left his truck, but hadn’t gone far before a blur of pink and yellow shot from the crowd and collided with his legs.
“Whoa there. Are you okay?” He looked down at the little girl who sat in a heap at his feet. She wore her bright blond hair in pigtails, and her pink short overalls had a row of dancing kittens across the chest.
She turned tear-filled eyes up to him. “My mommy won’t let me have a puppy and it’s not fair!” she wailed.
Jack looked around for some sign of a wayward mom, but saw nothing but a few strangers who looked at the girl with sympathy—and at Jack as if he was responsible for her tears. He dropped to one knee and awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Don’t cry,” he said. “Who is your mommy?”
“She’s the meanest mommy in the whole world!”
“I don’t believe it,” Jack said. The little girl had obviously been dressed with care, and she looked clean and healthy.
She snuffled and glared at him. “She is, too, the meanest,” she said. “She knows how much I want a puppy and she won’t let me have one.”
“Maybe she has a good reason,” Jack said. “Maybe where you live doesn’t allow dogs.”
“We live with my grandma and grandpa and they already have a dog.” The little girl stuck out her lower lip. “But Misty’s old. I want a puppy.”
“Then maybe your grandma and grandpa don’t want another dog. Sometimes we have to take other people’s feelings into consideration.”
“My grandma and grandpa love me. They let me have anything I want. If they knew I wanted a puppy they’d let me have one.”
Jack felt a stab of sympathy for the unknown mother who had to deal with this kind of childhood logic. “I’m sure your mother loves you, too,” he said. Though where was her mother now? “What’s your name?” he added.
“Annie. What’s your name?”
“I’m Jack. Jack Crenshaw.” Should he insist she call him Mr. Crenshaw? The idea made him feel old. He stood and offered Annie his hand. “Why don’t we go find your mother now?”
“Will you ask her if I can have a puppy?”
“I think you need to listen to your mother. If she tells you you can’t have a puppy, maybe you need to wait.”
Annie stuck out her lower lip, and Jack sensed tears threatening. “I tell you what,” he said. “I have a young dog. Maybe your mom would let you visit and play with it.” He crossed his fingers that this would be all right with Mom. He could always ask his secretary to supervise a brief playdate in the meadow behind his office. Nugget would love it.
“Anne Marie Olney! What do you think you’re doing?”
Jack looked up and caught his breath at the sight of Tanya striding toward him. Her long hair billowing around her, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with anger, she resembled a painting he’d once seen of one of the Furies, or some other avenging goddess. With a jolt he realized the girl he’d always thought of as pretty had grown into a very beautiful woman.
“Hello, Tanya,” he said, keeping his expression even, revealing none of the inner turmoil the sight of her caused.
“What are you doing with my little girl?” Her voice was even, but her eyes were fixed on his hand holding Annie’s.
He let go of the child, guilt heating his face, though he knew he’d done nothing wrong. “I found her wandering in the crowd.” He looked down at Annie. Her tears had dried, but if looks could kill, Tanya would be seriously wounded right now. “She seems upset.”
The guilt card was in Tanya’s hand now. “She wants a p-u-p-p-y,” she said. “That’s really not possible right now.”
“Mom, you’re spelling!” Annie protested. “I’m not a baby. I know you’re talking about the puppy.”
Tanya knelt in front of her daughter. She smoothed back Annie’s hair, then took a tissue from her purse and began cleaning her face. She moved with all the efficiency of an experienced mother, but also with great tenderness. That gentleness, combined with the way her jeans stretched across her shapely thighs and the wavy fall of her hair across her shoulders, made Jack feel a little unsteady. The stuck-up city woman he’d written off last night had morphed into this embodiment of everything feminine—sensuous and nurturing and amazingly alluring.
“It’s really not fair that you can’t have a puppy.” Tanya spoke to her daughter in a low, reassuring tone. “It’s not fair that you had to leave California and move here and live with your grandparents, either, but that’s how things are right now.”
Annie sniffed. “I don’t mind living here with Grandma and Granddaddy. I like it here.”
“They love having you live with them. They love you very much. We all do. And one day, I promise you we’ll have a dog. But not right now.” She turned to Jack.
“Thanks for finding her. I didn’t mean to snap at you just now—I was a little upset when she ran away and I lost sight of her in the crowd.”
“I understand.” He admired the way she’d handled a tough situation, but hesitated to say so. He didn’t want her to think he was trying to flatter his way back into her life. Not that she’d welcome him anyway. After all, he’d had the audacity to make something of himself by building the condos she so despised.
A voice over the loudspeaker saved him from having to say anything. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s have a big round of applause for local favorites, Moose Juice.”
Zephyr, who’d donned a rhinestone-studded leather jacket over his ripped jeans and T-shirt, strode to center stage and strummed a rapid-fire series of loud guitar chords. “Here’s a new song I wrote in honor of the Humane Society fund-raiser—‘I’m stayin’ home with my dog because he thinks I’m a better person than you do.’”
Bryan spotted Jack standing with Tanya and joined them. “I thought you were going to get some tools to help us,” he said.
“Sorry. I got sort of sidetracked.”
Bryan glanced at Tanya and grinned. “I understand completely.”
“It was Annie,” Jack protested. “She ran into me and…”
“Shh! I’m trying to hear the song,” Tanya chided.
Jack leaned closer to Bryan and spoke in a whisper. “What did you do about the stage?”
“We just laid the boards up there. It’ll be okay.”
Jack eyed the makeshift plywood bridge between the small stage and the borrowed flatbed trailer. The board dipped in the middle where someone had affixed a microphone stand with crisscrossing layers of duct tape. “It’ll probably be okay if nobody stands on it,” he said.
But his words were drowned out by the chorus—something about a woman treating a man like a dog.
He glanced at Tanya. Annie had stopped crying and now snuggled in Tanya’s arms. Tanya balanced
