God, she was such a bad liar, especially to herself. She hadn’t been thankful he’d left. She’d felt bereft. And so were the puppies—she swore they’d been pining for him all afternoon and evening.
Where’s the big guy who knows how to scratch us just right? their round eyes seemed to say.
She felt their pain. Daniel not only knew how to rub a puppy’s belly, he also knew how to kiss a woman until she was breathless. The mere imprint of his lips on her forehead told her that.
What wouldn’t she give to feel his mouth against hers…
She had to remind herself that it wasn’t possible. How could a woman with a despicable past—and a desolate future—ever deserve a man like Daniel Spencer?
One of the puppies mewled, and she rushed to the box. The lights had gone out fifteen minutes ago, and she’d lit a hurricane lamp. But she didn’t have enough bowls to catch the leaks that were quickly coming down all around them.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, reaching in to stroke Spanky.
She could only thank God—and Daniel—that they were out of that cave. They would have been soaked, then frozen. They wouldn’t have survived the night.
A fat raindrop plopped through the roof onto Darla’s head, but it seemed she had no strength to shake it off. Tasha had coaxed the puppies to eat twice more and had given them water, but she feared they still had a ways to go toward full recovery after dehydration and near starvation.
She pulled the crate closer to the wood stove to keep them warm, until another leak appeared and she had to move them again. The bedroom was relatively dry, but the stove’s heat hadn’t yet penetrated that room.
Boom! A particularly loud crash of thunder shook the house.
Froggy started to howl—even Tasha shrieked in surprise—and when she picked him up to soothe him, Spanky joined in the melee. “It’s okay, you guys, I’ll keep you safe and warm.”
She had two puppies in her arms when her front door flew open, sheets of rain blowing in to soak the floor. Daniel followed the rain in, stepping into her life and her house just when she needed him most.
Again.
* * *
Free of its ponytail for once, Tasha’s hair flowed down her back, black as midnight in the lamplight, silky, shiny. Beautifully touchable as she sat cross-legged with two puppies in her arms.
Daniel shoved the door closed against the wind and rain. “I knocked, but got worried when no one answered. The wind blew the door right out of my hand when I opened it.”
She nodded, her hair cascading over her shoulders. “I couldn’t hear anything over the thunder.” She bent to kiss a furry head. “But the storm scared the puppies. They keep howling.” She glanced into the crate. “Except Darla. Even through the racket, she’s barely moved. I’m worried about her.” Her fears were written all over her face as she turned from the puppy to him. Her eyes suddenly widened when she took in his drenched-to-the-skin state, his clothing plastered to his chest and thighs. “It couldn’t have been safe for you to walk up here. You’re soaked.”
“I drove the truck.” He surveyed his wet clothing and the puddle he was making on the floor. “This was just getting from the driveway to your door.”
Not that one more puddle seemed to matter, considering all the bowls and pots and pans that littered the floor of her cabin, the plinking of raindrops a counterpoint to wind and thunder. Rainwater pooled in spots where she’d run out of cookware.
“I noticed your tarps blew off,” he said.
The roof had more holes than actual wood. If stars had been out, he’d able to see them right through it. Ho
w the heck had she survived the last three wintry months? A beaded raindrop hanging from a beam above chose that moment to drop on her forehead and roll down her nose. He would kill to kiss it off.
“I was going to offer to help you tack them back on,” he continued, “but as bad as this storm is becoming, I’m thinking we should head back to my house. My roof is watertight. The fire’s going. And there’s hot coffee. Good food.” In case she was thinking of turning down his offer, he played his trump card. “The cold and damp can’t be good for the puppies. Especially Darla. You said she’s not doing well.” He didn’t want to pound home any guilt, but no way was he letting Tasha stay in this falling-down wreck when the next big gust of wind might blow it away. “They need to be somewhere warm and dry. And I’ve got it.”
Right then, Darla made a little snuffling sound from deep in the box. That sealed the deal.
“You’re right,” Tasha said. “It would be better for the puppies if we went to your place.”
Victory. It was so sweet.
Even if he sensed it was only temporary.
* * *
Daniel went out of his way to be helpful, driving his truck right up to the porch, toting the puppies’ box out to it, getting drenched all over again in the process while miraculously keeping the box relatively dry. At his house, he helped her bundle up the puppies, carry in their food, then set them up by his big, lovely fireplace. And he was still working, this time getting dinner ready for them. And later, when she slept in his big bed—which he’d insisted she have because he’d obviously been raised a gentleman—she knew she wouldn’t have to be afraid that he’d sneak in while she was sleeping. Daniel wasn’t scum like her ex.