Kitabı oku: «Bargaining for Baby / The Billionaire's Baby Arrangement», sayfa 5

What was this? She’d wanted to believe he was a gentleman. An enigma, certainly, but honorable. Yet, here he was, blatantly hitting on her.

She squared her shoulders. “I’m sure your fiancée wouldn’t approve of your suggestion.”

His advance stopped and his jaw jutted. “I spoke with Tara this morning. I was wrong to consider marrying her. I said we should stay friends.”

Maddy’s thoughts began to spin. Clearly he’d broken off plans with Tara not only because of their embrace last night but because he had every intention of following that kiss up with another.

Whether he was spoken for or not, it wasn’t happening. She hardly knew this man. While she was physically attracted to him—shamefully so—she wasn’t even sure she liked him. And if he thought she was the kind to cave to temptation and fall into bed with someone for the hell of it, he was sadly mistaken.

“Jack, if this has anything to do with what happened between us last night … I mean, if you’re thinking that maybe—”

“I’m thinking that while you’re here, you might as well experience everything there is to offer. This is Beau’s new home and you’re our guest.”

Was she a guest or, more than ever, a challenge?

Even as the consequences of such a thought burrowed in to arouse her, she shook her head.

“I’m sorry but I won’t be attending any gala. I’m not here on vacation. It’s not fair to leave Cait with Beau.”

“You’re going to have to leave Beau soon enough.”

His thoughtful look—that fundamental statement—knocked her off balance and her hand, holding the wool, flattened on the table to steady her tilting weight.

Soon enough she would be gone. Depending on what lay behind her father’s ominous text message, perhaps sooner than expected. Her pragmatic side said she should be grateful that Cait was so good with the baby and happy that Jack seemed to be resolved to forge a relationship with Beau. Happy her life would be going back to normal. back to Sydney at this crucial stage in her career.

“You’ll need to pack a bag,” he said. “It’s a half hour flight from here.”

Maddy’s thoughts skipped back to the present. But he’d lost her. Half an hour’s flight? He was still talking about that gala?

“Why would I need a bag?”

“Simple.” He stepped out from the shadows and a jagged streak of light cut across his face. “You and I will be staying the night.”

Six

She’d been wrong. Jack wasn’t self-assured. He was plain-and-simple arrogant.

To think he expected her to not only attend this gala affair with him, but also stay the night, made Maddy more determined than ever to stand her ground. She wasn’t going. Fantasizing about throwing self-control to the wind and submitting to Jack’s smoldering advances was one thing. Agreeing to spend the night together was quite another.

If it’d been any other man, she’d have laughed in his face. Or slapped it. But Jack wasn’t any other man. He was a man of action who didn’t see a thing wrong with going after what he wanted.

And it seemed he wanted her.

Thankfully during the drive back to the house he didn’t bring the subject up again, although she was certain he hadn’t taken her objections seriously. He kept sending out the vibes … lidded looks and loaded phrases that left her half dizzy and, frankly, annoyed. Yes, she’d let him kiss her—deeply. Thoroughly. That did not mean she had any intention of acting impulsively and stealing away with him … even if part of her desperately wanted to.

After dinner, Jack took Beau out onto the veranda for some cool air while Maddy stayed behind to help Cait.

“I’m good here,” Cait told her, frothing soapy water at the sink. “You go keep Jock company with the bairn.”

Not on your life. She’d copped more than enough of Jack’s company—and sex appeal—for one day. Maddy flicked a tea towel off its rack.

“I’m sure he’d like time alone with Beau.” She rescued a dripping plate from the drainer and promptly changed the subject to something safer. “I’ve been meaning to say. the nursery’s beautiful. So fresh and the colors are just gorgeous.” Pastel blues and mauves with clouds stenciled on the ceiling and koalas painted on the walls.

Dishcloth moving, Cait nodded at the water. “I washed all the linen and curtains when Jock let me know.”

“Has that room always been the nursery? I mean, was it Jack’s and Dahlia’s room when they were babies?”

Cait’s hands stopped milling around in the suds. “Jock and Sue … his wife … they did it up.”

Maddy digested the information and slanted her head. “I didn’t think Jack wanted a family.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“In not so many words.” When Cait kept her focus on the sink, a dreadful goosebumpy feeling funneled through Maddy’s middle. What wasn’t the housekeeper telling her?

