Meg slid the bracelet over her hand and rejoined the conversation.
“You look just like the Cowboy Chef!” Carrie insisted.
“Actually, I’m the older twin, so he looks just like me.”
“You’re brothers with the cutest chef on food television? Awesome sauce!” Meg exclaimed.
“Why don’t we go fill our plates and you can hear all about it while we eat,” Margaret suggested. She took charge and herded the girls toward the buffet line.
“Thank you for everything, Cullen. You really shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble and expense.”
“It’s only one evening of my life and it’s the least I can do for your family. If I never meet your girls again they’ll have a personal reminder of a Temple brother—even if they forget about me and only remember the Cowboy Chef.”
He smiled, not the least bit bothered by the shadow his twin cast.
“Shall we?” Sarah suggested.
“After you.” Cullen stepped aside to let her take the lead.
He smiled as he watched the family of women load their plates, but inwardly he shuddered over what the atmosphere must be like in their home. The noise, the bickering, the demands, the drama—all the stuff he did his best to keep out of his life. Anything short of peace and quiet might tempt his old nemesis, anxiety.
What he’d said to Sarah was true. Giving up one evening was an easy gesture to make, especially for one of his students. But a steady diet of this bunch would not simply have him under the covers, it would have him under the bed!
TWENTY STEPS OUTSIDE the pizza parlor door, Hope dug her heels into the sidewalk and pointed toward a maintenance alley beside the restaurant.
“Mama, look!” she insisted.
All heads turned at the urgency in her voice. By the entrance to the alley, a small life shivered, barely noticeable, cowering in the shadow of a Dumpster.
“It’s a puppy!” Hope squealed, and tugged harder on Sarah’s hand in an effort to get closer. “Let’s go get it!”
“Wait!” Meg cried even louder. “It could be rabid.”
“Its ears are too short to be a rabbit.”
“Rabid, not rabbit, you stupid baby,” Meg chided.
“Mona Margaret, what have I told you about name-calling?”
“That it’s ugly, inappropriate and indicates a weak vocabulary,” she said, repeating what Sarah said to her daughters at least twice a day. “But she is a stupid baby sometimes.” Meg always had to have the last word.
The whimper of the animal echoed in the alley.
“Do something!” Hope pleaded.
“Stay put and let me check things out,” Cullen instructed, handing his to-go box of pizza to Sarah.
He made his way cautiously, stopped several feet away and knelt to the dirty concrete. The shaggy thing stood, unfolding long wobbly legs. Cullen rested one hand atop his knee, palm down to allow the puppy to make the first move. Even from a distance Sarah could hear soft murmuring as Cullen appealed to the frightened pup. It slowly crept forward, sniffed cautiously, then retreated behind the safety of the Dumpster.
“Don’t leave him there!” Hope broke the quiet that had enveloped their group, startling everyone.
“Will you shush, please?” Carrie reprimanded her sister, who complied for once in her life.
Cullen crept down the alley and slipped out of sight in the direction the dog had gone. Long moments later he returned, a wad of blond fur enfolded in his arms.
“I thought his mama might be in there, too, but he was all alone,” Cullen explained, keeping his voice low as he got closer.
Sarah kept a tight grip on her youngest daughter, certain Hope’s excitement would spook the already-frightened animal. Cullen moved underneath the glare of the parking lot lights and they could see the puppy, long legs dangling, curly fur in need of a bath, its muzzle shyly tucked beneath Cullen’s elbow.
“Poor thing. He must be lost from his family.” Hope reached up to softly stroke an ear that flopped over Cullen’s arm.
“It’s more likely he was left here on purpose in the hope that someone leaving the restaurant would give him a home,” Sarah’s mother spoke up.
“That’s us!”
“Honey, we can’t take in a dog. We don’t have the room or the money for a pet.” Sarah had to be reasonable, though her heart broke for the animal.
“Grandma?” Hope moved anxious eyes to her grandmother. “Can’t you take it home for us? I’ll give you my allowance to buy it food.”
“Baby girl, we can’t have pets because of your grandfather’s allergies. You wouldn’t want your grandpa to be sneezy and itchy, would you?”
“I guess not.” Her eyes were downcast with sadness. “But if we leave it here it might starve to death.”
“Or get eaten by wolves,” Meg added, to her little sister’s horror.
“Yeah, packs of wolves in mall parking lots are really a hazard in Longview this year,” Carrie deadpanned.
“I suppose I could take it home with me.” Cullen’s suggestion was halfhearted at best.
“For reals?” Hope’s face lit with gratitude as her frown flipped into a smile, exposing the gap in her teeth. She tugged her hand free from Sarah’s and launched her body at Cullen, wrapping her arms fiercely around his legs. “My hero,” she mumbled against his jeans.
Sarah’s eyes sought Cullen’s and she mouthed, “You don’t have to do this.” He gave an affirmative nod and jostled the puppy’s face free so they could get a glimpse of the long snout and huge eyes.
“Judging by the size of his feet, this boy’s gonna require a big house and a fenced yard. I have the room and I’m home a lot so I can’t imagine why not.”
“Can we come visit him whenever we want?”
“Hope, it’s not polite to invite yourself over to somebody else’s home,” Sarah corrected her child.
By now Cullen was probably wishing he’d had his dinner on a TV tray, alone. All three of her girls had become outspoken and unpredictable, and it seemed she was forever apologizing for their words or behaviors.
“Cullen, please excuse my daughter for being so forward. Just because we enjoy having Hope around, she assumes everybody else will instantly welcome her, too.”
“I
