Misty and the Single Dad

CHAPTER FIVE

SHE needed to visit Gran. She needed to find her balance.

Once Nick and Bailey were out of sight she settled Ketchup back into her car. He’d be best off sleeping in his basket at home, but every time she walked away he started shaking.

She could worry about Ketchup. She couldn’t worry about Bailey and his father.

She couldn’t think about Bailey’s father.

Was it only yesterday she’d been celebrating Adonis arriving in her classroom? One touch and her equilibrium was shattered.

Think about the dog. Much, much safer.

‘You’ve sucked me in,’ she murmured. ‘Where did you come from, and how exposed have you made me? Oh, Ketchup.’

But he hadn’t made her exposed-he’d simply shown her what life was. Yurts were fantasy. Ketchup was real.

Bailey was real.

She was a total sucker.

‘I’m sorry, but you and your dad are on your own.’ She’d watched Bailey’s face as she’d said it and she’d seen him become…stoical.

She’d been stoical at six. For all her bravado about not needing her mother…surviving on postcards had hardly been survival at all.

She’d ached to go with her. Other kids had mothers. She’d got postcards in the mail.

Bailey got nothing.

He had his dad. It was more than she’d ever had.

No, she told herself sharply. She’d had grandparents who loved her. But grandparents never, ever made up for what a mother was supposed to be. She had a clear idea of what was right, even at six.

‘So you’re thinking you can possibly turn yourself into a substitute mother for Bailey? Take them in and coddle them?

‘Of course I can’t.’ She was talking to herself, out loud, the habit of a woman who lived alone.

‘Why not? The place they’re in is awful. You’ve been looking for tenants for months. Bailey would love living with Ketchup. Why reject them out of hand?

‘Because Nicholas scares me.’

Think about it.

She did think.

She couldn’t stop thinking.

She was out of her mind.

‘Why can’t we live with Miss Lawrence?’

There were a million reasons. He couldn’t tell his son any of them.

Except one.

‘You heard her. She said no. I think Miss Lawrence likes living alone.’

‘She doesn’t. She said she tried to rent part of her house. And we wouldn’t have to move furniture.’

Why was he blessed with a smart kid with big ears?

‘Maybe she wants a single person. Maybe another lady.’

‘We’re better than a lady.’ Bailey wriggled down into his seat and thought about it. ‘It’d be good. I really like Ketchup.’

Nick thought Ketchup was okay, too. Ketchup and Bailey touching noses. Bailey truly happy for the first time since his mother died. Ketchup had made him smile.

‘Maybe we could get our own dog,’ he said and then he heard what he’d said and couldn’t believe it.

Here was a perfect example of mouth operating before head. Was he out of his mind? Where were his resolutions?

But he’d said it, and it was too late to haul it back. Bailey’s face lit like a Christmas tree. ‘We can get a dog?’ he breathed.

‘Maybe we can,’ he said, feeling winded. ‘Seeing as we can’t live with Miss Lawrence.’

But Bailey had moved past Miss Lawrence. He was only seeing four legs and a tail. ‘I can have a dog of my own?’

Miss Lawrence had a lot to answer for, he decided. His plans had not included a dog. ‘A young dog,’ he said. That, at least, was sensible. A young healthy dog wouldn’t cause grief. A young dog probably wouldn’t cause grief.

He’d have to reinforce fences, he thought. He’d have to keep the dog safe, too.

‘He’ll be able to play with Ketchup,’ Bailey said, not hearing his reservations. He was almost rigid with excitement. ‘Do you think we can find a dog who’ll touch noses? Me and Ketchup touch noses. Like you and Miss Lawrence touch hands.’

‘That’s got nothing to do…’

But Bailey wasn’t listening. The touching hands thing was simply a passing fact. ‘Dogs are great,’ he said, breathless and wondering. This was turning into a very good day in the World According to Bailey, and he was starting to plan. ‘We’ll be able to take our dog to visit Ketchup. We’ll all have picnics on the beach. We’ll all still be able to touch.’

