therapists, rarely met a stranger, but it was the man who bothered Abby. He couldn’t be for real. She knew that for a fact. People were nice in the beginning but after a while, they’d disappoint you.
Someday Lila would learn those things the hard way, a truth that made Abby ache. But today Lila was an innocent, trusting child clearly fascinated by the idea of a real dog, something she’d never had.
“Does he like little girls?” Lila asked.
“Crazy for them.”
“Will he jump on me?”
“Not if I tell him to be good.”
“I want to pet him.” In total trust, Lila reached her arms up toward Brady. “Let’s go.”
“Do you mind?” he said, rather belatedly to Abby.
Abby scoffed softly. Even if she minded, he’d put her in an impossible situation. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
She wanted to ask why he’d bother when he’d come to discuss the remodel, but instead she said, “Go ahead. She loves animals, especially dogs.”
Those mesmerizing blue eyes sparkled. “I gathered that by her reaction to the stuffed one.” To Lila, he said, “Come on, little one. Up you go.”
He dwarfed her child, this huge man with the handsome face and stunning eyes, but he was as gentle as a whisper as he lifted Lila into his arms.
A big, big man. Her tiny, precious girl.
Something tender moved inside Abby.
She whipped away to open the door, but Brady with his long stride beat her there and easily maneuvered both the door and the child.
“Watch that board,” she warned, suddenly scared that his superior size would send him plummeting with Lila as she had done.
“Got it.” He stepped over the opening.
Abby walked alongside, aware of Brady Buchanon in the most uncomfortable way. His kindness bewildered her. Not once since his arrival had he mentioned the makeover. Or the fact that she was the Buchanon charity case for the year.
The twenty-dollar bill was in her back pocket. She should return it, remind him that she didn’t want his pity or his charity and that she was only accepting the makeover for Lila’s sake. Even that stuck in her craw like a dry slice of toast. She wanted to provide for her daughter.
As they approached the blue pickup, a large brindle-colored dog with soulful golden eyes and a sweet expression stuck his head out the open driver’s-side window.
“He thinks he can drive,” Brady said, eliciting a giggle from Lila. “You can pet him. He’s a big sap. He’ll love it.”
Lila placed a tentative hand on the dog’s wide head. When he didn’t move, only looked at her with those sweet eyes, she ruffled his ears. “Can he come out and play?”
“Sure. Open the door for him, will you, Abby?” He said the words casually, and she could see he felt comfortable with people in a way she didn’t. But then, the Buchanons were a large family.
She opened the truck door, and the dog named Dawg leaped gracefully to the ground and stared up at his owner as if waiting for commands.
“Sit down, Dawg. This is Lila and Abby. Friends. Be good now.”
The dog flopped on his rear, long tail bumping the ground with comical eagerness. Brady went down on the balls of his feet in front of the animal with Lila on one khaki-clad knee. Abby watched as Dawg behaved like a gentleman while Lila petted him.
“He likes me,” Lila said.
“He sure does. Hold your hand out like this.” Brady took Lila’s tiny hand and turned it palm up. “Now say, ‘Dawg, shake.’”
Lila did as Brady asked. When Dawg carefully plopped a furry paw into her palm, her giggle sent happy chills down Abby’s spine.
“He did it! Mommy, Dawg shaked my hand.”
“Is he always this well behaved?” Abby asked.
“Pretty much. I take him on the job with me.” Brady hitched a shoulder. “Basically take him everywhere. He has to behave or be stuck at home alone.”
“Do you let him inside the house?”
“Sure. He sleeps at the end of my bed.”
Okay, that was too much information. She didn’t want to imagine a sleep-rumpled Brady in baggy pajama pants. He was a builder, here to do a job.
“Mama, can he come inside? Dawg can sit by me. I’ll show him my shapes.”
Abby hesitated. To Brady, she said, “Should I let him?”
“Up to you, but he won’t be a problem. I can promise you that.”
Promises. She knew how those worked.
“I suppose it’s all right this once. What kind of dog is he?”
“Anyone’s guess. Some boxer, shepherd, Lab. Who knows? I got him from the shelter, but we don’t care, do we, pal? We’re all mutts in our way.” With one final pat on the dog’s head, Brady rose with Lila. The dog trotted along behind as they returned to the house.
Abby was keenly aware of the man who gently put her daughter on the floor mat, commanded the dog to behave and followed Abby into the kitchen.
Uncomfortable and uncertain, she asked, “Do you want to talk while we eat? Or after?”
This was not a social call. He’d surely want to do his business and move on. The Buchanons were busy people, involved in many segments of Gabriel’s Crossing life.
“Might as well eat while the barbecue and fries are hot. Talk can happen anytime.”
Though her kitchen-dining space was minuscule and made smaller by the invasion of a man the size of some mythological warrior, Brady made himself at home. He opened cabinets, found plates and knives, and generally embarrassed her.
“I can do this,” she said, grabbing the utensils from him.
“Many hands make light work.” He grinned. “That’s according to my Grandfather Buchanon who started the construction company. Having a bunch of grandsons made work easier for him.”
She quickly set out the dishes and food, going a little mushy to discover a foam container of macaroni in the bag.
He’d remembered Lila’s love of all things macaroni?
Who was this guy?
“I’ll get the little one,” he said, and ducked his head beneath the doorway as he went into the living room.
During their meal, Brady talked about everything but the makeover. He
