As the boy ruffled the dog’s head, Buddy gave him a sloppy kiss, which caused the kid to laugh. “He likes me.”
“I can see that.”
“I sure wish I had a dog,” the boy said.
“Oh, yeah? Well, it just so happens that Buddy is looking for a home.”
“No kidding?” The boy looked up at him with big, blue eyes, reminding him of one of those trusting expressions Joey, his kid brother, used to flash at him years ago. “You mean Buddy doesn’t live with you?”
“He lives with me, but only until I can find him a home with a real family.”
“Wow. That would be way cool to have a dog of my own. I always wanted one, but when we lived in the city, my dad said it wouldn’t be fair to an animal to keep him cooped up inside all day long. But now I live in a house with a yard.”
A squeaky screen door swung open, and Alice Reilly stepped onto her porch. “Oh, there you are, Lucas. I see you’ve met Dr. Martinez.”
The boy, who’d been looking over his shoulder at Alice, turned back to Rick. “You’re a doctor?”
“Yes. Actually, I’m a veterinarian.”
“Cool. Just like Dr. Doolittle, huh? Buddy’s lucky to have you.”
Rick laughed. “Apparently Buddy isn’t so sure about that. He’s still trying to decide if there’s a better place he’d rather live. Otherwise he’d stay in the yard or on the leash.”
“If I can get permission, I’d like to keep him,” Lucas said. “We might need a need a bigger, better fence, though.”
Rick studied the kid for a moment, noting his short, dark brown hair and the cowlick that grew much like his own. His blue eyes were also a little unusual in those with a darker skin tone. But then again, Rick had Hispanic blood and blue eyes. It happened. He credited his olive complexion to his old man and one of his blue-eyed genes to his Norwegian mother.
Talk about mismatched couples. Rick had given up trying to figure out why his parents had gotten married in the first place, let alone why they’d stuck together long enough to make everyone around them miserable.
He’d always found genetics interesting, but psychology had never been one of his favorite subjects. Maybe because his family had been so screwed up and it would have given the most gifted therapist a headache to try and figure out a way to straighten them out.
Rick glanced across the street at the house where Mallory had just moved in, then back at Lucas.
No, it couldn’t be. Mallory was as honest as the day was long. She wouldn’t have deceived him like that and not said a word about it. Besides, the boy—Lucas—had mentioned having a dad and referred to his parents. And Mallory wasn’t married. At least, she hadn’t been wearing a ring—Rick had checked.
Still, he’d have to find time to talk to her one of these days. There were a few things he’d like to ask her, like why she’d quit taking his calls. And why she hadn’t come back to Brighton Valley when she’d said she would.
If they were going to be neighbors, they’d be running into each other on occasion. And it might be best to address some of that stuff and get it out of the way so they could each move on with their lives and not be uncomfortable around each other.
He’d have to stop by her house another time, when he didn’t have Buddy to worry about.
He’d told her he’d come back and help clean up Buddy’s mess, which would give them an opportunity to talk then. But she’d been pretty adamant about doing it herself. Maybe they both needed to put some time and distance between them until they got used to the idea that they were going to be neighbors.
“Well, I’d better get home,” he told Lucas and Alice. “It’s feeding time at the zoo.”
“You have a zoo?” the boy asked, his eyes growing even wider than before.
Rick laughed. “It feels that way sometimes, but no, it’s not a real zoo. I do have quite a few rescued pets, though. Maybe Alice will bring you to visit someday.”
“Will you, Mrs. Reilly?” Lucas turned to the gray-haired woman, reminding Rick that polite kids didn’t call their elders by their first names. Then again, he’d never had lessons in courtesy when he’d been growing up.
“I’d be happy to,” Alice told Lucas. “That is, as long as our visit is at a convenient time for Dr. Martinez.”
After saying goodbye, Rick took one last glance across the street at Mallory’s new digs before taking Buddy home.
All the while, his thoughts drifted to the baby he and Mallory had conceived, the child they’d given up for adoption. He had no idea if the baby had been a boy or a girl, but he thought about it a lot, especially when he spotted a kid about the age their baby would be now.
He hoped that he or she had ended up with better parents and a much better home than Rick and his brother Joey’d had. The fear that he might not have been able to offer the poor kid much better was the only thing that had forced him to sign the papers and lose all ties to his son or daughter.
Well, that and the fact that Mallory and her grandparents hadn’t left him with any other options.
* * *
That night, after dinner was over and Lucas had bathed, Mallory took her own shower and slipped into her nightgown. Then she grabbed a book from one of the boxes she’d yet to unpack and went to the living room before going to bed.
She hadn’t even read three paragraphs when a knock sounded at the front door.
Who could that be?
A new neighbor, welcoming her to Brighton Valley? It was nearly eight and pretty late for a visit like that. She set aside the novel, got to her feet and headed for the door.
“Yes?” she asked before reaching for the knob.
“Mallory, its Rick Martinez.”
At the familiar sound of his voice, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.
She had no idea how long she stood there, wondering what to say, what to do.
“Are you there?” he asked.
Well, there was no getting around it, she supposed. So she took a deep breath, then slowly blew it out before unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door to see what he wanted.
Tonight, standing under the porch light and wearing a pair of worn denim jeans and a black T-shirt, he didn’t appear anywhere near as conservative as he had earlier. In fact, he reminded her of the rebellious teen she’d once known.
His hair was still damp, as though he, too, had just stepped out of the shower.
“I hope it’s not too late.” His gaze moved from her eyes, to her lips, to her throat and lower, before making its way back to her face.
She’d been so caught up in the way he filled out his T-shirt, in the realization that he still resembled a rebel, either with or without a cause, that she’d forgotten the fact that she was only wearing a flimsy, lightweight robe over a thin cotton gown.
“I...uh...” She fiddled with the lapel, tugging at it, hoping her nipples didn’t show through the soft and comfy but well-worn fabric.
“There are a few things I wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “I think it’ll make running into each other a little easier from now on.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, I know. And you’re probably right. But now really