What was a man to say to that?

‘Can we build a kennel?’

‘I…yes.’

‘I can’t wait to tell Miss Lawrence,’ Bailey said.

‘We may not see Miss Lawrence until Monday.’

‘We need to get our furniture,’ Bailey said happily. ‘We’ll see her tomorrow. Can we get a dog tomorrow?’

‘Do you think having Nicholas Holt and his son as tenants is a bad idea?’ It was a bad idea. There were complications on every side. She shouldn’t even think it but Bailey’s expression wouldn’t go away. Bailey’s need.

What was it in him that had touched such a chord within?

Other kids lost mothers.

It was the way he’d touched noses with Ketchup, she thought. She’d watched him find huge pleasure in that simple contact, and she remembered how important dogs had been to her as a child. Bailey couldn’t go his whole life without a mother-and without a dog.

If they became her tenants he’d share Ketchup. Ketchup would be on Bailey’s bed in no time. Kid and dog. Perfect fit.

Their house was truly appalling. Bailey’s suggestion was even sensible.

If only she could ignore Nicholas.

She was a grown woman. Could a grown woman get her hormones under control enough to consider a sensible plan?

Surely she could.

Misty set the whole thing in front of Gran, and Gran considered it. Misty knew she did. Gran did a lot of considering these days.

Gran’s eyes were closed tonight but, when Misty settled Ketchup on her bedclothes, against Gran’s hand, she saw Gran’s fingers move against his furry coat. Just a little, convulsively, as if she was remembering something she’d forgotten.

Gran loved dogs.

Love was a dangerous concept, Misty thought. She’d fallen for Ketchup, she was falling for Bailey, and where were her plans now? In a muddle, that was where.

‘I shouldn’t have agreed to keep Ketchup.’

Gran’s fingers moved again.

‘You’re a soft touch, too. We both are.’ She lifted Gran’s spare hand to her cheek. ‘Oh, Gran, this is dumb. I have fallen for Ketchup, and I would like someone living in the other side of my house. Bailey needs a good place to live and it’s sensible. It’s just…Nick touched me. I’m scared I’ll get involved and I want to be free. But free’s not an option. I’m being dumb.’

She had to let her plans go.

She already had, she thought, or she almost had, the moment she’d fallen for Ketchup. And maybe letting her plans go was her only option.

Six months ago, the doctors had told her Gran had weeks to live. But Gran was still here, and there was no thought of her dying. And in the end… How could Misty possibly dream of a future with Gran not here?

Ketchup was deeply asleep now. He’d had a huge day for an injured dog. She should have him at home, right now.

‘It’s okay to live alone,’ she told her grandmother. ‘I don’t need anyone to help me care for Ketchup, and I don’t need complications.’

Gran’s hand slid sideways. The tiny moment of awareness was gone.

Misty’s thoughts telescoped, out of frame. To a future without Gran?

She’d thought of what she’d do when Gran was gone, but now…Gran was here but not here, and she could well be like this for years.

The future looked terrifying. Living in that great house alone. Never leaving this town.

What to do?

Since Gran’s first stroke she’d been trying to plan, trying to figure her future. But in truth she’d been planning since before she could remember. Making lists.

Maybe she should stop planning and just…be.

She wouldn’t mind Nicholas and his little son living next door. It wasn’t exactly a bleak thought.

She wouldn’t need to rush home to feed Ketchup on nights when she had to stay back at school.

That was a sensible thought.

And then… Another sensible thought. The resurgence of the dream.

‘You know, if anything happened to Gran,’ she told Ketchup as she settled him back into her car. ‘Just saying… If it did, and if Nicholas and Bailey were living in my house… They could look after you while I tried out a yurt. Just for a while.’

Yes. Her dream re-emerged, dusted itself off, settled back into the corner of her mind, where it had been a comfort for years.

