Groomed For Love. Helen R. Myers

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      When Noah pulled up to the clinic, it wasn’t yet one o’clock and the closed-for-lunch sign was still on the door, although Noah could see the old-timers sitting around their table. He wondered if they ever went home. Or was there anyone at home to go to? He had noticed pockets of seniors around Rusk, too, who collected wherever they weren’t in the way yet could get out of the heat or cold, depending on the season. Loneliness and old age weren’t necessarily synonymous—he knew plenty of senior citizens living full, active lives—but apparently something was going on. It was good of Gage Sullivan to allow the guys to hang out here.

      One of the seniors spotted him and pointed around the building toward the back.

      Hoping he understood correctly, Noah drove that way, only to utter a soft, “Whoa.”

      He’d heard that Rylie Quinn was living in a camper in the back of the clinic, but what was parked ahead of him wasn’t just an RV. It was one of those monster coach things that well-to-do traveling retirees and touring rock stars used. Didn’t those things come with a hefty price tag? It seemed a lot of vehicle for a woman only in her mid-twenties. Grooming dogs was apparently more lucrative than he’d first thought.

      As he exited his BMW, he gave the two-tone bronze machine a once-over from behind his sunglasses. This was a model where both sides could extend out from the main structure for extra sleeping and dining space, converting it into a virtual house on wheels. The size of the thing also had him wondering who else might be in there. A boyfriend? Husband? Rylie didn’t wear a ring. Come to think of it, she didn’t seem to wear any jewelry at all. Interesting bit of trivia for such a lively, even flamboyant, person.

      Before he could knock, the door opened, and he looked up into Rylie’s smiling face. A determined smile, he noted.

      “Hey there. Twice in one day—my cup runneth over. I guess your mom managed to twist your arm? When I called her and learned that Ramon was being held hostage at the dealership, I offered to bring Bubbles to her, but she said you would be happy to do it.” Upon seeing Noah narrow his eyes, she threw back her head and laughed with delight. “Oh, how funny! She conned you.”

      “So it would seem,” he muttered. The why bothered him, too. His mother hadn’t met Rylie, so she had better not be getting any ideas about matchmaking.

      “Come on in, you poor oppressed soul. I was having lunch here to let Bubbles have more space, and so the old-timers could hear each other talk. For a little thing, she does have powerful lungs.”

      After a slight hesitation, Noah did step up into the vehicle. He couldn’t deny that he was curious as to what things looked like inside. “That’s what Mother claims to have been worried about. At home Bubbles has about ten thousand square feet to roam around, all in a safe environment.” As soon as he said that, Noah inwardly kicked himself. Not only did it sound as though he was bragging, but he knew better than to offer details to strangers, particularly about the family’s wealth. Granted, one had only to drive by the property to know they were well-off, but to him this was just another sign of how easily Rylie Quinn could undermine his discipline.

      “Lucky girl. At least we don’t have to worry about her getting enough exercise, regardless of the weather.” Rylie stepped back to make room for him. “I wondered how Mrs. Prescott could be feeding her all of those treats she admits to, yet this munchkin stays at a healthy weight.” She leaned over to pick up the little dog that—upon Noah’s entry—had gone straight to her and planted one tiny foot on Rylie’s sneaker.

      Noah didn’t miss the move, which struck him as possessive. That left Noah with the uncomfortable feeling that the dog could sense his conflicted feelings about Rylie. Or was the animal sticking close to her because she hated the idea of having to ride home with him? At this rate the spoiled fur ball was going to have Rylie thinking he was abusive.

      “She also likes to chase around the pool,” he continued, “while my mother has her therapy.”

      With a sympathetic sound, Rylie said, “I heard about what happened to Mrs. Prescott—and the terrible loss you both suffered. I’m so sorry.”

      Although he nodded his thanks, he had to look away after feeling an unexpected pulling in his midsection, as though someone was tethering them together via invisible СКАЧАТЬ