Page 22 of Puppy Kisses

Me too, girl, he thought.Me too.

That was the problem with being rescued—with being loved. Once you got used to things like soft touches and family gathered around the dinner table, it was hard to let go of them again.

Which was why, he knew, it was so important not to get used them in the first place.

Chapter 5

Dawn made it through a whole week of puppy training before she noticed the truck following her home.

The summer days were long this time of year, so the sun was still dangling above the horizon when she set out. That was part of the reason it took so long to notice the truck. The light of the setting sun shone directly in her rearview mirror, making it impossible to see much of anything in the background.

The other part wasn’t so easily defined. If she had to choose, she’d say it had to do with her reluctance to leave Dearborn Ranch behind for the weekend. There had been no opportunity for she and Adam to do anything more than work with the puppies, and the amount of sexual tension between them was becoming downright painful, but it had been a strangely good week all the same.

Agreatone, actually—the best she’d had in a long time. She’d been busy and active and, well, appreciated.

Her sisters would say that it was the last of those things—the appreciation—she liked the most, but that was only because they’d never understood her need to always be going and doing, to throw herself wholeheartedly into whatever project came her way. She had the sinking suspicion that Adam didn’t understand it, either, but that was okay. No one ever had.

Impulsivewas the term her parents used.Tempestuouswas the one coined by a high school English teacher.

Too muchwas the one preferred by everyone else.

In the mood of abstraction that followed such a profound revelation, it was no wonder she missed sight of the truck at first. Her car zipped down the highway toward Spokane without a care, taking the most direct route home without regard for the consequences.

“Oh shit.” She touched the brakes as soon as she realized she was being followed, both her heart and her body giving a lurch. The truck slowed at the exact same rate before giving a warning flash of its lights.

It was impossible for her to make out the shape of the body in the driver’s seat or the exact model of the truck, but she had no doubt it was No-Pants Shotgun. He’d probably been lying in wait for a sight of the getaway car that had stolen his puppy.

Instinct warned her to flip a U-turn and hightail it back to the Dearborn Ranch, where Zeke and Adam were on hand to provide protection of the strong, male variety. Common sense, however, told her to do the exact opposite. Heading to Dearborn Ranch would only give Gigi’s location away. No-Pants obviously had no idea where they were holding his animal, or he’d have done something about it already.

Dawn wasn’t about to enlighten him. Not when Gigi had been curled up so happily in Uncle’s embrace. Not when the sores on her stomach were finally starting to heal.

“You won’t have a chance to hurt that animal again,” she said.

With her heart in her throat, she stepped on the gas, her speed rising accordingly. If Sheriff Jenkins happened by, he would probably takeherlicense away this time, but that was a risk she was willing to take. Especially since the truck’s lights flashed again in an ominous warning.

Oh, yeah.An officer of the law would come in handy right about now.

At such high speeds, Dawn had to pay close attention to the road in front of her. It was impossible to follow the truck’s every movement in her rearview mirror. She knew he was there, though, weaving in and out of traffic, passing other cars like they were toys.

Please don’t crash, she told herself.

Please don’t shoot, she told the truck.

For the longest time, she wasn’t sure which catastrophe would be worse, so she focused on avoiding both. She barely acknowledged the scenery around her, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. It was so fixed, in fact, that she wasn’t sure when she lost the truck. All she knew was that when she drew closer to a gas station crowded with evening commuters, she allowed herself a moment to pause, breathe, and look around.

The truck was nowhere to be seen.

With a pounding heart, she pulled in to the nearest pump, her hands firmly clutching the steering wheel. She didn’t seem able to let go. The adrenaline that had carried her through the chase began to wane, leaving her feeling shaky and empty.

It spiked again when an older gentleman knocked on her window, his face peering anxiously in.

“Hey, lady…you okay?” he asked, his voice muted by the glass. “You tore in here pretty fast.”

Dawn noticed his blue-collared shirt with the gas station logo and relaxed. Rolling down the window, she took a deep breath and said, “Sorry about that. I was in a bit of a hurry.”

“Then why are you just sitting in your car?”

There was no good answer for that, so she did what she usually did—told him the truth. “I was being chased by a crazed man in a rusty, dilapidated truck. He’s seeking vengeance for the puppy I stole.”