‘You’re making me realign my existence,’ she told Ketchup. ‘Two days ago, I was alone. What are you doing with my life?’

Ketchup looked at her and shifted his tail, just a little, but enough to make her smile. She did want this dog.

‘Maybe you’re my nemesis,’ she told him. ‘I thought Gran’s death would be the thing that changed my life. Maybe it’s you.’

She bent over to hug him and got a lick for her pains.

‘Enough.’ She chuckled. ‘I’m not used to kisses.’

A kiss. A touch? She was thinking again of Nick’s hand on hers. The strength of his fingers. The warmth of skin against skin.

Ketchup wasn’t her only nemesis. There was something about Nicholas that was messing with her plans in a far bigger way. In a way that was much more threatening.

She had to be sensible, she told herself. She had a dog and a grandmother and a house that was too big for her. And if there was something about Nicholas that scared her…

Yep, she just had to be sensible.

He’d agreed to get a dog.

Bailey had gone to sleep planning dog kennels. Tomorrow they’d build a kennel and they’d start to make this place habitable. They were settled. Here.

He’d leased this place for three months. He’d find somewhere else after that, maybe near the school. It’d be okay.

He and Bailey and dog-a young healthy dog-could live happily ever after.

So what was there in that to make him stare up at the ceiling and think…and think…?

And think of Misty.

She tossed the concept around all night and in the morning there was only one answer.

So ask him. Now, before she chickened out.

She didn’t have Nick’s cellphone number. She could go into school and fetch his parent file, only she’d have to drive past his house to get it. Which was stupid. Cowardly, even.

Ketchup was deeply asleep. She’d had him in a basket beside her bed all night. At dawn he’d stirred. She’d taken him outside and he’d smelled the sea and sniffed the grass. He looked a hundred per cent on yesterday. She’d cuddled him and cooked them both breakfast. He’d eaten two bacon rashers and half a cup of dog food and returned to his basket.

He was now fast asleep on Gran’s old woollen cardigan and he didn’t look as if he’d stir any time soon.

Unlike Misty, who was stirring so much she felt as if she was going nuts.

It was eight o’clock. The world must surely be awake.

So ask him now.

He heard the knock as he stood under the shower. Which was cold. The hot water service gave exactly thirty seconds of tepid water. ‘Bailey…’

‘I heard,’ Bailey yelled, sounding excited, which was pretty much how he’d sounded since Nick had said the D word last night.

‘Don’t answer it.’ He groped for his towel, swearing under his breath. It could be anyone out there. Do not take risks.

‘Bailey, don’t…’ he yelled again but it was too late. There was a whoop of pleasure from the hall.

‘It’s Miss Lawrence. Dad, it’s Miss Lawrence. She’s come to visit.’

Bailey was still in his pyjamas, clutching his teddy, rumpled from sleep. He was beaming with pleasure to see her. He looked adorable.

He also looked big with news. He was jiggling up and down, stammering with excitement.

‘I’m getting a dog,’ he told her before she could say a word, and she blinked in astonishment.

‘A what?’

‘A dog.’ He did another jig. ‘We’ve talked about it. I think we should look at the lost dogs’ home ’cos Dad says Ketchup was from the dogs’ home and he’s good. But I want a dog who can run. Dad says I can choose but he can’t be old. And he can’t be sick. We’re going to build a dog kennel, only Dad says he doesn’t know if we can buy wood and stuff on Sunday.’

His joy was enough to make the hardest heart melt, and Misty’s wasn’t all that hard to start with. A dog of his own…

This little boy had lost his mother in dreadful circumstances. His only friend was his father. But now… To have his own dog…

‘That’s…’ But she never got to answer.

Nick strode from the bathroom, snapping orders. ‘Bailey, don’t answer the door to strangers…’

He was wearing nothing but boxers.

