“Um, I guess, but the floor might be—”
But Tabby was already lying on concrete, her arms spread wide. “Come to me, puppies! Come to Tabitha!”
The puppies didn’t need any encouraging, all six bounded over to her sniffing and nuzzling her sides. One of the braver ones pawed at her hip and she scooped it into her arms and kissed its tiny face. “Hello pupper, I love you. I love you so much.”
Toby was watching her with wide eyes. “Are you…okay?”
“No, I’m in heaven.” Tabby lifted the puppy high above her head. “This is heaven and it’s so wonderful, it hurts.”
Scott looked around and saw Sam hovering nearby. “Come and have a look?”
She came closer, close enough that he could smell the jasmine of her perfume. The squeak of delight she emitted when she saw the puppies made his chest ache. “Oh, aren’t they lovely?”
Scott turned his face so it was inches from her ear. “Not as lovely as you. Thank you for coming.”
“No problem, what do you think? Are you going to get a puppy?”
“We’ll see. I just got here. To Australia I mean, also to this house. They are cute, though.”
“Very.”
Sam smirked and looked away. Was she fighting thoughts of the night before, too? The feel of skin, the way they’d moved together like they’d known exactly how to drive the other insane…
Tabby raised a hand. “Hey, Tobes? I’m busting, is there a chance I can take a wee inside?”
Toby clenched his jaw. “I…er…”
He cast a panicky look at Scott, who knew exactly what he was thinking,please don’t make me show a hot girl the Jesus house, Mr Sanderson. Help me.
“Er, maybe we should go and get a coffee,” Scott said. “Come back afterward?”
Tabby frowned. “Or I could just pee in the house? What’s wrong, is it a composting toilet? It’s fine, if it is. I lived in a tent for three months. I have little-to-no germaphobia.”
“You could use some germaphobia,” Sam said. “Don’t worry about it, we should go, I have a client in an hour.”
Now it was Scott’s turn to throw Toby a panicked look. He didn’t give a shit how many graphic depictions of Christ’s death lay between here and the toilet—he needed the DaSilva sisters to stay, at least until he’d asked Sam on a date. Toby licked his lower lip. “Okay, it’s all good. You can use our bathroom.”
“Sweet,” Tabby said, brushing a few stray bits of dog kibble from her yellow smock dress. “Lead the way.”
Scott watched them leave with relief. Tomorrow he’d buy Toby all the lattes the kid could drink for taking this bullet, but now he had a job to do. In the absence of her sister, Sam moved further into the shed. She knelt by Mopsy, stroking her side. “Is your assistant okay? Is Tabby freaking him out? I can tell her to back off, if she is.”
“No, I don’t think it’s that. Toby’s got a house full of Jesus paraphernalia. Or his parents do.”
Sam tilted her head to the side. “Well there you go. Don’t worry about Tabby, she won’t say anything. She’s a nutbag, but she doesn’t judge.”
Scott smiled. Say whatever you liked about the DaSilvas—and his dad had said plenty over the years—they weren’t judgmental and they never had been. Maybe because their patriarch had been an honest-to-god hippie. “I know.”
Sam’s face lit up. “Hey, remember when those Mormons were canvassing the neighborhood? They knocked at your place and your dad opened the door—”
“And told them to sod off if they knew what was good for them,” Scott finished. “I don’t know who was more embarrassed, the Mormons or my mum.”
“Definitely the Mormons. They came over to our house and they looked so disheartened, dad made them peppermint lemonade and they stayed for like, three hours.”
He and Sam smiled at each other and the childhood memory. It was strange to have someone to share them with after all these years in London where his backstory amounted to little more than ‘Sanderson spent ten years in Australia, then his mum died.’
Sam stared at the puppies gamboling at her feet; she smiled and shook her head. “I don’t know why I let Tabby drag me here. She’s going to want to adopt one or all of them and I’m going to have to be the arsehole who says no fucking way.”
“She’s not ready for the responsibility?”