Chapter Three

      Laughter.

      It was the first thing Brendan heard when he opened the front door the next morning.

      That’s all he needed. Someone in the house holding a paintbrush in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

      Brendan bypassed the kitchen, ignoring the lure of freshly brewed coffee as he strode down the hall to the living room. If he and Lily Michaels were going to be sharing space for the next two weeks, it wouldn’t hurt to establish a few ground rules. Let her know what he expected…

      He pulled up short in the doorway.

      Lily was kneeling in front of the fireplace. The paint-splattered overalls she wore somehow managed to enhance her slender curves rather than detract from them. Two bright golden tassels peeked out from underneath the green bandanna tied around her head.

      No paintbrush. No cell phone. Instead, she was holding on to the corner of another bandanna…the other end was attached to an overweight basset hound.

      It couldn’t be.

      “Missy?”

      Brendan realized he’d said the word out loud when Lily’s head jerked up.

      “Is that your dog’s name?” Smiling at him, she surrendered the colorful strip of fabric.

      “She’s not my dog.”

      Missy clattered over to him and deposited the damp cloth at his feet.

      “Really?” Lily rose to her feet and parked her hands on her hips, a pointed look at Missy conveying her skepticism.

      “My mother volunteers at the shelter and she tries to find people willing to adopt the animals that end up there.” Although Brendan had no idea how the dog had covered the mile-long trek from town on those stubby little legs.

      “She’s a stray?”

      “Not anymore,” Brendan said quickly. “Mom found a home for her before she left. Missy must have gotten loose somehow and wandered away.”

      There was also the distinct possibility she’d been dropped off on his front porch in the middle of the night.

      “Maybe she thinks this is home.” Lily looked down at the basset hound, and her expression softened.

      The furry martyr collapsed at his feet with a heavy sigh.

      Brendan inwardly rolled his eyes. “I’ll give Mr. Wilson a call and let him know Missy’s here.”

      “She’s probably thirsty.” Lily moved past him and the scent of her shampoo, something light and citrusy, teased his senses. “I’ll get her some water.”

      “There’s a dish under the sink.” Brendan pivoted in the opposite direction and retreated to his office to find a phone book. He was expecting a call from a customer within the next few minutes and a shipment of materials for their next order was on its way, something Brendan needed to sign for when it arrived.

      He punched in Ed Wilson’s number, foot tapping the floor in time with every ring. Just before he was about to hang up, Brendan heard a click.

      “Wilson residence.”

      “Mr. Wilson? This is Brendan Kane. I’m calling because you must have—” give the man the benefit of the doubt now “—misplaced something. Missy showed up here a little while ago.”

      “So that’s where she ran off to.” Brendan heard a rusty chuckle. “All I can say is the good Lord must have put a homing device in those critters when He created them.”

      “Her home is with you,” Brendan reminded him.

      “Can’t keep her,” Ed said bluntly. “My son called last night and invited me to spend the summer in Chicago, but he lives in one of them fancy condos. No pets allowed.”

      “I understand.” Brendan squeezed the base of his skull, a futile attempt to ward off the tension headache snaking its way up the back of his neck, one vertebra at a time. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Wilson.”

      “Sorry I can’t help you out.”

      Not as sorry as Brendan.

      The second call he made was to the animal shelter. It rang ten…twelve times…before Yvonne Delfield answered with a breathless hello. The woman was a close friend of Sunni’s, one of the few who’d actually supported her decision to take in three rowdy boys who’d slipped between the cracks of the child welfare system.

      “Missy is with me,” he said without preamble.

      “Brendan?” And then, “Oh, that’s a relief! I was hoping you’d decided to keep her.”

      “What? No, I didn’t…. July is one of the busiest months of the year.” Brendan put Yvonne on speakerphone and fired up his computer to confirm the time of an afternoon appointment. “She managed to escape from Ed Wilson and ended up back here. I was just calling to make sure someone would be around when I bring her back to the shelter.”

      “Oh.” The word rolled out with Yvonne’s sigh. “One of the county deputies found a litter of puppies living in a shed and brought them in, so we’re a little short on space at the moment. Would you be willing to keep Missy until Sunni gets back and finds another home for her?”

      “No problem.”

      Brendan heard the words, but he hadn’t said them.

      He pivoted toward the doorway, and his gaze locked on Lily. Her wide smile didn’t hold the least bit of repentance for eavesdropping on a private conversation. Missy sat at her feet, and it looked as if she was smiling, too.

      If Brendan hadn’t known for a fact that, at that very moment, his mother was sunbathing on the promenade deck, he would have accused her of orchestrating the whole thing.

      * * *

      Lily finished rinsing out her paintbrush and turned off the faucet in the laundry room sink. A few yards away, Missy dozed in a patch of afternoon sunlight streaming through the blinds, paws pedaling the air as she chased a phantom squirrel in her dreams.

      She couldn’t help but smile as she remembered Brendan’s reaction to her impulsive announcement to provide a temporary home for the dog. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but a deliveryman had shown up at the front door with an invoice that needed Brendan’s signature. She’d arrived just in time to hear a woman asking him to