Sweet Tomorrows by Debbie Macomber

to check that out, lady.”
    “Okay, I will.” I wasn’t willing to take a stranger’s word for it. “Give me a minute.” Seeing that Rover was a common dog name, there had to be more than one in the vicinity, although why the man had the phone number to the inn remained a mystery.
    I hurried out to the porch where I’d last seen Rover, and after a frantic search I had to accept he wasn’t there. In fact, he wasn’t anywhere that I could see. I swallowed hard as a sense of panic filled me. The fireworks must have frightened him. If I lost Rover, Jo Marie would be devastated. She doted on that dog; the two were inseparable. She’d entrusted me with caring for him. I couldn’t let her down.
    Racing back into the house, I grabbed the phone. “He isn’t here,” I blurted out.
    “I know, lady, because he’s here.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Harbor Street at a place called A Horse with No Name.”
    The biker bar. Rover had roamed that far from the inn?
    “If I were you, I’d hurry.”
    “Is he hurt?” I asked, doing my best to sound calm, although my heart was racing frantically.
    “He’s drunk.”
    “Drunk?”
    “The guys here are feeding him beer.”
    I gasped. “Oh no, I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
    The gruff-voiced man on the other end of the line laughed. “I thought that might be the case.”
    As soon as I disconnected, I grabbed my car keys and raced out of the inn, stopping only long enough to make sure all the doors were locked. The last thing I wanted was for someone to break in and rob the place while I was away.
    Because of the fireworks display on the waterfront, getting out of the downtown area was a hassle; traffic was a mess. I’d worked in the Seattle area, where snarled traffic was a way of life. It generally didn’t bother me. It did now. I wouldn’t rest easy until I had Rover back at the inn and sobered up.
    A Horse with No Name tavern was a run-down shack on the outskirts of town. A long row of motorcycles was lined up in neat formation out front. I parked on the side of the tavern among several other cars, then squared my shoulders and walked into the bar.
    I found the large open room filled with burly men in leather vests. Music blared from the jukebox loud enough to hurt my ears. Several pool tables set against the wall had intimidating, heavily tattooed men milling around them. I didn’t see many women and the ones I did were hanging on to the men like pole dancers in a strip club. Most important, I didn’t see Rover.
    Not knowing who I’d spoken to on the phone, I did what I thought was sensible. I headed for the bar, edging my way among tables, chairs, and bodies, all of which seemed to take pride in impeding my progress.
    “Hey, babe, you looking to party?” one beefy, gray-haired biker asked. He looked old enough to be my father, with a thick, scruffy, unkempt beard. Both arms had sleeve tattoos and his neck was heavily marked as well.
    “No thanks,” I said, not wanting to offend him. “I’m here for my dog.”
    “Hey, that mutt your dog? He’s a party animal if ever I saw one,” he said and laughed at his own joke.
    “He likes beer,” another biker commented. “Bet you do, too.”
    It was hard to make out the words over the loud music. Again I smiled and politely declined. “I’m only here for the dog.”
    It felt like forever before I was able to make it across the room. The bartender was busy filling pitchers of beer and didn’t notice me until I stood on the tips of my toes and leaned as far forward as I could, waving my arm in order to catch his attention.
    “Be with you in a minute,” he called out when he noticed me.
    “I’m here about the dog.”
    “I’ll get to you in a minute, lady. I’m working as fast as I can here; be a little patient, will ya?”
    “Okay, sorry.” Patience wasn’t one of my strong suits. I found being around these bikers unsettling, especially since several seemed to have taken a keen interest in me. The