Misty was a woman with sound feminist principles. She didn’t gasp. She didn’t even let her knees buckle, which she discovered they were more than willing to do. Women with feminist principles did not gasp at the sight of near naked men. Nor did they allow their knees to buckle, even if they wanted to.

Nick had towelled in a hurry and he wasn’t quite dry. His bare tanned chest was still wet. More, it sort of glistened under the hall light. This was a male body which belonged…which belonged somewhere else but in her universe.

‘H…hi,’ she managed, and was inordinately proud she’d made her voice work.

‘It’s Miss Lawrence,’ Bailey told Nick unnecessarily. He was still jiggling. ‘I told her we’re getting a dog.’

‘Why are you here?’ There was a pause, and Nick seemed to collect himself. It was possible he hadn’t intended to sound as if she might be a child-snatcher. He took a deep breath, started again. ‘Sorry. Obviously I need to get used to country hours. So…’ He hesitated and tried a smile. ‘You’ve already milked the cows, churned the butter…’

‘Swilled the pigs and chewed the buttercups,’ she agreed, managing to smile back. She might be disconcerted, but Nick looked even more disconcerted. Which was kind of…nice. To have such a body disconcerted because of her…

Get serious, she told herself, but it was really hard to be serious in the face of those pecs.

‘It’s me who should be sorry,’ she managed. ‘Ketchup woke me at dawn and I’ve been thinking. Actually, I was even thinking last night.’

‘Thinking?’

‘That maybe I was wrong to knock Bailey back so fast.

‘That maybe it’s not a bad idea at all. That maybe it might suit us all if you share my house.’

Silence.

More silence.

Whatever reaction she’d expected, it wasn’t this. Nick was staring at her as if he wasn’t quite sure who-or what-she was.

As well he might. He’d only met her yesterday. What sort of offer was this?

But they didn’t need to be friends to be a landlady and tenant, she reminded herself. They hardly needed to know each other. This was business.

Still there was silence. She wasn’t quite sure how to break it, and finally Bailey did it for her. ‘We can live with you?’ he breathed, and his question hauled her straight down to earth.

Uh oh. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was not strictly business. Here was the first complication. A basic principle of teaching: don’t make children excited before plans are definite. She and Nick should have had this conversation out of Bailey’s hearing.

What had she been thinking, just to blurt it out?

She knew what she’d been thinking about. This was all about Nicholas Holt’s wet, glistening body. It had knocked the sense right out of her. Understandably, she decided. There was something about Nicholas Holt that was enough to throw any right-minded woman off balance.

‘If your father thinks it’s a good idea,’ she managed, struggling to make it good. She allowed herself to glance again at that glistening body and she thought maybe she’d made a king-sized fool of herself.

He was still looking at her as if she’d grown two heads. That was what she felt like, she decided. As if there was the one-headed Miss Lawrence, the woman who made sense. And the two-headed one who was making all sorts of mistakes.

No matter. She’d made her offer.

If he wanted to live with a two-headed twit then she’d left herself open for it to happen.

She was asking him to live with her?

No. She was asking if he’d like to rent the spare side of her gorgeous house.

Nick was cold. This house was cold.

He’d tried to make toast and the fuse had blown. Half the house was now without electricity. He’d checked the fuse box and what he saw there made him wince. This house wasn’t just bad, it was teetering on unsafe.

There were possums-or rats-in the roof. He’d lain awake all night trying to decide which.

A breeze was coming up through the floorboards.

This was not a suitable house for Bailey. He’d made that decision at about four o’clock this morning in between muttering invective at possums. He needed to go find the letting agent, throw back his keys, threaten to sue him for false advertising, find somewhere else… Before tonight?

But here was Misty, warm and smiling and friendly, saying come and live in her house, with her squishy old furniture, with a veranda that looked over the sea, with Misty herself…

Um…take Misty out of the equation fast, he told himself. This was a business proposition. A good one?

