Seven years looked good on her, and just like that, the past swept over him and latched on.
Harley Tatum.
And that’s when he got Shasta’sOh. And theUm. Because the exact words rumbled inside him.
Oh. Um ...“Hey.”
Harley cocked her head. Her golden-brown eyes locked on his, sharp as a blade and, yes, he’d read the weather right.
Here’s Trouble was back in town.
And he was about to be in a world of hurt.
3
Of coursehe was back. Because this couldn’t be easy, right?
“Really?” Harley stood, unmoving, except for her heart slamming into her ribs. She glanced at Deke. “You might have mentioned this.”
Deke glanced between them. “You guys haven’t made up yet?” He sighed. “This will be fun.” He walked back to the board with the maps.
No, oh great, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off ... well, He Who She’d Promised to Forget.
Oh boy.
“Jericho.”
“Harley.”
Her jaw tightened.
He smiled, as if ... As if he hadn’t completely abandoned her. As if ... Well, as if she meant nothing to him. Or, at least, nothing anymore.
Great. Perfect.Her breath locked up inside her. How was it that she hadn’t seen the man in seven years and he could still set a burr under her skin with that stupid, annoying smile?
Didn’t help that he looked good.
Too good. At thirty-four, he should be sort of fat, maybe witha few stress lines around his mouth. Would help if he had a receding hairline too, but noooo, Jericho Bowie had just gotten more handsome with age. Still bore the rugged edge, that intense hazel-blue gaze, his dark hair sticking up in messy waves, and his jaw set so tight he might break a molar. He’d filled out, shoulders wider, thicker, his stance that of someone who knew how to walk into a room, possess it.
Possess her, even.
No,no—
“I didn’t ... what are you doing here?”Stupid mouth. Stop. Talking.
His eyes narrowed, just briefly, a flicker, and then he drew in a breath as if, again, she might be too much trouble. “You first.”
A beat, then it clicked and she impaled Deke with a look. “Really? He’s the one with—”
“The K9 scent dog,” Deke finished. “Yes.”
“I saw the dog. I thought maybe he was a comfort dog.” She glanced at Jericho. Smiled, nothing of warmth in it.
“Only if you are buried in snow,” Jericho said evenly. “You might find him comforting when he shows up tosave your life.”
The dog was cute. Black and brown, he wasn’t huge—midsized at best.
“He’s a Bernedoodle,” Jericho said. “Part Bernese mountain dog, part poodle.”