He held it another moment before punching in the gate code and pulling through.
Caleb stood near the side of the house, Hamilton at his feet, when Wes parked and climbed out.
Wes held up the package as he crossed the yard. “Delivery for Rowan. Just caught the driver at the gate. Do you know where she is, by chance?”
Caleb nodded toward the kennel. “She’s visiting the puppies.”
“I’ll hand deliver it then.”
“Be my guest.”
Wes started toward the kennel door.
He had a feeling that whatever was inside this package would only add more trouble.
CHAPTER 17
Rowan satcross-legged on the clean kennel floor, and six puppies invaded her lap. They were all warm, squirming, and impossibly soft.
Their mama, Juno, appeared to be a chocolate lab. She’d heard her cousin Hadley would be adopting Juno after the puppies found homes—once they were a little older, of course.
The puppies were all brown with patches of white scattered across their faces and paws in no particular pattern. One had a white smudge across its nose that made it look perpetually surprised. Another claimed her knee as a napping spot and fell asleep, twitching every so often.
“That one’s Quirkle, and he’s the runt—and he’s also the troublemaker of the group,” Max Kincaid said from his spot near the wall, nodding toward the puppy currently attempting to chew through her shoelace.
“Naturally, he’s my favorite.” Rowan scooped him up and held him against her chest. He immediately tried to nibble on her chin. “Hi. Yes, I see you.”
Max watched from the other side of Juno’s kennel door, his posture relaxed. He hadn’t made a single comment about hermovies or asked for a photo, which elevated him considerably in her estimation.
The puppy on her knee startled awake, looked around with enormous unfocused eyes, and went back to sleep.
Rowan laughed—a real one, the kind that came without thinking. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
The tension in her shoulders eased in a way that nothing else in the past several days had managed. Not the long drive, not the mountains, not even sitting at the kitchen table with Naomi and Grace.
Something about a sleeping puppy refused to coexist with dread.
The kennel door opened, and Rowan looked up as Wes stepped inside.
He had something in his hand—a padded envelope, rigid and flat, roughly the size of a sheet of paper.
He paused beside her and held it out, his expression neutral. “This just came for you.”
Rowan looked at it.
The words on the front were written block style with a thick black marker. No return address. Los Angeles postmark.
She forced herself to keep her expression neutral as she took the envelope. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Even after she took that package, Wes stayed where he was. His eyes traveled over her face, studying her like he always did.
Then he took a few steps back. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Later,” she murmured absently.
When he was gone, Rowan looked down at the envelope in her hands again.
