“Go on,” I murmured.
He took one cautious step forward. Then another. His nose touched her fingertips, sniffing carefully before he allowed her to scratch under his chin.
“Good boy,” Rosie whispered.
Hank leaned into her touch for another few seconds before pulling back. He trotted to a shaded spot beneath Rosie's table and settled down with a sigh, his head resting on his paws.
Rosie straightened, brushing her hands on her dress. Her smile reached her eyes—soft, pleased, like she'd just won something precious.
“We'll find him the perfect family.” Rosie looked down at Hank with the kind of confidence I wished I could borrow. “Someone patient who can give this sweet boy a chance.”
“I hope so.” I shifted my weight, Daisy's leash wrapped around my palm. “Older dogs are harder to place. Most families want puppies.”
“Puppies are overrated.” Rosie waved a dismissive hand. “Sure, they're cute, but they also pee everywhere and chew your favorite shoes. Hank's already past all that.”
“Tell that to the adoption applications I don't receive.”
“Then we'll just have to work harder.” Rosie's chin lifted, determination sparking in her eyes. “Besides, someone out there wants exactly what Hank is—calm, independent, perfect for quiet evenings. We just need to find them.”
Her certainty made something warm unfold in my chest. Like maybe she was right. Like maybe today wouldn't end with me loading both dogs back into my truck and trying not to feel like I'd failed them.
“Speaking of puppies.” Rosie's expression brightened. “How's Pudding doing?”
“Better.” I cleared my throat, trying not to think about how I'd woken up this morning because Pudding was snoring directly into my ear. The puppy had been curled on the pillow next to mine, one paw stretched out and resting against my cheek.
Which was ridiculous, because he had a perfectly good kennel in the barn. With soft blankets. And heating pads. Everything a recovering puppy needed.
Except he'd whimpered that first night. Just once. A tiny, broken sound that shot straight through my chest and lodged somewhere near my heart. So I'd brought him inside. Just for one night. Just until he felt safer.
Then he shivered on the kitchen floor, and somehow he'd ended up in my bedroom. For warmth. Medical reasons.
And when he scratched at the bed frame, those big eyes looking up at me like I was the only safe thing in his entire world…
The bed was plenty big enough for both of us.
You're a professional veterinarian,I'd told myself that night.This is completely inappropriate.
Pudding had yawned, showing me his tiny pink tongue, and promptly fallen asleep with his head on my arm.
You're weak,I'd amended.Pathetically, embarrassingly weak.
“He's getting stronger,” I said, keeping my voice neutral. “Starting to play a bit. Learning to trust people.”
Learning to steal my pillow and wake me up with puppy breath.
“That's wonderful!” Rosie's whole face lit up. “I'm so glad he's doing better. I've been thinking about him.”
Of course she had.
“You can visit him.” The offer came out before I could stop it. “At the clinic. If you'd like.”
What am I doing?
But before I could say anything else?—
“Rosie!” Two women appeared at the booth, one blonde, one with dark hair pulled into a ponytail.
Both familiar. Both names hovering just out of reach in my brain.
