CHAPTER ONE

      IT WAS BARELY SIX O’CLOCK on a cloudy Saturday morning in Chester, Ohio. The sun struggled to shine without much success as Buck Boswell finished brushing his teeth, then splashed his unshaven face with cold water. Saturday mornings were meant for sleeping in, preferably with a soft, warm female. But for the next couple of weekends, that was out.

      Butch, the little Chihuahua he’d been roped into babysitting for two weeks, was causing a ruckus. For a four-pound dog, he made a lot of noise.

      Butch had already been out to do his business—the reason Buck was up so early on a vacation day—so he should have been curled up on his blankets, back to dreaming blissful doggie dreams. For the two days Buck had minded Butch so far, that’d been his routine: up at dawn, out for his morning constitutional, back to bed.

      Unfortunately, Buck couldn’t do the same. Once Butch woke him, getting back to sleep proved impossible. He was starting his vacation by keeping the hours of his grandpa instead of those of a thriving bachelor.

      It sucked.

      Riley, one of his best friends, had asked Buck to sit the dog so he and his wife, Regina, could take a cruise. But Riley hadn’t mentioned that Butch rose with the roosters, only to nap again afterward.

      Owning his own lumberyard and working sixty-hour weeks as a result hadn’t allowed Buck much time to bond with pets. Free time was spent with his friends, his family and a selection of very nice females. Not animals.

      But since he was the only bachelor left in their close circle of friends, the duty fell on him. And despite his lack of familiarity with furry creatures, he and Butch got along well enough.

      So what had upset Butch enough to cause that mournful sound?

      Concerned, Buck dried his face and dropped his towel. Because he slept in the nude, he’d had to pull on underwear when Butch had first awoken him. In the dark, he’d chosen monkey-print boxers given to him as a joke by Ethan’s wife, Rosie. He hadn’t bothered to put anything more on yet, so he cautiously poked his head around the corner to see what had Butch riled.

      The dog sat at the French doors at the back of Buck’s apartment, staring out at the shadowy yard.

      “Hey, bud, what’s the deal?”

      Butch cast him a quick worried look, then went back to staring. Buck