"Hey." I duck my head to catch her eyes. "You're not losing anything. You're gaining something. A pain-in-the-ass pilot, a retired K9, a puppy that's going to destroy at least three pairs of your shoes, and a family business in Texas that desperately needs someone who knows what they're doing."
"When you put it that way..."
"Plus, Iron Creek has a bookstore. And a diner. And probably some kind of weird small-town tradition involving livestock."
"Sold." She's smiling again. "I'm very pro-livestock traditions."
"I knew you were a Texas girl at heart."
"I'm a Colorado girl who's agreeing to relocate. Don't get ahead of yourself."
Maverick chooses that moment to wake up, notice we're across the room, and scramble to his feet with a bark. He gallops over, trips over his own paws, and crashes into Callie's legs.
"Graceful," I say.
"He's learning." She picks him up again. "Just like his handler."
"Ouch."
"You walked into that one."
"I did." I wrap my arms around both of them—Callie and the puppy. "But I'd do it again."
She leans into me, Maverick squirming between us. "You're ridiculous."
"You like it."
"I'm starting to."
We stand there in her clinic, surrounded by the smell of antiseptic and dog treats, a puppy trying to eat my watch, and I realize I've never been happier. Never wanted anythingmore than this—this woman, this life, this messy, unplanned, terrifying future.
"So," I say against her hair. "Two weeks?"
"At least. Maybe three."
"I can wait."
"You? Wait? The guy who just showed up at my clinic with a puppy and a rehearsed speech?"
"I'm a changed man."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm patient now. Mature. I'll give you all the time you need."
She tilts her head back to look at me. "And what are you going to do for two weeks while I wrap things up here?"
"Well." I pretend to think. "I could go back to Texas. Get the house ready. Set up the business stuff."
"Or?"
"Or I could stay in Pine Valley. Help you pack. Annoy you daily. Take you to Maggie's for pie."
"The pie is tempting."
"I know."
"And the daily annoyance?"
