The Heart of a Hero by Barbara Wallace

“Wouldn’t stop ’til I took him outside.”
    “He hates being left out of the action. Don’t you, you spoiled brat?”
    Too involved with sniffing tree roots, the dachshund didn’t reply. “Of course,” she continued, “now that he’s out here with us, he’ll ignore us.”
    “Proof things aren’t always what they seem.”
    What was that odd statement supposed to mean? Cocking her head, she gave him a long, questioning look, hoping for an answer, but his face remained, like always, a sphinxlike mask.
    Suddenly, something he said hit her. “Did you say I got a delivery?” Couldn’t be the bat house. Probably a package from Caroline. Some item herassistant deemed vital to quality living no doubt, like an espresso maker or a big fat sign emblazoned with her deadline dates.
    Jake answered without intonation. “On the back step.”
    Zoe looked. Then looked again to make sure she saw correctly. Sure enough, a floral arrangement in shades of pink sat by the back door. She’d been so focused on Jake and Reynaldo, she hadn’t noticed.
    A pretty amazing feat given the arrangement’s size. The thing was huge. An over-the-top array of roses, calla lilies and delphinium, the kind of bouquet you’d send when trying to impress. Zoe knew only one person who would make such a grand-scale gesture. She slipped the card from its small white envelope.
     
    Need you forever. Love, Paul
     
    “I didn’t know the island had a florist,” she murmured. The lame comment was all she could muster. How had he known where to find her? Certainly not from Caroline.
    “Doesn’t. Came over on the ferry from the mainland.”
    Paul certainly had outdone himself. She’d never seen such an amazing arrangement. The roses were as big as her fist. Her finger traced a pale pink petal. Such a beautiful, delicate flower.
    Too bad he wasted his money.
    Picking up the arrangement, she walked over to the side of her garage.
    And dropped the bouquet in the trash.

CHAPTER SIX
    H ER scalp tingled. Jake stood behind her, staring down. She waited for his comment, his question, whatever. After all, not every day did you get to see a woman trash a three-hundred-dollar floral arrangement.
    He said nothing.
    “I’m going for a walk,” she announced, turning abruptly. She needed fresh air to clear away the scent of roses.
    Unlike the early morning when only a handful of people dotted the shore, the beach at this time of day was full. Or as full as it could be prior to tourist season. At the public end of the strip, the morning’s fishermen had been replaced by a line of multicolored umbrellas and beach towels. Mothers watched toddlers build sand castles. The sound of radios drifted on the wind.
    Zoe headed to her left, where the rocks from the jetty formed a tiered tower. Part way up, they flattened, creating a large overhang. It was hereshe settled, leaning back and letting her legs over the edge. Beneath her feet, the waves crashed over smaller rocks, white foam bubbling into tide pools.
    “Hey.”
    Looking up, she saw Jake approaching, a mug of coffee in his hands. “Took a coffee break,” he said.
    With impressive agility, he ascended the rocks and joined her. Handing her the mug, he settled himself on the rock next to her. When he was settled, she attempted to hand the cup back, only to have him shake his head.
    “Thought you said you took a coffee break.”
    “I did. Didn’t feel like drinking coffee is all.”
    But he’d brought her one. Gratitude, and something else—something stronger—built inside her. She took a sip, hoping it would push away the thickness in her throat. “Funny, I remember these rocks being much taller when I was little,” she said.
    “Things always look different when we’re kids.”
    “True.” She stared into her mug. “Aren’t you going to ask?”
    “Ask what?”
    “Why I threw away the flowers.”
    “Figured you didn’t like pink.”
    If he meant the remark to cheer her up, it worked; she smiled.