Chance's Joy. Patricia Thayer

up the brown one, but the yellow dog began to whine. So Joy scooped them both up. Big mistake. They were all over her, and she ended up sitting down on the floor, allowing them to have their way with her. It wasn’t until she discovered Chance had been watching her antics that she sobered.

      “Which one is my dog?”

      “You tell me,” Chance said, his arms folded over his chest. “They were the last two of the litter.”

      “You mean I have to choose?” She eyed the pair, then looked at him. “Which do you think?”

      He knelt down beside her and reached for the blond dog, scooping her up in his large hand. “This little lady has clear eyes. She’s got a good disposition, too.” He set her down, then held up the brown one. “This girl is the runt of the litter. Out of the two, the blonde will probably be a prettier dog, but sometimes the littlest works the hardest to please and is the most loyal.” His eyes locked with Joy’s, and she felt her pulse take off.