Maybe it was. It’d get him out of immediate trouble. To have his son warm and comfortable and safe…

He wouldn’t need to get a dog.

He looked down at Bailey. Bailey looked up at him with eyes that were pure pleading.

A comfortable house by the sea. No dog. Misty.

This was a very sensible plan.

‘We accept.’

He accepted? Just like that? The two words seemed to make Misty’s insides jolt. What had she just done?

But Nick was sounding cautious, as well he might. She was feeling cautious. What sort of crazy impulse had led her here?

For, as soon as he accepted, complications crowded in. Or maybe as soon as she’d seen his wet body complications had crowded in, but she’d been so overwhelmed she’d made the offer before she thought. And now…

Now he’d accepted. Warily. So where to take it from here?

This was still sensible, she told herself. Stick to business. She needed to avoid looking at his body and remember what she’d planned to say.

‘You might need to think about it,’ she managed. ‘You…you’ll need to agree to my rent. And we’d need to set up rules. We’d live on opposite sides of the house. You’d look after yourselves. No shared cooking or housework. Separate households. I’m not turning into your housekeeper.’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to.’ He raked his fingers through his damp hair, looking flummoxed. ‘You’re serious?’

‘I think I am.’ Was she serious? She was probably seriously nuts-but how did a girl back out now? She couldn’t.

A sudden gust of wind hit the outside of the house and blew straight through the floorboards. This house was colder inside than out, she thought. Bailey shouldn’t be here and Nick knew it.

‘Would there be gossip?’ he asked.

So he knew how small towns worked. He was right. In most small towns, gossip would be an issue.

But there was never gossip about her, Misty thought, feeling suddenly bitter. She was Banksia Bay’s good girl. It’d take more than one man and his son to mess with the stereotype the locals had created for her.

‘It’ll be fine,’ she told him. ‘The town knows I’m respectable and they know I’ve been looking for a tenant for months. And people already know about Bailey. Believe it or not, I’ve had four phone calls already saying how can you-you, Nicholas Holt-take care of a recuperating child in this house, and why don’t I take pity on you and ask you to move into my place?’

And every one of those calls had been engineered by Fred. The old vet was a Machiavellian busybody.

She loved him to bits.

‘So all I need to do is tell the people who’ve suggested it how brilliant they are,’ she added.

And keep this businesslike, she added to herself, because, respectable or not, any sniff of anything else would get around so fast…

But, in truth, Banksia Bay might decide anything else was a good thing, she thought, letting herself wallow in bitterness a bit longer. The locals knew of her dreams, but they flatly rejected the idea she could ever leave. They’d approve of anything that kept her here.

Despite that, she was still fighting to get herself free. And this could help. Having people share her house. Share Ketchup.

Businesslike was the way to go, she told herself again. Adonis or not, involvement messed with her dreams.

As did the sight of Nicholas Holt’s bare chest.

But in her silence Nick had been thinking. ‘It could work well,’ he said slowly. ‘We can share Ketchup.’

Here was an echo of her thoughts. ‘Share?’

‘I told Bailey if we didn’t move into your house we’d get a dog.’

‘Dad…’ Bailey said, unsure.

‘We don’t need our own dog if we have Ketchup,’ Nick said. And all the colour went from Bailey’s face, just like that. All the joy. He’d opened the door for Misty looking puffed up like a peacock, a six-year-old with all the pleasure in the world before him.

Right now, he looked as if he’d been slapped.

‘But you said,’ Bailey whispered. Nick had seen Bailey’s colour fade. In two strides he was beside him, lifting him up into his arms. Holding him close. ‘Don’t you want to stay with Miss Lawrence and Ketchup?’ he asked.

‘Yes, but I want a dog of my very own,’ Bailey whispered.

‘We don’t need…’ Nick started but Misty shook her head. She’d looked at Bailey and thought yes, he does. He does need a dog of his own.

Sharing wouldn’t cut it.

