honour,’ Raff said.
‘We never made Scouts.’ Raff had been one of the town’s bad boys. Like him.
‘That’s what I mean. You need any help?’
‘No. We found the dog. That’s why I’m ringing.’
‘We found the dog? You and Miss Morrissy?’
‘Nikki,’ he said before he could help himself and he heard the interest sharpen.
‘Curiouser and curiouser. So you and Nikki …’
‘The dog’s here,’ he snapped. ‘Fed and watered and asleep by my fire. I’ll bring him down to Fred when I’ve had a sleep.’
‘You’re having a sleep?’
‘Nikki’s orders,’ he said and suddenly he had an urge to smile. Quickly suppressed. ‘She’s bossy.’
‘Well, well.’
‘And you can just put that right out of your head,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t want a dog, and I don’t want a woman even more. Tell Henrietta the dog’s found and we’ll take him to Fred tonight.’
‘We?’
‘Go find some villains to chase,’ he growled. ‘My head hurts. I’m going to sleep.’
‘On Nikki’s orders?’
He told Raff where to put his interest, and he hung up. Stripped to his boxers again. Climbed into bed. Following orders.
His head really did hurt.
She was going to check on him every two hours. The thought was …
Nope. He didn’t know what the thought was.
He didn’t want her checking him every two hours.
‘I’d prefer you to leave your door open so I can make sure you’re not dead …’
He sighed and opened his door. Glanced across at Nikki, who glanced back. Waved. He glowered and dived under the covers.
He didn’t want a woman in his living room.
Nor did he want a dog.
What was he doing, in bed in the middle of the morning?
He put his head on the pillow and the aching eased. Maybe she had a point. A man had to be sensible.
He fell asleep thinking of the dog.
Trying not to think of Nikki.
It was so domestic it was almost claustrophobic. The fire, the dog, Gabe asleep right through the door.
The work she was doing was tidying up plans she’d already drawn—nothing complex, which was just as well the way she was feeling. Her head was all over the place.
Biggest thought? Gabe.
No. Um, no, it wasn’t. Or it shouldn’t be. Her biggest thought had to be—could she keep a dog?
As a kid she’d thought she might like a dog. That was never going to happen, though. Her parents were high-flyers, both lawyers with an international clientele. They loved her to bits in the time they could spare for her, but that time was limited. She was an only child, taken from country to country, from boarding school to international hotel to luxury resort.
And after childhood? University, followed by a top paying job, a gorgeous apartment. Then Jonathan.
Maybe she could get a small white fluff ball, she’d thought occasionally, when she was missing Jon. When he was supposedly working elsewhere. But where would a dog fit into a lifestyle similar to her parents’?
And now …
Her job still took her away.
Her job didn’t have to take her away. Or not for long. She could glean enough information from a site visit to keep her working for months. Most queries could be sorted online—there was never a lot of use stomping round construction sites.
She quite liked stomping round construction sites. It was the part of her job she enjoyed most.
It was the only part …
Salary? Prestige?
Both were less and less satisfying. Her parents thought her career was wonderful. Jonathan thought it was wonderful. But now …
Now was hardly the time to be thinking of a career change. She was good at what she did. She was paid almost embarrassingly well. She could afford to pay others to do the menial stuff.
So maybe a little white fluff ball?
Or Horse.
Horse was hardly a fluff ball. Ten times as big, and a lot more needy.
Maybe she could share parenting with Gabe, she thought. When she was needed on site, he could stay home from sea.
Shared parenting? Of a dog who looked like a mangy horse, with a grumpy landlord fisherman?
With a body to die for. And with the gentlest of hands. And a voice that said he cared.
She glanced across the passage. The deal was she wouldn’t check on him every two hours as long as he kept his door open.
If he dropped dead, she was on the wrong side of the passage.
There wasn’t a lot she could do if he dropped dead.
At least the dog was breathing. She watched his chest rise and fall, rise and fall. He was flopped as close to the fire as he could be without being burned. Gabe had set the screen so no ember could fly out, but she suspected he wouldn’t wake even if it did.
He looked like a dog used to being hurt.
Maybe he’d be vicious when he recovered.
Maybe her landlord wouldn’t let her keep a dog.
Was she really thinking about keeping him?
It was just …
The last few weeks had been desolate. It was all very well saying she wanted a sea change, but there wasn’t enough work to fill the day and the night, and the nights were long and silent. She’d left Sydney in rage and in grief, and at night it came back to haunt her.
She also found the nights, the country noises … creepy.
‘Because of guys like you howling on beaches,’ she said out loud, and Horse raised his head and looked at her. Then sighed and set his head down again, as if it was too heavy to hold up.
How could someone throw him off a boat?
A great wounded mutt.
