“Lucky girl. At least we don’t have to worry about her getting enough exercise, regardless of the weather.” Rylie stepped back to make room for him. “I wondered how Mrs. Prescott could be feeding her all of those treats she admits to, yet this munchkin stays at a healthy weight.” She leaned over to pick up the little dog that—upon Noah’s entry—had gone straight to her and planted one tiny foot on Rylie’s sneaker.
Noah didn’t miss the move, which struck him as possessive. That left Noah with the uncomfortable feeling that the dog could sense his conflicted feelings about Rylie. Or was the animal sticking close to her because she hated the idea of having to ride home with him? At this rate the spoiled fur ball was going to have Rylie thinking he was abusive.
“She also likes to chase around the pool,” he continued, “while my mother has her therapy.”
With a sympathetic sound, Rylie said, “I heard about what happened to Mrs. Prescott—and the terrible loss you both suffered. I’m so sorry.”
Although he nodded his thanks, he had to look away after feeling an unexpected pulling in his midsection, as though someone was tethering them together via invisible strings connected to each of their ribs. In self-defense, he changed the subject. “This is quite a setup you have here. When I heard you had been working out of an RV, I pictured something less...comfortable.”
Rylie glanced around, her expression reflecting her own sense of good fortune. “A business contact of my parents helped me get a great price and terms. It’s a repo,” she told him. “I didn’t really need anything so big, let alone lavish, but the extra space would have come in handy if Doc hadn’t been so generous in letting me use the clinic’s facilities. But you never know. The clinic business keeps growing, and if things get too crowded for him—especially if he adds staff—then I’ll have to work in here again.”
Taking that in to mull over later, Noah’s gaze zeroed in on the master bedroom at the far end of the RV. He saw the king-size bed with the blue-and-purple bedspread and small berg of matching pillows piled against the sapphire-blue, cushioned headboard. It was too easy to imagine Rylie lying there, and when his wayward thoughts started to edit what she might—or might not—wear to bed, his body stirred with hunger.
“Do you have our bill ready?” he asked, abruptly.
“Oh...of course,” Rylie said, immediately contrite. “Sorry for wandering on. I know you have to get back. Actually, I have another appointment in a few minutes myself.” She went to the dinette table and picked up the invoice lying there beside a half-eaten salad. “I gave your mother a discount because this is Bubbles’s third visit in just over a month, meaning there’s less matting than I usually have to deal with. Also please let her know that Bubbles’s nails didn’t need trimming this time. You’re such a good girl,” Rylie cooed to the dog.
After eyeing the fresh coat of purple nail polish on the dog’s toes, Noah saw Bubbles lick Rylie’s chin, then give him a look as though telepathically saying, See? This is how I like to be treated.
Accepting the bill, Noah reached for his billfold. As he handed Rylie the correct amount, he asked, “Would you mind bringing her to my car? I can really do without the ladies in the courthouse snickering at me when I return smelling like I’ve been hanging around a perfume counter.”
Choking, Rylie insisted, “You’re exaggerating. I can’t handle excessive scents myself, nor can Bubbles. I use a very light touch on my animals.”
Some inexplicable something egged him on, and Noah intentionally rubbed the tip of his nose. “If that’s restrained to you, we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“Don’t listen, cutie.” Rylie cuddled Bubbles again. “He’s determined to try to make us think the problem is with us. I think you smell as delicious as your name, and your mommy will, too.” As the dog reached up and touched a paw to her cheek, Rylie laughed in pleasure. “You are a heart stealer, yes, you are. Let me just stamp your bill as paid,” she told Noah, “and—”
“That’s not necessary.”
“But I always make sure your mother has a detailed—”
“I’m handling this for her.”
Rylie’s face lit with pleasure. “How nice of you.” Leading the way, she opened the door and took care going down the steps. “Gotta be careful with our precious cargo, huh, sweetie?” she crooned to the little dog. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?” she added to Noah.
“It’s hot for autumn.”
“But the evenings are so nice. Doc has a couple of kenneled dogs this week and he’s letting me walk them. Then they get to spend the night with us. As you saw, there’s plenty of room, and they enjoy it so much more than being locked up in pens.”
Noah lost the battle with his curiosity. “Us?”
“MG and me. My dog.”
“And MG stands for...?”
“Mommy’s Girl. They told me when I got her from the shelter that they’d named her Marnie, but it was soon apparent that we were going to be very close, and she’s seriously maternal. She instinctively steps in to help whenever she decides I need her assistance with an animal.”
Noah was sorry he’d asked. Sure, he believed there were special relationships between some pets and their owners, but Mommy’s Girl? That was laying it on a bit thick.
Unlocking the BMW with his remote, he opened the passenger door for Rylie. Looking over the hood of the car, he considered the grassy area and the woods beyond it where she said she walked. It was more a wild pasture than a park. “Aren’t you concerned about snakes, or getting eaten up by chiggers and mosquitoes?” Texas also had more than its share of wild hogs, coyotes and an increasing number of abandoned dogs, too, he thought.
“We haven’t been bothered yet,” she said, shrugging. “Maybe there’s safety in numbers. In any case, I tend to take a live-and-let-live approach. It’s more important that the dogs get some attention and exercise. They’re missing their homes, and some are overweight, so being constricted in pens for days is just unhealthy.” She began to put the dog on the BMW’s black leather seat only to rear back. “Oh! Please put on the air conditioner and give us a moment for things to cool down. She’ll get burned.”
“Try putting her on the floorboard.” When he saw her stubbornly resist, Noah did get into the car and start the engine. Sure, it had gotten warmer in the short time that he’d been in her RV, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been in July or August. As the vents quickly blew cold air through the inside of the vehicle, he reiterated, “The floorboard, please. I don’t want claw runs in the leather.”
“But she won’t be able to see, and it’s a rougher ride down there.”
The Mother Teresa of furry creatures really was beginning to push his buttons. “For crying out loud, this car’s shock absorbers are the embodiment of foreign skill in cushion and spring. She has no idea what rough is.”
With a sigh of exasperation, Rylie said to the dog, “Your big brother is determined to be disagreeable, isn’t he, precious?”
Big brother? “Okay, that’s enough,” Noah said, having had his fill of this nonsense. “Put the damned dog in now. Please.” He had to get out of there before she fried what brain cells he had left.
With a mournful glance, Rylie did as ordered. Carefully shutting the door, she backed away.
As Noah cut a sharp U-turn, he decided he was going to tell his mother that her pet’s groomer—cute as she was—was a nut job who needed a reality check. There were