So, first step, find a place to stay. Tomorrow, get a job. She rolled her eyes. Mannaggia. Damn me, for sure. This so wouldn’t go over well with Mama, who’d thrown a fit about Frankie taking vacation time. “You’re needed to be the liaison with the runway show next week. Some of our girls need your handholding. And who will deal with the fighting backstage? And that new photographer has everyone in tears. How can you just walk off and leave me saddled with all these problems?”

Frankie’s jaw firmed. All those problems could be handled by a perfectly capable staff. No one was indispensable.

And I haven’t had a vacation…well, ever.

It hurt that her mother thought she was being selfish.

Of course, she didn’t know that Frankie was here to help Kit. That Kit was in trouble. She wouldn’t understand. Over the years, Mama had cut Kit to the quick with valid, but tactless comments about her poor taste in men. Kit was sensitive to criticism—and when this was over, she wouldn’t need Mama’s “helpful” remarks reminding her of another mistake.

At least Papà had been supportive of Frankie taking time off and had chided Mama about treating Frankie more like an employee than a daughter. But that was Papà; he had a soft heart. When she was little, she’d wished he’d been home more. But famous photographers traveled.

And took pictures of gorgeous Norwegian models and fell in love. The thought still made Frankie laugh. Two more unsuited people could never be found, yet, somehow, they were still married.

Frankie sighed. It’d be nice to have someone she could talk to about this mess. Someone to cuddle with at night. Someone who might even reassure her that everything would be all right.

Because right now, she was feeling really alone—and drowning in doubt.

What might those people do to Kit if Frankie made too many waves?

Chapter Three

Be the person your dog thinks you are. ~ JW Stephens

Blood singing in his veins, Bull was on the cooling-off portion of his run. This was his favorite place to jog—from his roadhouse, down to the lakeshore, through the town park to Dante’s cabins and back. It was off-season with the number of tourists beginning to pick up.

Dante’s pickup and a sedan had been parked by the four cabins, so the old Okie might have a new renter.

Gorgeous Friday. Under a vivid blue sky, the sun glinted off the bold line of the Kenai Mountains. Bear Mountain and Russian Mountain to the south were spectacular and so white he had to squint his eyes.

The temp was mid-thirties with air crisp enough to crackle—exactly what he needed to clear away the remnants of battle nightmares from the night before.