“Cait?” She set the tea towel aside. “What is it?”

After two full beats, Cait slumped and hung her head. “Sue wasn’t the only one who was taken from Jock that night three years ago.”

Maddy absorbed the words. When her mind settled on a plausible explanation, her hip hit the counter and a rush of tingles flew over her scalp.

Oh God. She closed her eyes and swallowed. “There was a baby, wasn’t there?”

“A baby boy who was wanted very much. And to have that happen just a year after his parents’ passing and Dahlia running off. He’d given up on the idea of family. Having a baby here at Leadeebrook … well, it’s hard for him.”

Maddy pressed against the sick feeling welling in her stomach. She could barely absorb it. “I wish I’d known.”

“He doesn’t talk about that day, though I’m sure he thinks about it often. Poor love, he blames himself.”

Jack exuded the confidence and ability of a man who could defeat any foe or would die trying. Having to face that he hadn’t been able to save his wife, his child …

Maddy swayed. She couldn’t imagine the weight on his conscience. Perhaps it was similar to the guilt she felt about pushing Dahlia out the door that day to have her nails and hair done. Would she ever forgive herself?

Maddy dragged herself back to the here and now. Knowing this much about Jack’s loss, she felt compelled to know more. More about how Jack’s past might affect his relationship with Beau. More about the steel cowboy who was very much a flesh and blood man underneath.

Before she could ask, Maddy’s senses prickled and she felt a presence at their backs. Heartbeat hammering, she rotated to face him.

Jack’s impressive frame filled the doorway. The baby lay asleep in one arm. His other hand was bunched by his side.

“Beau’s asleep,” he said.

Maddy secretly gripped the counter for support. He’d come up on them so quietly … how much had he heard? She was so taken aback, she could barely get her lips to work.

When she’d gathered herself, she came forward and with her arms out to take the baby, she managed a smile.

“I’ll put him down.”

With a single step, Jack retreated into the hall. “I can do it.”

Maddy’s arms lowered. When they’d met, she didn’t believe he had the wherewithal to care for this child beyond a grudging sense of duty. She certainly hadn’t envisaged him being hands-on, wanting to change and feed and put Beau to bed. Initially, when they’d arrived here, she’d placed his insistence to help in the ‘male pride’ slot—he’d once run a sheep stud empire, therefore looking after an infant should be a piece of cake.

But she’d seen a shift in his attitude, like when he’d spoken about the baby’s cheeky smile this afternoon, and when he’d lifted Beau out of the playpen to take him outside into the cool night. There’d been true caring in his eyes, a look that had touched a tender, hope-filled place inside of her.

Was he beginning to see Beau as a replacement for the child he’d lost? If so, wasn’t that a healing move for Jack as well as a good outcome for the baby? Her head said yes.

Yet something niggled.

Jack moved off down the hall to put Beau to bed and Maddy returned to the sink. Whether he went to his room later or out to the stables, she didn’t know but she didn’t see Jack again.

Afterward, she went to her room and sat on the edge of her downy bed. She’d experienced a gamut of emotions these past few days. Guilt and deepest sadness over Dahlia’s death. Fierce protectiveness toward Beau. Anger then curiosity toward Jack, followed more recently by acute physical desire and ultimately, tonight, empathy.

Slipping off her shoes, she took in her surroundings.

She didn’t fit here, but Beau would—or did. The walls of this homestead contained memories, connections, history that were a part of who he was and Dahlia had known it. But this cozy quiet room, with its lace curtains, white cast iron headboard, patchwork quilt and rustic timber floors, was so not her. Madison Tyler was tailored suits and classic jewelry, multiple meetings and hardnose decisions. At this point in her life, Madison Tyler was the Pompadour account.

Exhaling, she studied her BlackBerry on the bedside table. Good or bad, she couldn’t put that phone call off any longer.

Her father picked up with his usual abbreviated greeting. “Tyler here.”

Maddy held the phone tighter to her ear. “Hey, Dad.”

He groaned a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I need you back here yesterday.”

Holding her brow, she fell back against the quilt. Worse than she’d thought.

“What’s wrong?”

“Pompadour wants to look at the campaign at the end of next week.”

Her eyes flew open while her heart sank. “That’s two weeks earlier than scheduled.”

“They’re eager to see what we have. I’m eager to show them.” His voice cooled. “What about you?”

