Bride-to-be Abigail Callahan has her life mapped out. Good career, wealthy fiancé--it's perfect...too perfect. Then sexy bad-boy-turned-cop Raff Finn reenters Abby's life, landing her with an adorable homeless dog called Kleppy and a whole lot of trouble....
Raff's teenage recklessness once broke them apart, but he's not about to let his childhood sweetheart marry the wrong guy. With help from Kleppy and some Banksia Bay magic, Raff plans to reawaken the Abby he's always loved.
If you couldn't be useful at the scene of an accident, you should leave. Onlookers only caused trouble.
Banksia Bay's Animal Welfare van had been hit from behind. Dogs were everywhere. People were yelling at each other. Esther Ford was having hysterics.
Abigail Callahan, however, had been travelling at a safe enough distance to avoid the crash. She'd managed to stop before her little red sports car hit anything, and she'd done all she could.
She'd checked no one was hurt. She'd hugged Esther, she'd tried to calm her down and she'd phoned Esther's son who, she hoped, might be better at coping with hysterics than she was. She'd carried someone's crumpled fender to the side of the road. She'd even tried to catch a dog. Luckily, she'd failed. She wasn't good with dogs.
Now, blessedly, Emergency Services had arrived. Banksia Bay Emergency Services took the shape of Rafferty Finn, local cop, so it was definitely time for Abby to leave.
Stay away from Raff Finn.
It wasn't past history making her go. She was doing the right thing.
She tried to back her car so she could turn, but the crowd of onlookers was blocking her way. She touched her horn and Raff glared at her.
How else could she make people move? She did not need to be here. She looked down at her briefcase and thought about the notes inside that she knew had to be in court—now. Then she glanced back at Raff and she thought...She thought...
She thought Rafferty Finn looked toe-curlingly sexy.
Which was ridiculous.
Abby had fallen for Raff when she was eight. It was more than time she was over it. She was over it. She was so over it she was engaged to be married. To Philip.
When Raff had been ten years old, which was when Abby had developed her first crush on him, he'd been skinny, freckled and his red hair had spiked straight up. Twenty years on, skinny had given way to tall, tanned and ripped. His thick curls had darkened to burned copper, and his freckles had merged to an all-over tan. His gorgeous green eyes, with dangerous mischief lurking within, had the capacity to make her catch her breath.
But right now it was his uniform that was causing problems. His uniform was enough to make a girl go right back to feeling as she had at eight years old.
Raff was directing drivers. He was calm, authoritative and far more sexy than any man had a right to be.
'Henrietta, hold that Dalmatian before it knocks Mrs Ford over. Roger, quit yelling at Mrs Ford. You drove into the dog van, not Mrs Ford, and it doesn't make a bit of difference that she was going too slow. Back your Volvo up and get it off the road.'
Do not look at Raff Finn, she told herself. Do not. The man is trouble.
She turned and tried again to reverse her car. Why wouldn't people move?
Someone was thumping on her window. The door of her car swung open. She swivelled and her heart did a back flip. Raff was standing over her—six foot two of lethal cop. With dog.
'I need your help, Abby,' he growled and, before she could react, there was a dog in her car. On her knees.
'I need you to take him to the vet,' Raff said. 'Now.'
The local veterinary clinic was half a mile away, on the outskirts of town.
But she wasn't given a chance to argue. Raff slammed her car door closed and started helping Mrs Ford steer to the kerb.
There was a dog on her knee.
Abby's grandmother had once owned a shortbread tin adorned with a picture of a dog called Greyfriars Bobby. According to legend—or Gran—Bobby was famous for...