Page 12 of Puppy Kisses

“I just think you adopting a pet isn’t a good idea right now,” Lila said in a neat side step of the actual issue. “Give me a few more weeks, okay? I’m working on a few things to take some of the pressure off you, but I can’t make any promises yet.”

“Of course,” Dawn replied, the words rising automatically to her lips. Her sisters were so content—sohappy—that it would only be cruel to get in their way. “And you’re right. I’m sure the mood will pass. You know how I get when I’m planted in one place for too long. I’m probably restless.”

“Restless?” Lila echoed.

“I’m a free spirit, remember?” Dawn gave an airy wave of her hand. “I go where the wind takes me. I can’t be tied to one place—or one person—for too long, or I start to get twitchy.”

Dawn had no way of knowing if Lila bought her lie or not, since Uncle chose that moment to signal for a potty break. Latching on to the opportunity, Dawn promised to close up the kennel for the night so her sister could get home to her family.

As soon as Lila bore herself away, Dawn clipped a leash to the puppy’s collar and led him outside, talking to him all the while. Since she didn’t want to dwell on the unsatisfying conversation with her sister, most of what she said was a running dialogue of nonsense about what the dog could expect out of life on the Dearborn Ranch.

“Adam won’t be cruel to you or anything,” she said as Uncle circled his favorite spot to relieve himself. “In fact, he’s inordinately kind to everyone and everything he considers to be under his care. But don’t expect him to show you affection or, God forbid, a glimpse of what goes on inside his head. It’s all business with him.”

In reply, Uncle released a long stream from beneath his leg.

“You’re all business, too, it seems. You two should be very happy together. You can spend long evenings discussing rural politics and steer poundage.”

Uncle twitched his nose.

“It’s better than it sounds,” Dawn promised. “There’s something very soothing about his voice. Now, come on back into the kennel. It’s off to bed with you. We have to get an early start in the morning if we’re going to rescue Gigi before she makes the mistake of growing attached to him.”

She thought of the way she’d left the golden retriever—all curled up in the corner of Adam’s couch, her head burrowed into the fold of his strong arms—and added, “Believe me when I say that there will be no saving her after that.”

* * *

“No.”

“His name is Uncle, and he has the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a dog. I tried putting mascara on him once, but Lila yelled at me before I got the cap off the wand.” Dawn paused. “You have awfully long eyelashes, too. Would you let me put some on you?”

Adam ignored the sultry, teasing note in Dawn’s voice and shoved his pitchfork into the bale of hay at his feet. The satisfactory rustle of straw against metal was matched by the heavy weight that pulled at his arms as he lifted, heaved, and tossed the bale down from the truck. It might have seemed careless of him, to hoist seventy-five pounds onto the ground near where Dawn and her long-lashed companion stood, but Adam had long ago learned how to perfect his aim.

Granted, it had taken him about three years and a hell of a lot of missed landings, but Adam was nothing if not determined. He’d found that for most chores around the ranch, he was perfectly capable of doing things without assistance. It was like that with everything, really. For as long as he could remember, being blind had just been a way of life. He could go almost anywhere he wanted and perform almost any task he set his mind to. He needed a little more time to get the process down, that was all.

Fortunately, time was the one thing he had in abundance. Hours of it, in fact, long stretches of big, empty—

“The least you could do is come down and meet him face-to-face,” Dawn said, interrupting him before he had a chance to grow morose. “Rejection is always easier to handle when it’s personalized.”

With a sigh, Adam stabbed his pitchfork into the last of the hay bales and hopped down from the loading bay. There was nothing else hecoulddo. He’d brought this on himself when he agreed to this scheme in the first place. He’d hoped he’d have at least twenty-four hours before Dawn descended on him in full training glory, but she’d come all this way. He might as well make the best of it.

“What would you know about rejection?” he asked.

Dawn didn’t hesitate. “Oh, you’d be surprised. For reasons I haven’t been able to work out yet, some men seem to take one look at me—figuratively speaking, that is—and decide they’d rather spend their nights wrestling alligators.”

“At least when you wrestle an alligator, you know what the risks are.” He matched his tone to hers, all bland friendliness. “Dismemberment, disembowelment, death…”

A laugh caught in her throat. “All of which are preferable to me, I presume.”

He hunched one shoulder in a shrug and drove a hand deep into his pocket. In the normal way of things, he wasn’t a man given to fidgeting, but something about being around Dawn always made him acutely aware of his hands. They twitched and tingled and felt about three times their normal size.

“You’re the one who introduced alligators into the conversation,” he said somewhat gruffly. “I would have suggested bedding down with something safer. A grizzly bear, perhaps.”

“I think I prefer the alligator, thanks. They make such lovely shoes.” Her laughter sounded again. “Adam Dearborn, allow me to introduce you to Uncle. Uncle is a purebred Great Dane, and he comes from parents who have supplied half a dozen other service puppies to us over the years. He’s gray all over—even his eyes, which, in addition to having long eyelashes, are droopy and beautiful.”

“Beautiful, droopy eyes. How helpful on a ranch.”

“He’ll also grow to be the size of a pony and will be able to outrun every man, woman, and cow on this place. So don’t turn your nose up at him yet.”

“I told you—I’m happy with Methuselah.” Despite his words, he crouched down and extended a hand, holding it there until he felt a tentative, wet puppy nose touch his fingers. “Hello, Uncle. I’m sure you’re everything that’s been promised, but I have a dog already.”