She visualized her big desk in her corner office suite even as she gazed at the vintage molded ceiling and felt today’s soft fleece beneath her fingers. Then she heard Jack’s plea … you and I are staying the night.

Her stomach knotted.

Her father wanted her to leave straight away?

“Maddy, you there?”

Thinking quick, she sat up. Today was Tuesday.

“The Pompadour proposal is polished and printed,” she told him. “There’s only the Powerpoint to tidy up and a final briefing with the staff involved. If I get back mid-next week, say crack of dawn Wednesday, that’ll be plenty of time to pull those last strings together.”

Tension crackled down the line. “Honey, I’ve been patient. I understand what good friends you were with that girl. But you’ve done what you promised. You’ve delivered the boy to his new home. Now it’s time to get back to looking after you. Looking after your own future.”

Maddy drew her legs up and hugged her knees. He was right. Absolutely. Given the circumstances, it was only logical she get back to her life, pronto.

Still.

She gnawed her bottom lip. “Dad, can you give me until Monday?”

She imagined her father shutting his eyes and shaking his head.

“You have a choice to make,” he said, not unkindly. “Either come back and finish the job or I’ll have to give it to someone who can.”

Her throat closed. “But I’ve put so much work into that campaign.” Storyboards, multiple media schedules, months spent on research both in Australia and overseas.

“This isn’t about being fair. I love you, but that’s personal. This is about business. You’re either with Tyler Advertising a hundred percent or you’re not.”

She let go of her knees and straightened. “I understand.”

She really did. And yet leaving Beau here after only one day seemed … worse than heartless.

As if reading her thoughts, her father sighed the way he used to when she was young and had pleaded for another scoop of ice cream after dinner.

“If you really think you can pull it off … all right. I’ll give you ‘til Monday to get back.”

She pushed to her feet, beaming. “Really?”

“Monday eight a.m.,” he decreed. “Not a minute later.”

She said goodbye and thought over how thirteen days at Leadeebrook had dwindled down to five. At least she didn’t have to hop on a plane back to Sydney as soon as tomorrow. But now she needed to make the most of every minute she had with Beau.

She crept the short distance down the darkened hall and when she reached the nursery, the door was ajar. After tiptoeing in, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the shadows and moonlight streaming in through the partly opened window. The outline of the crib grew more distinct as the smell of baby powder and Beau filled her lungs. Feeling the cool timber then soft center rug beneath her feet, she inched closer until her fingers curled over the sturdy cot rail. She smiled. Beau was sound asleep.

She stood there for she didn’t know how long, simply drinking in the angelic form, filing this memory away for later. In this wedge of time, Sydney and Tyler’s Advertising were another world away. Another universe.

And she was more than okay with that.

A creak came from behind. Heart zipping to her throat, Maddy spun around. A hulking shadow in the corner took on shape as it straightened out of a chair and edged toward her. She smothered a breathless gasp.

An intruder?

But as the figure drifted closer, its build became unmistakable. Of course it was Jack. Saying not a thing the whole while she’d been there.

“Why didn’t you let me know you were in the room?” she whispered, hoping the irritation showed in her voice. No one liked to be spied on.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.” He came closer. “But when you stayed …”

He stopped beside her and his simmering magnetism at once drew her in. It was as if she were a planet being sucked into the heat of the sun, or the day needing to surrender to the unconditional blanket of the night.

Bracing herself, Maddy locked her weakened knees.

She needed to get out of here, away from him, before she did something foolish like let him kiss her again. She had to keep focused. But she needed to say something important—something that couldn’t wait—before she left this room.

“I spoke with my father tonight,” she told him. “He needs me back in Sydney early.”

The dark slashes of his brows swooped together. “How early?”

“Monday morning.”

His frown lowered to Beau. “How do you feel about that?”

She batted a reply around in her head and decided on, “I don’t have a choice.”

“Doesn’t give me much time to get you in a saddle.”

When he grinned, she gave in to a smile, too. You wish.

“But it does give us time for the gala,” he went on. “Do you have a dress?”

Her jaw dropped and an exasperated sound escaped her throat.

“I seriously cannot believe you.” The baby stirred. Gathering herself, she pressed her lips together and hushed her voice. “I’m not going anywhere with you, particularly not now that I only have five days left with Beau.”

Even if, admittedly, when she’d spoken on the phone with her father and had asked for more time, going to the gala with Jack had been something of a consideration.

