Free Summer Shadows by Gayle Roper Page A

Walker had kicked her when he wrapped his skinny legs about her, and the chill licking at her had tightened the muscles further. She hadn’t limped this much in months.
    As she took a step, a shaft of pain slashed through her hip, across her lower back. She grimaced, pausing to let the agony recede. In spite of her best efforts a slight groan escaped.
    Marsh heard and stopped too. Instead of the “poor baby” treatment she was used to, he sighed. “This is ridiculous. You’ll be in a wheelchair and have pneumonia before you get home.”
    He turned to her, lowered one shoulder, and hit her in the stomach like a tackler would the quarterback, though probably not as hard. He wrapped an arm around her legs and straightened. Next thing she knew, she was hanging over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, her head bumping his back with every step.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” she yelled as soon as she recovered from the shock of his move.
    “Saving you from yourself.”
    She braced her hands on his waist and pushed herself away from his body, holding on to his T-shirt. She found herself nose to nose with a confused Fargo. “Nice dog.” She gave him what she hoped was a conciliatory smile.
    Fargo sneered.
    Abby sneered back. “I’m not hurting him, you idiot animal. He’s hurting me.”
    “Like I care.”
    For a blink of a second Abby thought Fargo had spoken. Then the rumble of Marsh’s back under her hands registered. “Put me down!”
    “Yeah, yeah. In a minute.”
    “I hate to hang upside down. It gives me a headache.”
    He didn’t bother to answer, just tramped over the sand and onto the paved area beside the house.
    “I’m getting you all wet.” She almost felt guilty.
    “I’ll dry.” He began climbing the stairs to her apartment. Her cane, dangling from her hand, bumped against each riser. She was struck by an overwhelming urge to use it in a sharp swat across his bottom. It would be nothing less than he deserved for manhandling her like this.
    Fortunately for both of them they reached the landing at the top of the stairs before she had time to act. He bent and dumped her off as unceremoniously as he had picked her up. When she rocked on her feet, he steadied her with a grip on an elbow.
    He glared at her. “You take that shower you told Walker about.”
    Shivering uncontrollably, she glared back and nodded.
    He turned to leave.
    “Thanks.” She was pleased at how ungrateful she sounded.
    “Um,” he replied. He really was a great conversationalist.
    “When I’m warm and dry, I want to go get my car.” Now where had that come from? It was like some little demon in her wanted to make his life as difficult as she could.
    He stopped. “Tonight?” His disbelief and reluctance were obvious.
    Perversity ruled. She looked at him as haughtily as she could. “Tonight.”
    He grunted. “Eight-thirty.”
    Fargo, watching with a frown from the bottom of the stairs, woofed agreement.
    Abby waved a weary hand and went inside. Puppy raised her sleepy head from the sofa where she was snoozing, her eyelids at half-mast. She yawned, showing Abby her tonsils.
    “I saved a kid’s life just now.” With a burst of pleasure, Abby realized that was absolutely true. She was a real-life heroine, sort of like the Old Testament queen Esther. Granted Esther saved the lives of many and Abby only saved one, but she knew she, too, had been born “for such a time as this.”
    Puppy, uncaring and unimpressed, yawned and was back asleep before her chin hit her paws.
    “Thanks for the affirmation,” Abby muttered. “You sure know how to make a woman feel good.”
    As she walked past the phone, she noticed the message button blinking. Without thinking, she stopped and hit play.
    “Abby, how could you?” Her mother’s soft voice filled the apartment. The sorrow and hurt oozed over the distance.
    With a grunt that would have done Marsh proud, Abby hit delete.
    Enough was enough.

Eight
    M ARSH DROVE ABBY into