“I’ve already takenlotsof pictures,” she told me. “I’ll send you some for the blog.”
“Perfect.” I followed her down the hall, where Violet and the puppies were in their whelping box. Violet’s tail began to wag when she saw me. “She’s settled in so well here with you.”
“Well, I really haven’t done much,” Phoebe said. “But I’m glad she doesn’t hate me.”
“Sorry for complicating your time in Vermont.”
“I’m not as annoyed about it as I thought I would be.” And her smile didn’t look annoyed at all. “I just don’t know what will happen to them when I go back to Boston. I don’t like feeling like I’m responsible for uprooting their lives.”
“You aren’t,” I told her. “Sometimes dogs have to switch foster homes. It happens a lot, actually. It isn’t ideal, but like I told you before, we do the best we can. It’s still better for them than being in the shelter.”
I sat in front of Violet’s pen to look at the puppies while Phoebe flopped on the bed. The pups were all sleeping at the moment, so I spent a few minutes rubbing Violet. I didn’t want her to feel left out now that her little ones had arrived.
“You know,” I said to Phoebe. “If you don’t want to uproot their lives, you could just sell me the house, and I’ll move in with Minnie and Blue, and they can all stay here until they find homes.” I was just teasing—mostly—but I also wasn’t going to give up on buying this house until the rental lockbox was on the front door and Phoebe had left town.
“Taylor…”
“Did you even tell your dad I’m interested in buying?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
“Will you? Please?”
“He’s not going to change his mind,” she said, and I couldn’t tell if her tone was annoyed or just resigned.
“You said he wants to keep the house in the family, but maybe that was when he thought he’d be selling to a total stranger. Your family has known mine for decades, and if I move in here, I’m not moving out. Burlington is my home, and this house is right up the street from my parents. I’d fill it with rescue dogs and live here happily ever after.”
“What about a family of your own?” she asked quietly.
“Sure,” I said. “I’d love one if I meet the right woman.”
“Tell me about her,” Phoebe said, watching me from the bed. “What do you think she’ll be like?”
I shrugged, because the image that immediately filled my brain was a petite pain in my ass with curly brown hair and eyes like melted chocolate. “Well, she’d have to be an animal lover.”
“Of course,” Phoebe agreed.
“And she’d have to love the outdoors and be happy with a simple life here in Vermont. No big-city dreams.”
“No?” she asked, watching me closely out of those chocolate eyes.
“Nope. I love it here, and I never want to leave. Vermont is in my blood.”
“Vacations?” Phoebe asked.
“I haven’t taken many of those,” I said thoughtfully. “But I’m not opposed to the idea. I might like to travel if I had someone to do it with and someone to watch my dogs.”
“I’m sure dog sitters exist around here,” she said, looking amused.
“I’m certain you’re right,” I agreed.
“Then all you need is the right woman to share your life with.”
“Hmm.” I stroked the brown-and-white-spotted puppy, who had woken and was nuzzling against Violet, looking for his next meal. “Well, I’m here ready and waiting.”
But in that moment, it was hard to imagine a woman more perfect than Phoebe, except for the fact that she didn’t live in Vermont.
17