“Five days, yes,” Jack agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t come back.”

The words hit her, caressed her, and she could only blink. Just days ago he’d barely wanted to know her and now …

She half smiled. “You want me to come back? “

“Now don’t be shy. I know you’re secretly attached to the Mitchell grass and the dust.”

She almost laughed. Never, ever would that happen. But …

“I would like to come back and see Beau,” she added to be clear.

“That can be arranged. On one condition.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is this going to be an offer I can’t refuse?”

“Hope so.” He turned to her and held her with his eyes. “Come away with me, Maddy. One night. Just one. Don’t make me beg.”

They’d known each other such a short time. But she was convinced of his strength and confidence and, above all else, his pride. The idea of him begging …

She touched her forehead.

He made her feel vulnerable. Desirable. Hot. How a woman should feel with a man. He almost made her feel too intensely.

“What are you afraid of?” His head angled and a lock of hair fell over his furrowed brow. When he moved closer, his height, his overpowering presence, seemed to curl over and absorb her.

“Once I thought I had all the time in the world,” he murmured into the dark. “But we both know life isn’t always that way. If we had more time, I probably wouldn’t have suggested this.” A corner of his mouth hooked up. “Then again, maybe I would have.”

Her heart squeezed so much that it ached.

She was physically drawn to a ruggedly handsome man who wasn’t hiding the fact that he was seriously drawn to her. He’d told her in the plainest of terms—he wanted them to spend the night together. He was saying he wanted to make love.

What did she want?

Not the girl who’d grown up without a mother, or the cosmo-chick who lived for her decaf soy latte each morning at eight. What did Madison Tyler, the woman, want?

He seemed to read her mind. His big hand threaded around her waist and brought her close. “This might help you decide.”

His lips met hers, a feathery, devastatingly gentle caress. The steam in his blood found a way into hers and, in that mist-filled instant, she burned white-hot from the inside out. She told herself to keep her wits … to try to find her feet. Useless. Her defenses fell away and any remaining doubt drifted off like weightless wisps from a dandelion ball.

His mouth reluctantly left hers but the hold on her waist remained firm. When her eyes fluttered open, she didn’t have the strength to even pretend she was annoyed. She understood the arguments. She barely knew him. She wasn’t a leap-in-think-later type. God, what would Dahlia have thought?

And yet suddenly none of that mattered.

For so long she’d wanted to feel as if she truly belonged, without pressure, without fear of disapproval. Right or wrong, for one night she wanted to belong to Jack Prescott.

Siphoning in a much-needed breath, she sorted her thoughts.

“I’ll go with you,” she said, “but I have a condition of my own. That you don’t do that again while we’re under this roof.”

His grin was lazy. “Was the kiss that bad?”

Her brows knitted. This wasn’t a joke.

“I won’t deny that I want you to kiss me again, because I do.” At this moment more than she could ever have dreamed possible. “But if we start stealing kisses in every darkened corner, where does that leave Beau? The days that I’m left here, he deserves my attention. All of it.” Maddy thought of Dahlia’s trust in her—that sacred promise—and her throat swelled and closed off. “The least we can do is give him that much.”

Jack’s gaze turned inward before falling to the baby. A moment later, his hand left her waist. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he nodded.

“Agreed.”

“But I will go with you on Saturday,” she continued, “if we leave after he’s gone down for the night and we arrive back early. Can you live with that?”

Jack studied Beau for a long moment before his gaze found hers once more. His expression changed. A knuckle curved around and lifted her jaw and for a strangled heartbeat Maddy thought he might kiss her again.

But he only smiled a thoughtful smile and murmured, “I can live with that.”

Seven

The next day, back from his early ride, Jack headed for the house, remembering Maddy’s words from the previous night. They’d rattled around in his head all morning. Had made him smile and made him wonder.

I won’t deny that I want to kiss you again, because I do.

Maddy had agreed to go to the gala. In effect they both knew she’d agreed to more than that. Knowing he would soon take to bed the woman he’d been physically attracted to from the start left him with an acute sense of anticipation that released a new and vital heat surging through his veins. But their connection was more than physical. Had to be. He’d been intimate with women over the past three years. The acts had left his body sated, but not his mind. Not his heart. Something about Maddy affected him. differently.

Striding up the steps, he chided himself.

