Suddenly, he was jostled.
“Hey, Jackson. Wake up.”
His eyes flew open. The bright light from the lamp on the end table caused him to blink. Wait. What was she doing standing there with a tray of food? They had just been snuggled together on the couch.
He blinked, trying to make sense of everything. And then it all came crashing in on him. He’d dozed off again. Fragmented images of his dream came rushing back to him. Not only had he been dreaming, but he’d been dreaming about Mae. He uttered a groan.
A worried look came over her face. “What’s the matter? Is it your ankle?”
He hurried to subdue his frustration. What was wrong with him? He had absolutely no interest in Mae. None whatsoever!
He glanced up at her. The look on her face said that with each passing moment she was becoming more concerned about him. What did he say? His still half-asleep mind struggled to find the right words.
“Um... I just moved the wrong way. It’s no big deal.”
She consulted the clock on the mantel. “You can have some more painkillers. I’ll go get you a couple.”
Mae set the tray down on the coffee table and rushed out of the room. He didn’t argue, because he needed a moment or two to pull himself together. He shifted until he was sitting sideways on the couch, keeping his foot propped up. Realizing he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, he reached for the plate of bread.
At that moment, there was a shuffling sound. And then a fuzzy head popped up over the edge of the couch. Without invitation, Gizmo hopped up on the couch. This time he didn’t immediately settle down for a nap. His tail swished back and forth.
So the little guy wanted to make friends? Jackson smiled. It’d been a long time since he’d briefly had a dog. And nowadays, his life wasn’t conducive to keeping a pet. But that didn’t mean he and Gizmo couldn’t be friends.
He sat still as the dog paused and sniffed the bandage on his leg. And then the pup continued up the edge of the couch. Jackson was all ready to pet him when the dog became distracted by the food. Before Jackson could move the plate, Gizmo snatched a slice of buttered bread. For a dog with short legs, he sure could move swiftly.
“Hey. Stop.”
Gizmo didn’t
slow down. He jumped off the couch. Just as Mae returned, Gizmo rushed past her. The dog was a blur of gray-and-white fur.
A frown settled on Mae’s face. “What did you do to Gizmo?”
“Me?” Jackson pressed a hand to his chest. “Why do you think I did anything?”
“Because I know you don’t really like him.”
He didn’t like Gizmo? Was that really how he came across? Maybe that was why the dog chose the bread over him. The thought didn’t sit well with Jackson. He would have to try harder with the little guy—even if he was a bread thief.
Mae crossed her arms, waiting for an answer to her question.
Jackson’s gaze met her accusing stare. “I promise you that I didn’t do anything to him.”
“Then why was he running out of here?”
Obviously she’d missed the piece of bread hanging from the little guy’s mouth. Well, who was he to rat Gizmo out? It wasn’t like it was going to score him any points with his very protective owner.
“I don’t know. Maybe he heard something.” Jackson shrugged. And then he held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Her stance eased. “You were a Boy Scout?”
“I was.” He studied her, surprised by the glint of approval in her eyes. “I take it you approve?”
“I... I guess. I’m just surprised, is all.”
For that moment, he wanted to gain her approval. “I was in the Scouts for a number of years.”
“You must have enjoyed it.”