Misty had had a solitary childhood, living out of town with her elderly, invalid grandparents. Her dogs had meant everything to her.

Last night she’d seen an echo of that. Noses on the beach. Ketchup.

Bailey was a great kid. She knew him well enough to realise he’d take great care of a dog.

So say it.

‘What if I give you Ketchup?’ she said, and both guys looked at her as if she’d just declared she was selling her grandmother.

‘But Ketchup’s yours,’ Bailey whispered, appalled. ‘He knows he is. He told me.’

‘I’ve only just got him,’ Misty said gently. ‘He doesn’t really know me. You and Ketchup had a wonderful game on the beach last night.’

‘I want my dog and Ketchup to be friends.’

And Nick obviously had qualms as well, but they were different qualms. ‘The vet says Ketchup’s close to ten years old,’ he said.

Now it was Misty’s turn to look at Nick as if he was selling his grandmother.

‘So?’

‘So he’ll…’

‘He’ll what?’ she said dangerously.

‘If we must get a dog, we’ll get a young one. Ketchup will cause you grief.’

‘Everyone causes you grief,’ she said. ‘That’s what loving’s about. Like you. You love Bailey so you promised him a dog.’

‘I didn’t actually promise.’

‘You did,’ Bailey said and buried his face in his father’s shoulder.

‘I believe I said if we didn’t live with Miss Lawrence.’

His explanation didn’t help at all. Bailey’s sob was truly heart-rending-and Nicholas looked at her as if she’d personally caused this.

Enough. This was crazy. She was starting to feel as if she was causing nothing but heartache.

The sight of Nick hugging Bailey was doing weird things to her. Nick with his gorgeous body. Nick with the way he loved his son.

And Bailey? Somehow this small boy had managed to twist his way right around her heart.

Bailey’s pyjama sleeve was hitched up as he clung round his father’s neck. She could see the savage mark of the bullet, and the scars from the surgery after.

She was messing with Bailey by being here, she decided. Nick had had this sorted, and now she’d come in with an offer that was messing with Bailey’s dreams.

Nick would find somewhere else to live. She didn’t actually need these two guys in her house. Not if it messed with dreams.

‘I believe I need to rescind,’ she said before she could think it through any further.

‘Sorry?’ Nick sounded stunned.

‘My offer is withdrawn.’ She took a deep breath and met his gaze square on. ‘Bailey needs a dog.’

‘Not if he gets to share yours.’

‘He’s not sharing mine. I no longer want you as tenants. Not if it means Bailey misses out on a dog of his own.’

Once again, that look as if she had two heads. ‘This is ridiculous.’

‘It is,’ she said, but then she thought that it wasn’t. She thought of the white-faced little boy on Friday night, grabbing his teddy as soon as he got home. She thought of him last night on the beach, touching noses with Ketchup.

A dog of his own would be perfect.

But Nick’s face…

How had this happened? He was stuck if he did, and stuck if he didn’t.

So help him out. Make his decision for him. She’d always fought for her students’ needs. For Bailey, there was never going to be a better time to fight than right now.

‘So you’re saying…’ Nicholas said slowly.

‘That I’m no longer offering you my house. Unless,’ she said softly, watching Bailey, ‘Bailey has his own dog.’

Nick’s face turned to thunder.

‘Henrietta Farnsworth runs the Animal Welfare,’ she said, briskly efficient now she saw her way. Or Nick’s way. ‘It’s only open weekdays, but on Sundays she feeds and cleans at eleven. You could go choose a dog and then accept my very kind offer by midday.’

‘This is blackmail.’ Nick’s growl was truly menacing, but Bailey had turned to look at her and his look strengthened her resolve. She grinned at Bailey and she winked.

‘I agree with Bailey. He needs his own dog.’

‘Dogs cause you grief. I don’t want Bailey to face that kind of hurt.’

