Page 31 of Leave a Mark
Wren hopped off her table and moved around him until he faced her. “I can help if you need a hand,” she hoarse whispered.
Rocky’s eyes lit up. “Hang on, Shel." He covered the phone and looked at her with hope. “Really? It might take a while.”
“I don’t care,” Wren promised. “What do you need?”
Rocky smiled. “Will you go by the house? Shelby’s taking the girls to ballet, and some guy wants to come over to look at one of Millie’s pups.”
THE PERRODINS LIVEDacross Johnston Street in Arbolada, the neighborhood that hugged the south end of the UL campus. It was Thursday, so Wren had her bike. Now, eager for anything to do, she grabbed Rocky’s house keys, jumped on her beach cruiser, and made the short trip to her boss’s house.
She’d been there half-a-dozen times since Millie, the family’s sweet-natured golden retriever, had her litter. Rocky had been furious when the dog turned up pregnant. As an AKC-registered golden, he’d intended on breeding her in the fall, and he’d kept her kenneled while she was in season, but some sneaky dog must have made his way in.
Wren loved to tease her boss about the illegitimate litter, but even as Rocky grumbled whenever he saw the mismatched brood of golden and black puppies, she knew he thought they were over-the-top cute. Judging by their crimped and curly coats, their sire was probably the black standard poodle that lived across the street.
With her bike parked by the back gate, Wren let herself into the yard. Now that the seven puppies were old enough to wean, Rocky had erected a pig-wire fence around Millie’s kennel. This gave the litter a little more space to run and play, and as Wren approached, all seven furballs scampered to the fence to greet her.
“Hey, baby,” she sang, reaching down to scoop up her favorite, the fat, golden male she’d secretly named Victor. The puppy was in love with her. She was sure of it. He was always the first to run up to her when she visited. Wren didn’t care that he did the same thing with everyone else. Victor loved. Period.
She cradled the little guy in one arm and scratched his belly with her free hand. The pup went limp, his eyes staring up at her as though she were The Great Belly-Scratch Goddess. Wren laughed as someone knocked on the wooden fence.
Millie charged out of the kennel and cleared the pig-wire fence, barking the whole time. The puppies went wild, plastering themselves against the fencing, wailing and barking for their mother. Victor squirmed in her arms to be put down so he could join his brothers and sisters in sounding the alarm.
“Okay, okay.” Wren set the pup down and brushed off her shirt. “Coming!”
Millie waited by the gate, barking steadily and wagging. “Hush, Millie!” Wren scolded. “Sit." The dog gave a whine, but she obeyed, and Wren opened the gate, an apology perched on her lips — until she saw him.
“What the hell?!" She stepped back.
“Oh my God…” Lee stepped forward, the wonder on his face likely rivaling the horror on her own. “What are you doing here?”
Wren’s brows jumped. “Me? I’m helping my boss.” She retreated another step before planting her feet and scowling at him. She refused to be embarrassed in front of him again. He’d seen her nearly naked and helpless in the ER. He’d seen her stranded and alone outside the hospital. But neither low point touched the shame she’d felt when he’d looked at her with pity on his doorstep. She refused to be embarrassed, yet she still was. And it made her angry. “What areyoudoing here?”
Lee blinked. “I want a puppy.”
His look of innocence enraged her. He wasn’t innocent, and he wasn’t supposed to be here. And no one should be allowed to look so flawlessly handsome and flirt and linger and talk about their mothers while secretly dating flawlessly gorgeous bitch queens.
“Well, you can’t have one." The words were out before she could stop them, and she felt a little surge of adrenaline at the outburst. Could she really deny him a puppy? What would she say to Rocky and Shelby?
Lee’s blue eyes lit with amusement, and the beginnings of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I can’t?”
He was going to laugh at her. Again. Wren wanted to punch him in the throat.
“No,” she said, and, because it sounded extra lame, she folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.
He stepped forward again, this time into her personal space, and the amusement in his eyes turned to warmth. To her dismay, Wren sensed that Lee could read everything behind her dark look.
“You may not be glad to see me, Wren, but I’m so glad to see you.” The heat in his gaze made her swallow, so she frowned harder. “I wanted to thank you for the pies. That was the kindest gift I’ve ever received.”
Wren took another step back. He was too close, and his words were too easy to believe. She wanted to accuse him. To condemn him. To launch herself into his arms. To burst into tears. Instead she forced her expression to go blank.
“No thanks necessary.” She shrugged. “It was no big deal.”
“It was a big deal to me,” he said, pinning her with earnest eyes. “And they were delicious. They tasted just like my mom’s, and she’s been gone since I was ten.”
Ouch.
She watched him swallow this time, old grief pinching the corners of his eyes. If she wasn’t careful, his sadness might melt her ire. Clearly, Wren couldn’t trust herself around Dr. Hawthorne. She needed to be done with this so she could get some distance.
“I’m glad you liked them.” She meant to sound detached, but she heard the softening in her own voice. Wren pressed ahead. “So, do you want a puppy?”