Of course he didn’t kid himself that making love to Maddy could compare with what he and Sue had shared. It wouldn’t, and that was as it should be. Neither could he pretend that he wouldn’t have the hardest time keeping his promise not to touch Maddy again until Saturday evening. She wanted no distractions from her time left here with Beau. Commendable. But when they arrived in Clancy for the gala, he’d have to make up for lost time.

Stopping at the kitchen, Jack expected to see Cait by the sink or the stove, but the room, gleaming in the early morning light, was empty. Further down the hall, Maddy’s door was closed. In passing, his pace slowed. He wanted to invite himself in. To break his promise and be done with it.

Scratching his jaw, he growled and moved on.

This situation was getting ridiculous. He shouldn’t be so preoccupied with speculations over how Maddy would feel beneath him, her thighs coiled around his hips, her warm lips on his neck, on his chest. Family—now that he had one again—was what mattered.

He approached the nursery, confirming again in his mind that he wouldn’t fail this boy. Not like he’d failed Dahlia when he hadn’t brought her back all those years ago. But, hell, had rescuing his sister ever been possible? He might have been bigger. He might have been right. Staying at Leadeebrook was far safer for a girl—for Dahlia—than trying to survive on the outside. The rape, her death, proved that. But when Dahlia had left Leadeebrook, she’d been over eighteen. The law said she’d been old enough to make her own decisions, even if they ended in tragedy.

He stopped outside the partly closed nursery door and took stock. Life was known for irony, and that tragedy had also produced a baby, the only surviving link, other than himself, to the Prescott bloodline. Beau was more than Dahlia’s legacy, he was the Prescott future. Beau would grow up, find a nice woman, settle here at Leadeebrook, have a family of his own.

Jack pushed open the door, a smile curving his lips. He felt a great deal of comfort knowing that.

Kicking his heels, Beau was wide awake in his crib. After changing his diaper, Jack decided it was high time he took the boy on a tour. He bundled Beau up and headed for what had been known at Leadeebrook as the portrait hall.

“This is your great-great-grandfather,” Jack said, stopping before the first portrait, which looked particularly regal in its gold-leaf gilded frame. “He was a determined and clever man. He and great-great- grandmother Prescott were responsible for making this homestead into the stately residence it is today.”

Sitting quietly, gathered in his uncle’s arm, Beau stared at the stern-looking gentleman in the frame before Jack moved further down the hall.

“And this,” he said, pulling up in front of the next portrait, “is your great-grandfather. He taught me how to shear.” Jack studied the baby then smiled and tickled his chin. “I’ll have to teach you.”

On the opposite side of the wide hall resided portraits of the Prescott women. He stopped at his late wife’s and clenched his free hand to divert the familiar ache of loss that rose in his chest. The finest artist on the eastern coast had been commissioned for this piece, and the man had captured the loving shine in Sue’s soft brown eyes perfectly.

At the same time Jack’s throat thickened, Beau wriggled and he bypassed the other distinguished portraits until he reached the part of the house he visited often but always alone. After turning the handle, he entered the library—what had become Sue’s library when she’d been alive. An extendable stepladder resided at the far end of the massive room. Numerous shelves, laden with all kinds of reading matter, towered toward the lofty ceiling. Designer crimson-and-yellow-gold swags decorated the tall windows. The cream chairs and couches bore the subtle sheen of finest quality upholstery.

This room upheld the Prescott promise of old money and impeccable taste, yet Sue had managed to make the library look cozy, too, with fresh flowers from the garden and bundles of home décor magazines and crossword puzzles camped out on occasional tables. The flowers were long gone, but the magazines he’d told Cait to leave.

Jack studied the baby studying the room. Beau was a smart kid. Even at this age, Jack could see it in his eyes.

“Will you be a reader or more a hands-on type like your uncle?” he asked his nephew, crossing to the nearest bookshelf. “Maybe both. Your mother was good at everything.” He grinned, remembered when they’d been children. “Not that I ever let her know that.”

He strolled half the length of the room to the children’s section and eyed the spines that Sue might’ve read to Beau when he was a little older, as well as to their own son, had he lived.

Wincing, Jack inhaled deeply to dispel the twist of pain high in his gut. Every waking minute of every day, he missed her, missed what they’d had. And then Maddy had appeared in his life. When she was around, he didn’t feel quite so empty, and he wasn’t certain how to process that. Should he feel relieved or guilty?

