He turned his head and glared at her. ‘Tatty, you can’t do this! Off!’
No chance. She grinned and licked his face, and he wondered just exactly when, if ever, she’d been wormed. He threw the covers off and got up, heading for the bathroom with the dog at his heels.
‘You need the vet, and I need a shower and some clothes that don’t smell of you, because I have to go to work. Do you want breakfast first? Probably.’
She polished off the rest of his loaf of bread, mostly while his back was turned, and she didn’t even have the grace to look guilty.
He put her back in the conservatory and went to work hungry.
Poor Ryan.
The look on his face when he’d realised he couldn’t keep her. Still, maybe by this morning he’d thought better of it. He’d probably thought better of their goodnight kiss, at least. She certainly had—hadn’t she?
Liar.
She got up, showered and washed her hair to get rid of the occasional whiff of river mud that was coming from somewhere, dressed in jeans and a top that didn’t matter, and headed for Annie and Ed Shackleton’s house.
They lived just round the corner on the seafront, and it was the school holidays so hopefully they’d be in. She pulled up outside their house just as Annie was walking back with their dog, Molly, and she got out of the car with a smile.
‘Morning, Annie. That was perfect timing!’
‘Hi, Beth. Are you OK? What can I do for you?’
Ten minutes later, armed with a collar and lead and an appointment with the Shackletons’ vet, Beth collected Tatty from Ryan’s conservatory and was about to load her into the car when a voice came from behind her.
‘She came back, then. I did wonder if she might.’
Beth turned round and saw an elderly man peering through the hedge. ‘Oh—hi. Do you know her?’
‘Yes, she belonged to the tenants. Said they were rehoming her but they looked a bit shifty about it. Did a runner in the middle of the night, too. Packed up a van and went. I reckon they owed rent again. So, you and your young man have taken it on, have you?’
For a moment she wasn’t sure if he was talking about the house or the dog, but then she realised he was looking at the house. ‘Yes—well, Ryan has. He’s not my young man, he’s just a friend.’
Why did that feel like a lie?
The man pushed his way through a gap in the hedge, and stuck his hand out. ‘I’m Reg, by the way.’
She freed a hand from the lead and shook his. ‘I’m Beth.’
Reg stooped and patted the dog. ‘He’s brave taking it on. They left it in a right old state.’
‘Yes, they did, but it’s better now. Reg, I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude but I’ve got an appointment with the vet.’
‘Better not hold you up then, young lady. Nice to meet you. And tell your Ryan if there’s anything he needs, just ask.’
‘I will.’
He gave the dog a last pat and she watched him wrestle his way back through the gap in the hedge, then she opened the boot and gave Tatty a little tug. She sat down and whined, and Beth eyed her thoughtfully.
She was NOT a small dog. The boot was barely big enough. Did she really need to wrestle with her?
‘Please, Tatty. Come on. Good girl,’ she wheedled, and to her astonishment the dog jumped in, licked her hand and sat down.
Phew. She got behind the wheel and drove carefully to the practice, one eye on the rear-view mirror, but the dog just sat there, giving the odd whine. Presumably her last journey had ended in her being evicted from the car and dumped in the middle of nowhere—unless she genuinely had been rehomed and had simply run away?
‘Poor Tatty,’ she said softly, and the dog whined again.
‘Well? Do we know who she is?’
‘Sort of. No microchip, as expected, but I met your neighbour, Reg. She was the tenants’ dog.’
He nodded. ‘I was pretty sure she was. She made herself at home last night, anyway. She ended up on my bed.’
Beth’s eyes widened, and he laughed.
‘Don’t look surprised. She’s very persuasive when she’s howling at three in the morning and I didn’t want to be kicked out by the landlord.’
‘I don’t think that’s going to happen. After the last lot, he’s going to be only too happy to have you there. Reg said if there’s anything you need, just ask, by the way. He seemed to think we were a couple. I told him you were just a friend.’
That word again. Even less right after their kiss last night. He grunted. ‘I’ll go and introduce myself when I get home. So did he say what the dog’s name was?’
‘No, but I didn’t ask, and the vet didn’t recognise her, but apparently she’s possibly some kind of retriever cross, she’s young, and there’s something else you need to know. She’s about four or five weeks pregnant.’
He felt his jaw drop, and sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘Seriously? Oh, Beth. What the hell do we do now?’
‘We?’ She laughed and walked away. ‘Your dog, McKenna. It’s nothing to do with me. I suggest you try and contact the owners.’
Over his dead body.
But realistically, did he have a choice? He rang the letting agent, told him the dog had come back and asked if he had a forwarding address for the previous tenants, but of course he didn’t. They owed two months’ rent. Why would they give anyone their address?
Which left him with the need to rehome her somehow. He found a rescue centre on the internet, and the moment he got home he rang them.
They were full, but they said they’d take her as soon as they had a space.
‘Don’t hold your breath, though,’ the receptionist said. ‘It could be a while. Are you able to keep her in the meantime?’
He said he could, trying to work out why the feeling in his chest felt remarkably like relief, then gave her his details and went into the kitchen and found a note from Beth, propped up against the kettle.
Dry food’s in the pantry. She’s twenty-five kilos but add twenty per cent more food because she’s pregnant. Couldn’t find scales, but she’s
