Assuming there was a next time.
He nodded toward the sign on the lawn advertising free puppies. “Have you had many takers?”
She nodded. “We’ve got a waiting list.”
“I gave them their shots, they’re ready to go. You’ll be glad to get your life back,” he said, as if her life was filled with thrills and excitement whenever she wasn’t dog-sitting.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Rachel hadn’t had a date in more months than she could remember. “I’d still feel better if you’d accept some kind of payment.” Her mouth went dry when his gaze slid over her lips.
When she blushed, Jared felt like a fraud—a lecherous one at that. The urge to kiss her soft pink mouth had come out of nowhere. He cleared his throat. “It’s not necessary.”
When Dylan turned up with the ball, Jared said, “Before I forget, there is one other thing. I waited for your mom to get home.” He’d left a box in the back of his truck parked in the shaded driveway. Now, he reached in and pulled out a squirming ball of fur. Jared set it on the ground where it shook itself into a floppy-eared black and white puppy. “Remember this little one?”
“He made it!” Dylan’s voice held awe.
At the tone, Jared’s grin grew wider. “He had a little trouble at first, but he’s a fighter.” He didn’t reveal the lengths to which he’d gone to save the puppy. There was little he could do for Dylan, but using his veterinary skills was a start.
Dylan nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s a fighter.”
Sunny trotted up. Nose to nose, the big dog and the little one got acquainted. “Sunny adopted the pups,” Dylan explained.
The new pup broke away to explore, sniffing at the long grass, darting into the pansies and coming out with yellow pollen on its black nose. When the pup started to dig, Rachel picked it up. “Oh no, you don’t,” she scolded, laughing when a silky pink tongue licked her thumb.
A moment later, she set him down at a safe distance, and the curious pup found another patch of flowers.
Dylan promptly named the puppy “Digger.”
Rachel gave a resigned sigh. Despite all his promises—“not to get attached”—Dylan had given each puppy a name, which Rachel knew would only make it harder when the new owners came to take them away in the next week. There was Bear and Tony and Cindy and Cookie and Pepper—and now Digger.
Just then, a car pulled up, and a rough-looking man got out. “Sign says you got dogs,” he said. “I need a good watchdog. Are they going to be big?”
Jared said, “Small to medium-size.” He didn’t like the man’s attitude and was tempted to send him on his way.
Rachel beat him to it. “I’m sorry, they’re all taken.”
The man nodded toward Digger. “What about that one?”
Rachel scooped up the puppy. “We’re keeping him.”
At that, Dylan grinned from ear to ear. Jared just stood there as a slow smile crept over his face. Damned if she hadn’t surprised him. So Rachel had a heart—she was just afraid of losing it—but under the right conditions, she would take a risk and “get attached.”
After the man left in a huff, Dylan threw his arms around Rachel. “Thanks, Mom!” The boy was obviously delighted, and Jared could see why. Rachel was the kind of mother any boy would love, which only made Jared’s dilemma worse.
Rachel was conscious of Jared’s undivided attention. He warmed her with a smile that she imagined meant approval.
“I’ll have to send more of my patients to you for some TLC.”
“No, thanks, I think we’ve met our quota.” Rachel set the puppy on the ground. “Supper is in one hour,” she called after Dylan as he ran off with Sunny and the pup trailing behind.
She turned back to Jared. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
When he accepted, she hid her pleasure. The feeling came from deep inside, a warm tide, like a well that couldn’t be emptied. He followed her into the house.
Her voice even, she said, “How’s business?”
“Things are slow. We’ve got one in-patient, a turtle with an infected shell. He’s on antibiotics. The ferrets went home last week. However, there is a prize pregnant cow that’s gone past her delivery date.”
A laugh escaped her. “Sounds promising.”
He grinned back. “Could be twins—that would mean a bonus.”
“One would hope.” Disarmed by his humor, Rachel relaxed her guard. He obviously liked children—he was saving turtles and owls. How dangerous could he be?
Jared looked around the small front hall with its neat coatrack. Curious about the way she and Dylan lived, he felt like a fraud, a man on a mission to uncover the past. A narrow flight of stairs wound its way upward on the right; and to the left, an arched door opened into the cozy living room. Dominated by shades of yellow accented by pale greens and blues, the room was filled with plants. A partially finished jigsaw puzzle took up most of the coffee table. Tropical fish swam companionably in a fish tank. The glass sparkled. “Nice,” he said, taking in the bright atmosphere, slowly absorbing the meaning. Home.
Aware of the breathless quality of her voice, Rachel said, “The kitchen’s through here.” Why had she weakened and invited him inside? Now, she didn’t know what to do with him. She reached into a cupboard. If only she had instant coffee…but all she had was regular ground.
While he wandered around, looking at Dylan’s drawings displayed on the refrigerator door, Rachel measured coffee grounds and water. It took a while for things to percolate. She wasn’t sure what they talked about, but eventually the coffee was done. She reached for her mother’s fine cups and saucers—thin china decorated with cabbage roses, etched in gold, and breakable. They weren’t valuable—except to Rachel. In fact, she usually reserved them for very special occasions. Feeling bemused at the realization, she stopped, then firmly reached for a pair of solid earthenware mugs.
She poured coffee. “Sugar, cream?”
“Yes, please.”
Rachel joined him at the round wooden table. Set in a cozy alcove, it suddenly felt much cozier. She lifted her cup to her lips, and took a cautious sip.
He took a swallow, lifted an eyebrow. “This isn’t bad.”
“What did you expect?” She needed to lighten the atmosphere, which had grown oddly heavy.
“Not a great cup of coffee,” he countered with an easy careless smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Rachel suspected a lot of things came easily to Jared Carlisle, perhaps too easily. “I’d almost forgotten,” she said, searching for a safe neutral topic. “Earlier, you said you wanted to discuss something.”
At the reminder, Jared hesitated. “It was nothing important,” he said at last. He’d almost forgotten his mission. Was he prepared to reveal his suspicions?
His gaze returned to the drawings on the refrigerator. He could remember his own mother displaying his childish artwork. He supposed that’s what mothers did. Funny, how he’d forgotten that. But he’d never forgotten coming home from school one day and finding her gone—and no one pinned his drawings up anymore. At the time, he was seven years old, not much younger than Dylan. All these years later, he still felt a pang of regret. A boy needed a mother. Jared knew firsthand how it felt to lose one. If Dylan was his son, Rachel was part of the package.
Turning away from that troubling thought, trying to sound casual, he said, “Raising a young boy on your own can’t be easy. Have you always been responsible for Dylan?”
Suddenly