He knew he’d located the right address when he saw two ambulances among the cars parked along the street. Apparently everyone who’d been part of the rescue had been invited.
One of the firefighters answered the door chime, a beer in hand and a golden retriever, with a silky coat that gleamed as if just shampooed, at his heels. “Come on in. We’re out back. Dane Garrison here. And my hound is Cinnamon. I know we were in your office, but I didn’t get your name the other day.”
“Ryan Halloran.” This was the first time he’d seen Garrison without his helmet and his dark, Hollywood good looks struck a chord in his breast. His photo could have been on Ryan’s office wall with the other movie idols. “Maybe you could give this to the host with my compliments.” He handed over two brown bags. “Since B
