Page 79 of Puppy Christmas

Ford barely had time to offer his hand to Patrick and give his a perfunctory shake before the buzzing sound of the other man’s phone on the desktop drew his attention.

“That’ll be about tonight,” Patrick murmured after one quick glance at the screen. “If you’ll excuse me…”

He’d already pulled the phone to his ear and offered a brief, “Hang on a second, will you?” before turning to Ford and saying, in a friendly but dismissive tone, “Let me know as soon as you decide about Seattle. I can start getting the referrals going anytime.”

There was nothing for Ford to do after that but to offer his daughter his hand and lead her back out to the waiting room. He was never more grateful for the friendly farewells of the office staff and the delighted exchanges as Emily showed off her service puppy to them. It gave him an opportunity to gather his own thoughts, though what he hoped to do with them once they were all in one place, he had no idea.

Ignore them? Bury them? Throw them into a fiery pit and watch the glorious way they burned?

That last one didn’t seem too bad, especially with Patrick’s words still ringing in his ears.Lila should be done with us by then. She’ll stick to a timeline.The other man might not have meant them maliciously, but Ford was forced to concede their truth. What other choice did he have?

From the outset, Lila had only been offered on loan to them. She was a gift from the powers that be, a bright flash in their lives, a Christmas miracle that would end when the holiday decorations came down. As much as it might pain him to admit it, they’d never made any promises otherwise.

So, yes, the fiery pit seemed the best way to go. The flames wouldn’t remain for long, and the world would probably seem barren and cold once they went out, butd-a-m-nit all toh-e-l-land back—Ford would make sure he enjoyed the warmth while it lasted.

* * *

“I swear to everything that’s sacred, Patrick, if you apologize to me one more time, I’m going to shove this mistletoe down your throat.”

“Mistletoe?” he asked hopefully.

Lila was careful to whisk the plant well away from herself before Patrick got any ideas in his blockish head. As she also pulled the front door open to let him in, she hoped he wouldn’t take too much offense. “It’s not that kind of mistletoe,” she warned.

“What other kind is there?”

“The kind I brew into a poison and force you to drink if I so much as hear the words ‘I’m’ and ‘sorry’ cross your lips in succession.”

Patrick looked at her through narrowed eyes but allowed the threat to stand. And a good thing, too, because she meant every word. She liked Helen enough to set up this not-a-date for her sake, but she had enjoyed just about enough of Patrick’s company to last her forever, thank you very much.

“Are your sisters at home?” he asked as Lila led him into the living room, where she was putting the finishing touches on the holiday decorations. With the exception of the Christmas tree, the halls were just about decked. Sophie and Dawn loved decorating the tree, as all good sisters must, but they always did their best to have plans during the rest of it. That, like so many other unenviable and laborious tasks, fell to Lila. She was the hen baking bread for someone else to enjoy, the ant doing all the work while grasshoppers danced about.

For once, she didn’t mind the distinction. She might not be the wild and carefree woman of every man’s dream, but Ford seemed to enjoy her company. In fact, if his eagerness to go down on her not just one more time, buttwicethe other night was any indication, he enjoyed it quite a bit.

The grasshoppers could have their dance. This ant was doing just fine the way she was.

“Nope. You’re safe.” She handed him the end of a garland and gestured for him to pin it above the doorway. “They won’t attack you tonight.”

He obligingly lifted the garland, but with a sidelong glance of suspicion. “You seem to be in an awfully good mood.”

“That’s because Iamin a good mood,” she replied. “And before you go looking at me like that, no, it’s not because you’re here.”

“I know,” he said, surprising her with a lopsided smile. It was the first time she’d seen him present anything but a perfectly symmetrical front. “It’s Ford, isn’t it?”

Her heartbeat picked up, but she feigned nothing but cool disinterest as she said, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Yes, you do. You’re a lot of things, Lil, but stupid isn’t one of them.”

No, she wasn’t, and neither was Patrick. It was what had drawn her to him from the start, even if all that crossword-puzzle wisdom had started to pall after a while. Giving up the pretense, she allowed her lips to lift in a smile. “What gave me away?”

He took the question seriously, turning to her with an intent expression. “Well, for starters, you’ve never threatened to poison me before.”

An inelegant snort of laughter escaped her. “Maybe not out loud, but believe me, Patrick, I’ve felt that way many, many times.”

His grin answered hers. “I suppose I deserve that.”

“Don’t,” she warned, her hand upflung to stave off what she knew was coming.

“No apologies, I promise,” he said and continued his weirdly intent stare. “I was just going to say that he’s good for you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so… Well,relaxed.”