away. But don’t go near him.”
“This is all my fault. He came out of nowhere. I couldn’t stop—”
He didn’t want to hear her confession now. “Have you ever had a dog?” She didn’t answer. “I didn’t think so. I grew up around dogs and cattle and every other ornery animal there is. We have to be careful.”
She handed him her coat and jogged around the building. He waited for her to appear at the other end of the narrow passageway. The dog was whimpering again in a way that made Danny want to rush to him. Finally, he saw Clover and the dog did, too. It turned to her, and Danny moved slowly forward with the coat in front of him. By the time the dog looked his way, Danny was close enough to drop the Pendleton-patterned jacket over him. Clover hurried from her end of the lane. In the dimness, she whispered over the dog’s low growls and whimpers, “What do we do now?”
“Wait until he calms down. Then we’re going to use the strap on your purse to lead him out of here.”
“This is an Alexander McQueen,” Clover said.
“Do you want to save this dog?”
She didn’t reply, instead taking the strap off her purse, and two minutes later he lifted the brightly colored coat off the dog enough to reveal a dirty collar—thank God. He hadn’t been sure how else he would have gotten the lead on the animal. He clicked on the “leash” and the dog froze. Then Danny lifted the coat at the same time he pulled up on the lead to keep control of its head. After a few feeble attempts to snap, the fight went out of the creature. Its medium-length matted fur was mostly white with brownish-red patches and ears that drooped. Danny could see the gleam of blood on its flank.
There wasn’t a vet in town and the nearest was an hour away. But he knew who could help. Angel Crossing’s physician’s assistant Pepper Bourne treated humans; she could care for dogs, too. He hoped. “Clover, can you get to your phone?”
“Are you going to call the dog catcher?” she accused.
“I want you to phone Angel Crossing Medical Clinic and speak with Pepper Bourne. I bet she can fix him up.”
“Oh.” Clover sounded both confused and a little sorry. He gently led the limping and whimpering dog from the lane. He only half listened to Clover’s side of the phone conversation.
“Pepper says she can’t work on him at the clinic. Can you take him out to the ranch?”
“Tell her we’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Thank you,” Clover said. She stepped forward. He moved his head a fraction of an inch, from habit, from want, and the peck she’d been ready to land on his cheek found its home on his lips. Like biting into the ripest peach, the taste of her exploded in his mouth. He pulled her close with his free arm. She didn’t protest. Her mouth opened under his and the peaches became spicy with need. This was not the kiss of fumbling, horny teens. This had nothing to do with their past at all. This was its own connection. One that Danny hadn’t known before. He deepened the kiss, explored her mouth and her amazing curves. None of it was enough because of this suddenly huge feeling between them.
The dog yanked on its leash and he stepped away. The ache and the need were not what he wanted. He hadn’t kissed her for that. He had kissed her because— “Let’s go,” he said, knowing his voice growled like the dog’s. He didn’t care. He was only helping her now because he couldn’t let this dog suffer.
* * *
“YOU’RE LUCKY I keep a kit here at the house,” Pepper said as she stitched. At least Clover assumed the other woman with a honey-colored ponytail was stitching, since Clover had stopped watching.
“We need a vet closer than Tucson,” Danny commented.
“I know. It costs us a fortune when we bring someone here for Faye’s walking yarn balls, aka my mother’s alpacas and llamas,” she said to Clover. “Hang on. This might be a problem.”
“What?” Danny asked anxiously. She remembered the dog he’d had when they’d first met. It’d had only one eye.
“She’s pregnant.”
“She? Puppies?” Danny sounded both stunned and aggrieved. “Who would dump her?”
Clover’s stomach lurched. She’d hit a pregnant dog? Jeez. If there was ever a reason to go to hell, that had to be it. “Do you think they’ll be okay?”
“I can feel them moving, so I guess they’re good. Since I can feel them, I would also say that she’s fairly far along. You’ll have to take her to the vet to know for certain. The wound wasn’t as bad as it looked. I’d keep her quiet for the next couple of days and come back in a week for me to take the stitches out, if you can’t get to the vet or her owner doesn’t come forward. Definitely keep a bandage on it in the meantime.”
If Clover hadn’t felt so bad for the dog, she would have laughed at Danny’s stunned face. “Thanks. What do we owe you?” she asked.
“No charge,” Pepper said. “Faye wouldn’t let me. This is Angel Crossing.”
Clover didn’t know what that comment meant. Danny lifted the dog carefully and carried it...her to the truck. Puppies. This had gotten complicated quick.
“What was the name of your dog?” Clover asked when they were on the road with the dog’s head on Danny’s lap, where she was snoring softly. The rest of her limp body draped across the old-fashioned bench seat of his pickup and half onto Clover’s lap.
“Which one?”
“The one you had when we met. He only had one eye.”
“That was Jack because of the eye.”
“I don’t get it,” she said after a moment of trying to make the connection.
“Like the card. The one-eyed Jack.”
A laugh leaked out. “You never told me that.”
“We weren’t big on talking.”
She couldn’t deny that. Most of their conversations had been about how to fool around and make sure no one found out. What a summer that had been. So exciting and happy and sad and scary, especially looking back and knowing that she’d nearly ditched college to be with Danny. And the kiss they’d just shared? The one neither of them seemed willing to acknowledge now. The dog whimpered, and she reached out to soothe her.
Danny spoke again. “We had a good time.”
She smiled because that was what she’d been more or less thinking. They’d been like that, finishing each other’s sentences, or he’d call her just as she got her phone out to call him. “It was a long time ago, and we were very young.”
“Not you. You were eighteen. A woman of experience.”
“That just meant I’d been somewhere other than a ranch or a rodeo. You know I was a—” She stopped herself because what she would say next sounded so silly and juvenile. They’d both been virgins when they’d finally been able to sneak off for a few hours one night. They’d done the deed. She’d refused to admit it to him or anyone else
