Though, despite her assurances that she was going home, he had an inkling that she’d continued looking on her own and was mainly set on letting him off the hook. Without doubt, his preference was to stay with Nicole and help, but he didn’t argue. Again—her dog, her choice. Besides which, he had the sense that she needed to cry and wouldn’t do so in front of him or his daughters. None of this stopped him from taking one more trip around the school, just in case Roscoe was ready to be found, before he and the girls went home.
If Nicole hadn’t had any better luck once they parted ways, he knew her plan was to phone the various animal shelters the second they opened today. Perhaps she’d already had good news and would shortly be reunited with her dog. He hoped so.
As if reading his mind, Megan said, “Do you think Miss Bradshaw found Roscoe yet?”
“I don’t know, honey. But it would be really great if she has.”
“We should find out, Daddy,” Erin said. “You should call her and ask. Because if she hasn’t, we can draw posters and put them up all over, so people know to watch for him.”
It wasn’t the worst idea Parker had ever heard. Actually, it was a damn good one. He particularly liked the “you should call her” portion of Erin’s suggestion. Supposing, of course, Nicole’s phone number was listed. “You know, I like that plan, kiddo,” he said to Erin. “Why don’t you two grab the art supplies and start on the posters now? That way, if Roscoe hasn’t been found, we save a little time. And I’ll see if I can get a hold of your music teacher.”
“Okay, Daddy!” Erin shot to a stand. “Come on, Megan! Let’s get the markers and glue and glitter and... Oh, but we don’t have any pictures of Roscoe. We don’t really know what he looks like, just that he’s big and brown, so how can we make signs for people to find him?”
“We can use stickers!” Megan said. “We have lots and lots of puppy dog stickers.”
“But we don’t know if Roscoe looks like any of the dogs on those stickers.” Erin’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “This won’t work without any pictures of Roscoe.”
“Sure it will,” Parker said, automatically offering encouragement. “Think about the problem for a minute. It’s true that we don’t have any photos of Roscoe, but someone else likely has a ton of pictures. Who might that person be?”
“Miss Bradshaw,” Erin and Megan said at the same time.
“That’s right. And I’m sure she’ll let us pick the best one to use.” Assuming she hadn’t already located her missing pooch. “Then we can make however many copies of it we need and glue them to the signs. Just remember to leave a big enough space in the middle when you’re making them, and we’ll be all set. Do you think that will work?”
“Yes!” Megan jumped to her feet and tugged her sister’s arm. “Let’s go get everything and make the best dog signs ever, Erin. For Miss Bradshaw, so she isn’t sad anymore.”
It didn’t surprise Parker that Megan had tuned in to Nicole’s sadness last night or that she wanted to help alleviate that sadness. Both of his daughters tended to be very aware of the people around them and their moods. Probably due to the last weeks of their mother’s life, when the house had been filled with friends and family wanting to say their goodbyes. And while Megan’s personal recollections of her mother were very sparse—almost, sadly, nonexistent—that didn’t mean the experience itself hadn’t carved into her heart, her soul, and etched an indelible mark.
Some moments, some types of pain, were unforgettable. No matter the age.
Parker repressed a sigh and waited for the girls to climb the steps to retrieve the art supplies from the upstairs hall closet before powering on his laptop. It didn’t take long to ascertain that Nicole’s number was not listed or, perhaps, that her number was so new it had yet to make it to the online directories. There were several other Bradshaws, though, and while Nicole hadn’t mentioned her parents’ first names, she had identified her brother as Ryan.
And thankfully, within the half-dozen Bradshaws that were listed, there was only one Ryan. So, hoping he didn’t come off as a crazy stalker, Parker dialed the number and crossed his fingers that Ryan was home. And that he’d either give Parker his sister’s phone number—doubtful, because if some stranger contacted Parker looking for Daisy, no way, no how would he give out her personal information—or be willing to pass on a message to Nicole.
The man answered almost instantly, and after he got over his surprise and had asked several pointed questions, he promised to contact Nicole on Parker’s behalf. Fifteen minutes later, with the girls avidly focused on their Find this Dog! Please! posters, Parker’s phone rang.
It was Nicole. Anticipation of hearing her voice, of possibly seeing her today, sent his pulse into overdrive and his stomach into a series of wicked fast, hard somersaults. Responses that also reminded him of the early days with Bridget, when she’d consumed his thoughts and he’d gathered every strand of his young man’s courage to ask her out for a date.
Yeah, he liked Nicole. A lot, if his body’s reactions were anything to go by—and of course, they were. He’d acted on those instincts with Bridget.
So why wouldn’t he act on them now?
Parker inhaled a stabilizing breath, grinned at his daughters, who were watching him with expectant, eager eyes, and, doing his level best to keep his voice at an even keel, picked up and answered his phone. To talk to the woman he could not get out of his head.
* * *
Why, oh, why had she agreed to let Parker and his daughters come over? Nicole tugged the window’s curtain to the side and peeked out, anxious to start searching for Roscoe. When she contacted the shelters an hour ago, none of them had any dogs that even remotely resembled him. Now at least they had her information. So if he was brought in and had somehow lost his dog tags, she’d be notified. But oh, was she disappointed.
All she could do was get back on the street and scour every nook and cranny. She’d start at the school, follow the same path they had last night and then branch out in a wider circle, asking anyone she came across if they’d seen Roscoe. Certainly, she’d have better luck today.
Ready to get moving, Nicole gathered her coat, gloves and the picture of Roscoe she’d printed from her computer to show people and put them in a neat pile near the front door before returning to her post at the window.
When Ryan had phoned, his initial questions were about her—how was she, how had Roscoe gotten loose?—and then, after he’d expressed his sorrow and concern, he reminded her that he was heading to Rhode Island for a week to spend time with Andi’s family, but offered to stay and help. She appreciated her brother’s willingness to do so but told him he absolutely shouldn’t alter his plans. And that was when he finally gave her Parker’s message.
As he repeated the conversation he’d had with Parker, electricity and anticipation had zinged through her blood in a potent reminder of her attraction. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that the zing itself had felt nice. Thrilling and liberating and so wonderfully normal. It was that zing, that feeling of normalcy, that led her to return Parker’s call immediately, rather than the more sensible approach of waiting until after she’d put in a few hours searching for her dog.
The sound of his voice, calm, steady and confident, somehow strengthened her flagging hope. He’d asked about Roscoe, naturally, and if she’d made any headway with the shelters. She could hear Megan and Erin in the background, their voices almost a high-pitched squeal in their enthusiasm, begging Parker to ask Nicole their questions.