‘You’re saying you won’t get a dog because eventually you might lose him? What sort of argument is that? You’re living in the country now. Country kids know about birth and death. Natalie’s dad’s cow lost one of her twins yesterday. Natalie will tell everyone all the gory details on Monday morning. It’s sad but it happens. You can’t shield Bailey for ever. Choose a young dog and take your chances.’

Silence. She let the silence run.

Nick set Bailey down and Bailey had the sense to remain silent. Nick raked his fingers through his hair again. She’d first noticed him doing it yesterday, when he was drawing his plans for her yurt. His long strong fingers, running through thick wavy hair, had made her feel… Was making her feel…

Uh oh. Let’s not go there.

But she was there. Maybe this man was going to live just through the wall from her.

She shivered, but not with cold.

But he was still coming at her with arguments. ‘I didn’t mean to promise Bailey a dog,’ he started.

She was ready for him this time, growing firmer. ‘Yes, you did or you wouldn’t have said it.’

‘It was a rash moment.’

‘You’ll love a dog. You saw Ketchup and Bailey together. You’ll both love a dog.’

‘But Ketchup’s recuperating.’ He was starting to sound helpless. Helpless and sexy. It seemed an incredibly appealing, incredibly masculine combination.

Stop it. She was a respectable schoolteacher, she told herself. She was a potential landlady. Listen to what he’s saying.

‘Ketchup doesn’t need company.’ His arguments were getting weaker.

‘Ketchup doesn’t need a rough companion,’ she agreed. ‘Or not at first. But we can keep them separate. Like you and I will be separate. I want tenants, not friends.’

‘Really?’

She drew her breath in on that one. Really?

‘We can meet on the veranda occasionally,’ she conceded.

‘And Bailey can play with Ketchup,’ he said, fast. ‘See, he doesn’t need a dog of his own.’

‘I do,’ Bailey said.

‘He does,’ she said. ‘But this is no longer my call. Talk to your son about it. I’m happy to welcome you, your son and your dog into my house, or I’m happy to continue living alone. I need to check on Ketchup. Let me know.’

Enough. She’d thrown her hat into the ring.

Now it was up to him.

‘Up to you,’ she said and she turned and walked back down the veranda steps and drove away.

What had she done?

Nicholas Holt had just backed himself into a very small corner.

Maybe he’d be angry. Maybe he’d decide that yes, he’d buy a dog, but they wouldn’t move into her place. If he thought she was a blackmailer, they just might.

Maybe he’d tell Bailey that yes, he’d buy him a dog, but not till, say, Christmas. Or when he reached twenty-one.

Ketchup was awake and watching for her. He hopped stiffly out of his basket, balancing on three legs as he nudged her ankles. He had a world of worry in his eyes.

‘That makes two of us worried. But I don’t know why I am,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want them to move here. It’d cause complications.’

But she was lying. She did want them to move here. She wanted complications.

‘Only because I can’t have my yurt for a while longer,’ she muttered. ‘I need to let it go.’

She had let it go. And maybe she’d just let prospective tenants go.

‘I’ve pushed him too far,’ she told Ketchup.

Maybe he wasn’t as wealthy as the Internet suggested. She knew the guy who owned the house he was in. He’d have demanded rent in advance.

Nick was already paying an expensive veterinary bill. He hadn’t asked her how much she intended charging. Maybe… Maybe…

Maybe she was a complete fool. And the way he made her feel… What was she doing, hoping the phone would ring?

The phone rang.

She let it ring five times. It wouldn’t do to be eager.

On the sixth ring she lifted it. ‘Yes?’ She was gearing herself for a blunt refusal. Anger. Maybe he had the right to be angry.

‘You need to help me,’ Nick said, sounding goaded.

‘How can I do that?’

‘You need to help my son choose a dog,’ he said. ‘What time did you say this woman will be at the Shelter? And then you need to give me a key to your front door. I believe you have two new tenants. Three, if you count our new dog.’