that I might be able to send the irritating woman on her way before sundown faded as I checked the doors and peered through the windows. All of them were secured, not a trace of anyone inside. The pile of luggage on the front porch made more sense now.

Where did she go?

I returned to the driveway, prepared to give her a call. But my gaze snagged on a mass of white fabric piled over the headrests in the back seat of her car. It reminded me of a ballerina costume Kira wore one year for Halloween, except hers was pink.

Tulle.

White tulle.

My stomach twisted into a tight knot at a memory I’d suppressed. An empty dressing room, an engagement ring on the vanity counter with a note, and a wedding dress hanging against the back of the door, one strap hung lower on the hanger than the other, as though the second thoughts overcame her before she fully removed it from its satin hanger.

“Did he really call the cops on me?” a woman’s voice called from the middle of the street behind me, shattering the memory and yanking me back to the present.

My gaze lifted to a blonde in tight jeans and an oversized coral flannel shirt tied at her waist. Loose, lazy honey waves of hair danced in the breeze, catching the sunlight as she and a black dog with copper accents and a white strip of fur down its chest approached.

“Officer, I didn’t break in if that’s why you’re here. So you can tell my host to call off the SWAT team. And while you’re at it, tell him to respond to the twenty messages I sent. I’m locked out, but I’m paid in full. I have every right to be here.”

Piercing blue eyes, the same shade as the clear sky, locked on me as she came to a stop in the middle of the driveway. The dog leaned against her leg, looking up at her. A lump formed in my throat, and I was temporarily stunned into silence. Miss Mayhem was nothing like I imagined.

I’d expected . . . What exactly did I expect?

Not a young woman—late twenties, early thirties—dressed as though she could represent our little mountain town on a welcome poster, with curves in all the right places, and stunning blue eyes whose sparkle could cause even the sanest man to walk into oncoming traffic without a second thought. The Karen I’d envisioned was more Wicked Witch of the West and less . . . a total fucking knockout.

Fuck, man. Keep it professional.

I folded my arms across my chest, burying the fingers that itched to reach for her beneath my biceps. I blamed the impulse on the wedding dress she was clearly hiding in her car. One that triggered a memory I’d buried deep. This wasn’t Raquel. This was . . . Guest 986.

Her name was on the reservation somewhere, but for the life of me, I couldn’t recall what it was.

“Do you need to see my reservation?” she asked when I still hadn’t responded. “I paid in full. Maybe you can give Ellie your blessing so he’ll get off my back about her. Does she look destructive to you?”

The dog locked eyes with me, and I instantly felt stupid for ever picking an argument.

“No, I don’t think—” I tripped over my words, forced to clear my throat and try again.

Before new words successfully formed, her gaze flicked to the back seat where the edges of what I’d bet my badge was a wedding dress peeked out from the back. Her expression shifted, a flash of some emotion I couldn’t pin flared in her eyes. Panic? Anger? Both?

I couldn’t picture a future bride stowing such a precious garment so carelessly.

Fuck, do I have a runaway bride on my hands?

“You do not have permission to search my vehicle,” she snapped, following my lead and folding her arms over her chest as she stepped to block my view. Her narrowed gaze might have been sexy if it weren’t so murderous.

Fucking focus, Luke.

“I’m here to reset the code since you locked yourself out. Unless you’ve changed your mind about the reservation?”

“Wait. You’re Luke?” Her startled expression gave me a fleeting moment of malicious satisfaction. She really hadn’t seen that one coming.

She glanced across the street, where Walter Smalley was shuffling down the sidewalk, no doubt headed to the weekly Legion gathering—one the older vets kept inviting me to attend. But something always came up.

Walter waved, and I sent a wave back.

“I didn’t break in,” she repeated. “And I’m Maggie, by the way.”