The polished French-provincial desk in the corner drew his attention. He carried Beau across the room and slid open a drawer on the right hand side. The book was there … Sue’s memory book.

Jack laid it out on the leather blotter and flipped through the pages, pointing out Sue’s relatives to a fist-sucking Beau. She had spent hours making the pages pretty. On the last page, a blue-and-yellow heart hugged a black-and-white image … a scan of their unborn child.

His eyes growing hot, Jack gently pressed his palm next to the eighteen-week-old shape that was his son.

“Sue wanted to name him after her father,” he told Beau, in a deep, thick voice. “But I told her, no disrespect to her dad, that Peter Prescott sounded dumb. I’d wanted to name him after my father—”

A bitter nut of emotion opened high in his throat. Dropping his gaze, Jack swallowed hard and reached again for the drawer. He drew out a platinum-plated rattle, not a family heirloom but a gift Sue had bought for their baby a week before she’d died. The inscription read Love forever, Mum and Dad.

His chest tight, Jack smiled at the galloping horses etched down the cool handle. He shook the rattle and was rewarded by a sound similar to sleigh bells. At the noise, Beau pulled his ear then threw a hand out.

Lowering the rattle, Jack sank into the chair and, feeling empty again, searched his soul.

He examined first the scan image in Sue’s book then Beau. Then he looked at each again. The pain behind his ribs intensified to a point where he almost lost his breath. But then, remarkably, the ache eased to a warm sensation rather than something bleak and cold and sour. He didn’t want to feel that way anymore.

As the tension between his shoulders loosened, Jack bobbed Beau high on his arm and, pressing his lips to the baby’s forehead, handed the rattle over.

Later that day, Jack was back in the stables, preparing to brush down Herc. But he was more interested in what was happening outside.

Beau was in the yard on a prickle-free patch of lawn and garden near the house. He was enthralled by the motion of the baby swing, which his uncle had hung from a tree branch that morning. Maddy pushed the swing, carefully—not too high. Her face was a portrait of joy. Of contentedness.

Smiling, Jack absently threaded Herc’s brush strap over his hand.

Hell, no matter her mood, Maddy was attractive. Perfect symmetry, graceful movements. In his humble opinion, this landscape was the ideal foil for her skin and flaxen hair, particularly given the denim shorts and blousy blue top she wore today … the same color as her eyes. He itched to go join them in the dappled shade of that cypress. But simply looking from a distance raked the reawakened coals that smoldered deep in his gut.

True, they both felt the same fire. Both wanted the chance to turn the heat on to combustible high. But as much as it needled, he reminded himself yet again that she’d been right last night and he, in turn, meant to keep his word. He wouldn’t crowd her. Foremost, she’d come to Leadeebrook to keep a promise not to begin an affair.

Jack turned to Herc and, frowning, swiped the bristles down his glossy black neck.

Affair wasn’t the right word. Affair implied some sort of ongoing relationship and neither of them was immature enough to think that was a possibility. They lived thousands of miles apart. He didn’t like the city. She was not a fan of the country. She might take up his offer and come back to visit once or twice. But she was a young woman with a life, and who she was and what she aspired to be wasn’t here.

When Herc’s flank twitched and his rear hoof pawed the ground, Jack swiped the brush again.

Good thing really. He’d considered taking on a more serious relationship with Tara and had concluded it would be a mistake. He’d had no choice but to take responsibility for Beau. After the initial king-hit shock, he was at peace with the arrangement. He’d do everything in his power to protect him, keep him close. Maddy, on the other hand.

Jack stopped brushing.

Well, Maddy was another matter.

Nell breezed by his leg, trotting out the door with a boomerang-shaped stick in her mouth. Curious, Jack crossed to the window in time to see Nell drop the stick at Maddy’s feet.

It’d be a cold day in Hades before Maddy got chummy with a canine. Given her past, he couldn’t blame her. He, however, couldn’t imagine not having a dog around his feet. Not so long ago he’d owned five.

Her nose wrinkling, Maddy waved Nell back and Jack heard her say, “Shoo. Get away.” But Nell kept sitting there, every few seconds nudging the stick closer to Maddy’s city sneakers with her nose. Nell wanted to play. She could catch a stick for hours if anyone was silly enough to throw it. Nell thought Maddy was a good candidate.