Kittens, Puppies & Love

Chapter 1

Sheriff’s Department

September

 

Killian Reade closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. The sheriff’s department was quieter than it had been for a few months, and he kind of enjoyed it. With the end of summer sending the tourists home, it gave him time to appreciate how much his life had changed in the past year.

Surprised you liked it, aren’t you?

Before he could dive too far down the reflection hole, Dylan, his boss, dropped a pile of folders on his desk. “You’re welcome.

“Bloody hell, Dylan! I’ve already finished my paperwork.”

“Just think of them as a gift.” Dylan gave him a cheeky smile. “When you’re done, I’ll take my usual from Sally’s.”

“But aren’t these Rusty’s cases?”

“He had to take Rene to the airport, so …”

“Welcome to Swan Harbor,” Killian grumbled, more for show than annoyance at helping his partner.

“What can I say?” Dylan grinned. “We’re a friendly bunch.”

Killian sighed and opened the first file. “But next time you want to give me a gift, a pastry from Paula’s will do.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Killian laughed—an action that, even after being in Swan Harbor for seven months, still felt abnormal. In a way, it was comforting, especially after living in relative anonymity for much of the previous ten years. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder or second-guess his actions. The sound of gunshots didn’t wake him nightly, and the smell of blood didn’t surround him.

Those thoughts were ones he rarely allowed, preferring more pleasant ones. Such as the bevy of beautiful women the picturesque town offered. 

“All done, Killian?” Amy, the office clerk, asked.

“Thanks, love.” He nodded toward the completed pile. “You can take those.” 

“Need anything else?”

The hopeful tone in her voice had him glancing back up. “Not right now,” and because it was expected, he winked.

Her smile dimmed. “Well, okay, I’ll just file these.” She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and left the room with a little extra wiggle in her walk.

Women liked him, and with his tousled black hair, blue eyes, and square jaw, he was used to their attention. He treated them well and never made promises he didn’t intend to keep.

However, people only saw the Killian Reade he allowed them to see. It was a behavior he liked—most of the time. Except lately, his once comfortable habits no longer felt so. They unsettled him, making him wonder what was around the corner. Yet, those were feelings he didn’t understand, and ones he spared little energy on.

When he’d completed the folders, Killian left them on Amy’s desk, slipped on his sunglasses, and stepped into the September sun. He was greeted, not by the peaceful sound of waves, but by the untuned engine of a bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle. The thought of ticketing them for disturbing the peace was just starting to form when he caught sight of the driver. Bloody hell!

* * *

Main Street

12:45 p.m.

 

Emma glanced at the building as she rolled past and read its sign, “Swan Harbor Sheriff Department,” her second landmark. Unconsciously, she tightened her hand on the gearshift.

Just two more blocks.

Why was she nervous? This was what she’d been working toward.

Then, take a right.

She’d grown up in a world full of make-believe and had run far away.

125 Summer Ave, Suite 2A.

As an adult, Emma needed to be in control. Something she’d had very little of growing up. Which left her with a tendency to throw up walls, especially in situations where she might not be completely comfortable. 

Attorney Ben Matthews, 1:00 p.m.

One way she retained control was by setting goals. Once they’d been achieved, she’d check them off. They allowed her to see where she’d been and make plans for where she wanted to go. Those were important to her well-being.  

Emma pulled into a parking space in front of the early colonial home where Ben’s office was located. 

Her palms began to sweat. 

She opened the door, and the Rhopalocera in her stomach swarmed. When she stepped from the car, her heart rate took off like a herd of Equus caballus.

It’s okay, Emma. 

Except the voice couldn’t stop the feelings inside. Fear, anxiousness, excitement … hope. 

Goals equaled success, something she’d said to herself probably a million times. All she needed to do was sign a few papers, and one more item could be crossed off her list.

Graduate from High School. Check.

Graduate with her Bachelor’s. Check.

Get into Veterinarian School. Check.

Graduate from Veterinarian School. Check.

Pass licensure exams. Check.

Get a job. She was doing better than just getting a job. Soon, she would be Doctor Emma Foster, Owner and Veterinarian.

* * *

Sally’s Diner

1:00 p.m.

 

Killian stepped into Sally’s Diner, his thoughts still on the lovely lass driving the yellow car. She’d looked through him and not at him, a behavior that had him curious.

“Hey, Killian,” Hayden, Sally’s nephew, greeted him with a series of hand slaps. “Let me clean this table, and your order should be ready.”

“My order?” Killian frowned at the younger lad. “I don’t recall giving my order. Did I step through a time warp?”

Hayden rolled his eyes in typical late-teen fashion. “No, you’re just one of my regulars, that’s all.”

“Regulars?” Killian glanced down at his black jeans and t-shirt. “I never thought of myself as a regular anything.”

Hayden tucked his rag back into his apron and picked up the tray of dirty dishes. “Regular, as in you have lunch at Sally’s three times a week, eat the same foods, look around for someone, and after paying, you leave.”

“I’m that predictable?” 

Hayden grinned. “Very much so.” 

“And when I look around, you’re assuming I’m looking for someone, or do you know?”

“Killian,” Hayden exclaimed with a slightly exasperated tone, “I’m not a kid. I know you’re trolling for fresh meat. I’ll check on your order.”

“Maybe you should be the Investigator instead of me.”

Hayden laughed. “Nah, I’m a computer guy, you know that. I’ll be right back.”

Killian watched the younger man bound across the room. His mannerisms and confidence reminded him of his younger days. However, life and experiences had gotten in the way and created the man he saw in the mirror. Predictable in his past life would have gotten him killed. Did he want that title? Or any of the titles Hayden had used?

“Dylan’s order was ready too.” Hayden handed him two bags. “See you at the gym tomorrow.”

“I’m predictable about that, too?”

Hayden blushed, almost as if he was embarrassed to have divulged so much information. “Well …” 

Killian gave the younger man a break and changed the subject. “When do you head back to school?” 

“Next week. Just three more years.”

“Don’t rush it. You’ll get there soon enough. I’ll see you at the gym.” 

He hadn’t gotten far when the yellow car rushed past, loud music trailing in its wake. Where had she been? Where was she going, and who the bloody hell was she?