Page 6 of Puppy Kisses

“No, thank you. I’d like one of my own people to tend to her.” He began cleaning the worst of the puppy’s wounds, a large abrasion on the downy fur on her belly. He worked gently but firmly, refusing to let the animal squirm her way out of the necessary care.

That was kind of his specialty. Adam Dearborn was the man who got things done—even if it hurt sometimes.

“What she needs is rest, not a bunch of strange people tramping in and out of here,” he added. “It would only scare her. I don’t treat my animals that way.”

“She isn’t your animal.”

He ignored her. “Don’t force any more food on her, please. I think she may have swallowed some rocks.”

“She isn’t your animal,” Dawn repeated, more insistently this time. When he only continued working his hands over the puppy’s body, gently testing her joints and bones for breaks, she asked, “How do you know she ate rocks?”

It had been his intention to tend to the puppy’s wounds and leave Dawn to the full and solitary possession of the couch. He hadn’t made any physical contact with her other than the light brushing of fingertips as she handed over the antiseptic, but he was still acutely aware of her presence. It was impossible not to be. Her body was warm and crackling with energy, her breath disturbing the air around him.

Her body wasalwayswarm and crackling, and her breathalwaysdisturbed the air around him. All she had to do was walk into a room, and Adam forgot about anything and anyone else in it.

Which was why he slid his grip up to hers, his rough, heavily callused palm easily capturing her softer one. He needed to confirm that she was flesh and blood, that her hand, like everyone else’s, was only a hand.

There was no magic to Dawn Vasquez. There was just attraction. It was important that he remember the distinction.

“Feel this?” he asked, pulling Dawn’s hand down the puppy’s bony rib cage to the swell of her stomach. He waited until her fingers ran over the hard protrusions. Like him, she was extraordinarily gentle, unwilling to push too hard for fear of hurting the animal more than she had to. “There are a few of those lumps shifting around in here. If she was hungry enough, she might have eaten them to try and fill her stomach. I’m assuming you found her abandoned on the side of the highway somewhere?”

Dawn’s hand twitched but didn’t pull away. “Yes. Abandoned.”

“The rocks are probably blocking her digestive tract, which is why she’s not eating. Marcia will be able to tell us whether or not they’ll need to be surgically removed, but I prefer not to resort to such extreme measures on one of my animals unless I have to.”

“You mean, you’d prefer not to resort to such extreme measures on one ofmyanimals unless you have to.”

“I think I’ll call her Methuselah,” he said with a bland disregard for Dawn’s protest. “Because of how wrinkly all the fur around her neck is.”

“You can’t name a puppy that! She’s only a few months old.”

He rose to his feet and eased the hunch in his shoulders with a shrug. The gesture was largely for show—a way of proving to Dawn that he felt nothing for either of the soft, pliant creatures currently seated on his couch—but it also had the benefit of easing an ache in his upper back. He’d spent most of the morning reinstalling that damned fence by the west field. He hadn’t been kidding about the rogue cow.

“I suppose I could name her Dawn, too, but that might be taking things too far, even for me. One woman and one cow is more than enough already.” He turned toward the sound of the front door. “Oh, Zeke, are you back? I hope you didn’t take up too much of Sheriff Jenkins’s time. Dawn and I were just discussing what we should name my new service puppy. I don’t think she approves of me calling her Methuselah.”

His brother chuckled. “I don’t know that I approve, either. We have enough Biblical names in this family already. You and Phoebe got off easy, but Ezekiel’s a hard thing to live up to.” Then Zeke hesitated and added, “Uh, Adam, about the puppy…”

“She couldn’t have come at a better time.” Adam nodded in Zeke’s direction. “As soon as the expansion plans go through, it’ll almost double the amount of land we need to cover in a day. A service dog will be a big help. Thank you for thinking of me—both of you. It means a lot.”

This last part was said with the sole intention of getting a reaction out of Dawn. It was beneath him, he knew, but he couldn’t resist. He’d obviously been used as a Get Out of Jail Free card—a way for Zeke and Dawn to avoid a speeding ticket—and nothing more. The least they could do was admit it.

“Well, the thing is…” Zeke began in a voice tinged at the edge with sheepishness. “See, we were… Um, it was just…”

“Yes?” Adam prodded. “Were you afraid I’d balk at the puppy’s condition? Is that it? Don’t worry. I’m notthathard-hearted.”

“Actually—”

“Actually, you can’t have her,” Dawn interrupted before Zeke could make another feeble attempt at explaining himself. “Even if I were willing to give her up, which I’m not, she’s nowhere near qualified enough to become a service puppy.”

“Well, well.Nowwho’s being hard-hearted?”

“Adam!” Dawn released a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Besides, I thought you said you prefer golden retrievers for this kind of work,” he said. When Dawn didn’t answer right away, he added helpfully, “Because of her concentration and intelligence. That’s what you told Sheriff Jenkins, wasn’t it? I’m sure I could call him back to confirm.”

The threat hung lightly in the air, flittering around them as Dawn weighed her options. As far as Adam could tell, there were only two. She could admit the truth—that she’d used him and his blindness to get out of a tight spot—or she could dig in her heels and brazen it out.

She chose the exact one he’d assumed she would.