“Hayley called?”
She shook her head. “Quinn, actually.”
That his boss had made the call himself didn’t surprise him; Quinn never considered much of anything in the way of work beneath him. It was one of the many reasons he was so effective. Not to mention that he was stark, raving crazy about Hayley and would lay down and die for her if necessary. Teague envied him that. If it wasn’t so clear the feeling was mutual he might envy him Hayley as well; she was a remarkable woman. The kind Teague had begun to think didn’t really exist.
“I’m Laney Adams,” she said, and held out a hand as she came to a halt before him. He took it, firmly but not crushingly. Shaking hands with a woman was always tricky, or seemed so to him. Too strong and they winced, too easy and some seemed to get offended. Laney did neither, she just met his grip and released after a solid shake.
And didn’t seem to feel at all the jolt of awareness that had gone through him at the contact.
He quickly shook it off. Hadn’t rained much yet, so it was probably just some residual charge of static electricity.
Cutter rose and went to stand beside her, nuzzling the hand he’d just shaken in the way usually reserved for cheering humans up; obviously the dog liked and trusted this woman, and Teague had learned to trust the dog’s judgment about people.
“You work with Hayley?” she asked.
Teague nodded in answer to her question. And couldn’t help noticing the woman’s eyes and nose were slightly reddened.
“Dog soap get to you?”
Startled, she swiped at her eyes. “I... No. It’s fine.” She looked away, then down. “I’m sorry, I forgot his collar and tag. I’ll go get it.”
She turned on her heel and left quickly. To his surprise, Cutter followed her, although he wouldn’t put it past the dog to have understood about the collar.
He barely had time to appreciate the way she moved when it all tumbled together in his head. Red eyes and nose, that undertone in her voice, and the way Cutter had been nosing at her hand...
It wasn’t soap. She’d been crying. Unease spiked through him. Female tears unnerved him, like most guys. They made him start looking for something to fix, to make it better, and too often there wasn’t anything.
He heard the slight clink of the boat-shaped tag as the now-dressed Cutter approached. According to Hayley, he’d shown up on her doorstep with only that tag, engraved with his name, for identification. All her efforts to find his owner had failed, and in the meantime Cutter had settled in and begun to work his special kind of magic on her grief-torn heart.
And now he seemed glued to Laney Adams. When she stopped again, Cutter stayed pressed against her leg. He nuzzled her hand again, and the woman petted his head as if instinctively.
Cutter looked up, his gaze fastened on Teague. He stifled the urge to read “Well? Fix it!” into the dog’s expression, knowing it had to be arising out of his own earlier thoughts.
But there was no denying the intensity of the dog’s steady, unwavering gaze. And in the relatively short time since Cutter had come to Foxworth, they had all learned it was wise not to ignore the determined dog when he got “that look.”
He didn’t want to ask, but did anyway. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You were crying.”
He was a little surprised when she didn’t deny it, but simply acknowledged it this time.
“Some women can cry beautifully.” She shrugged. “I’m obviously not one of them.”
He admired her blunt honesty, but felt awkward. He didn’t even know this woman. But Hayley did, she’d said she really liked her, maybe that was why. Friend of a friend in need or something.
He opened his mouth to ask “Are you all right?” then shut it again. Obviously she wasn’t all right, or she wouldn’t have been crying. Feeling a bit proud of himself for having avoided a stupid question, he felt even better when she leaned down to scratch Cutter’s ear briskly.
“I’ll see you next time, you lovely boy,” she said.
There, another bullet dodged, Teague thought.
“Let’s go, dog,” he said.
Cutter didn’t move.
“Hayley’s waiting,” Teague said.
Cutter’s tail wagged, and he gave the softer version of the happy bark he always greeted Hayley with in reaction to the sound of her name. But he didn’t move from Laney’s side. And again he gave Teague that look, that compelling gaze that he had no doubt could drive those sheep right off a cliff if that’s what the dog intended. Not that he ever would. No, Cutter was a softie, always seeming to find the walking wounded, the ones who needed help.
Often, the ones that needed Foxworth-style help.
Cutter gave a short, sharp yip of impatience. Teague drew back slightly. He did not like how this was shaping up.
With a long-suffering sigh, Cutter finally left Laney’s side. Teague let out a long breath of relief. He’d been afraid there for a minute that—
His thoughts were interrupted when the dog, instead of heading for the door, walked behind him and bumped—hard—against the back of his legs. Pushing him rather awkwardly toward Laney.
“Uh-oh.”
The muttered phrase escaped Teague before he could stop it.
“Something wrong?” Laney asked. “Hayley already paid the bill, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I only wish it was that simple,” Teague said, staring down at Cutter, who seemed to realize he’d finally gotten the message. The dog walked back to Laney, sat this time, and looked back at Teague expectantly.
“He seems restless,” she said. “He’s usually pretty laid-back with me.”
Teague looked back at her. Her eyes were the color of cinnamon, he thought. He hadn’t noticed that before.
“Laid-back? I’d have to see that to believe it,” Teague said wryly. Then, with a smothered sigh, he gave in to the inevitable. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing.” She had herself together now, and clearly wasn’t inclined to discuss whatever had been bothering her with a total stranger. He appreciated that, understood it, and normally would have let it end there.
Except that when Cutter got involved, normal wasn’t a word that got used very often.
Chapter 2
Laney inwardly steadied herself. It wasn’t really a lie, she told herself. Not sharing personal pain with a total stranger wasn’t lying. Maybe denying anything was wrong was, but not pouring out her heart to a man she’d never met before was simply reasonable. Even if she was disposed to see him favorably because he worked with Hayley, whom she’d very quickly come to like a great deal.
Now, Hayley’s fiancé, Quinn, was a man she’d found more than a little intimidating the one time she’d met him. But not this man, she thought. In fact, the easy smile, and the way he’d seemed so relieved when she’d refused to talk about the reason for her tears, made him seem much more approachable than his boss.
Not that he wasn’t as attractive, just in a different way. He was a bit taller than she, enough to be appreciated given her own height of five-eight. He looked lean, fit and strong. His eyes were a light, clear blue, and went well with his sandy-brown hair. And besides the nice smile, he had an easy confidence