“Not in the least.”
“Well. I’ll just get your stuff and then you can . . . You can go.”
“Thanks, Lydia.” And for the first time he meant it. Because yeah, he didn’t know what to do with the dog, but finding out that there had been other animals at the place, finding out that his dad had been up to the same awful shit he had always been up to . . . now Remy couldn’t walk away.
That made him feel a hell of a lot more like he needed to get himself involved. He had questioned his decision at first. He hadn’t known what in hell he ought to do.
He had agreed to foster the dog simply out of obligation to Lydia and her family.
But . . . there was more to it than that. His dad had been a terrible man, and Remy didn’t plan on continuing his bloodline. Not ever.
Remy had already made his legacy, thanks to some of the work he’d done in programming. And he was working at making a legacy of his ranch. But some of his duty was going to have to come back to taking care of the animals that his dad had left to die.
It was his burden now. He hadn’t chosen it, just as he hadn’t chosen to be his father’s son.
“All right, I just need to go in the back—”
“Where in the back?”
“Just my utility room.”
“I’ll go with you.”
She nodded. Her house was tidy, but it couldn’t be called spotless. It was definitely the domain of animals. There were three dogs lying on little beds, and their tails thumped when he walked past.
Those dogs didn’t even know him, yet they seemed happy to see him.
Suddenly his throat felt tight.
They went down the hall, and she opened up the back door. There was a neat utility room, filled with different bags of feed, leashes hanging on pegs, and multiple kennels.
“This one on the top shelf,” she indicated, starting to reach upward.
“Don’t do that,” he said. “I’ve got it.”
He moved in front of her and reached past her, grabbing hold of one of the kennels. Then he turned, and that brought them just so they were about an inch apart. She was looking up at him, and for some reason, he noticed for the very first time that Lydia Clay had freckles sprinkled across her nose.
She smelled like wildflowers, vanilla, and something even more delicate.
And her cheeks turned bright red.
The shade of red cheeks turned for one reason and one reason only.
Lord Almighty.
He backed up, tucked the crate underneath his arm, and turned away from her.
“Well. That ought to do it.”
He could hear her expel a large breath. “Yes,” she said. “That should do it.”
“I’ll . . . I’ll give you a heads-up in the morning to let you know how we did.”
“Thanks. I really do appreciate it.”
“And if you can get the information about the horses . . .”
“I will.”
