Spying On The Boss. Janet Lee Nye

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Spying On The Boss - Janet Lee Nye


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“doctors can cure anything these days” and begun a highly successful effort to pretend the entire thing wasn’t happening.

      “It’s not good, Sades. It’s too advanced for surgery. He hates the chemo and radiation therapy.”

      “But he’s going to keep doing it, right? I mean, isn’t that normal? The chemo and stuff is bad, but it helps eventually, right?”

      Lena shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s eighty-three, Sades.”

      Tears clogged her throat. Selfish tears, she realized. She wanted him to keep fighting because she didn’t want to lose him. “I know.”

      “He’s questioning whether it’s all worth it.”

      “Of course it’s worth it! What’s the alternative? To just die?”

      Lena’s dark eyes met hers and Sadie felt everything in her grow cold. The laughter and conversation around them dimmed to a distant buzz. She felt her head begin to move from side to side. No.

      “It’s his choice to make, Sadie. Only he can say what he wants his quality of life to be.”

      “I know.”

      The words were weak and wavering. She did know. But she felt like a child in her fear. Lito was going to leave her. Just like everyone else. She shook her head. You are being selfish and childish. Stop it. Her brain knew this. Her heart would accept it eventually.

      SADIE TRIED TO keep on the shady side of the path, but Jack had other ideas. He pulled on the harness with such strength she had no doubt that if she fell, he’d drag her along behind him. He’d been a rampaging whirl of doggie ecstasy ever since she’d put his halter on. Dog park day. Oh boy oh boy oh boy. The little park wasn’t really a dog park, but no one had complained about her tossing tennis balls to Jack along a grassy stretch off the bike path, so she kept going there.

      She’d slathered herself with eighty SPF and wore lightweight cotton pants to cover her legs, but a long-sleeve shirt was impossible in Charleston’s May weather. Today the humidity was relatively low, so the temperature in the mideighties was pleasant. Her fair skin burnt to a crisp with ease and she’d long ago given up trying to get any sort of tan.

      “Hold up, Jack. You’re going to pull my arm out of its socket.”

      Of course he didn’t listen. If Molly were here, he would trot obediently at her side. All he knew was they were approaching the stretch of grass where he could run until he collapsed or Sadie’s throwing arm gave out, whichever came first. It was their Saturday ritual. A late-morning run in the park, then a bath. She’d discovered bathing an exhausted dog was much easier.

      They reached the edge of the grass and Jack sat panting over his shoulder at her, his silly tongue lolling out. He let out a happy bark and tried to wag his tail through the grass. She took his head between her hands and squatted to look him in the eye. “You’re such a goofball, Jack. Do you know this? Do you know you’re a goofball?”

      He barked again and quivered in anticipation. She led him to the shade of a large oak tree and undid the leash. As she shook a tennis ball out of the tube, he began to run in circles at her feet, making her laugh. Adopting him had been the best idea she’d ever had.

      “Okay, you ready?”

      She threw the ball as hard as she could, but honestly, not very far. Jack didn’t care. He took off like a bullet, outpacing her throw and catching it neatly. He ran back to her and pretended to tussle over the ball. She threw the next one almost straight up. This allowed Jack to jump a fairly impressive distance into the air. As he did, she heard a little girl call out.

      “Did you see that doggie jump?”

      Sadie smiled at the little girl who had stopped her bike and was straddling it, pointing at Jack while looking back over her shoulder. Her hair was a shining wave of pure black falling halfway down her back. A man approached the girl. Her heart tripped over itself. Oh, great. It was Wyatt Anderson. He watched Jack run back and his gaze met hers the same instant Jack dropped the ball at her feet.

      Oh, Jesus. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her. Maybe he’d keep on going. Please, because dear God. Because he was wearing shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt and he’d been running and was all muscle and sweat and devilish goodness. He raised his hand in a wave and smiled and even from this distance, she could see those dimples. Jack yipped impatiently at the delay. She waved back. Perfect. Here he comes. Without business matters to hide behind, she was going to make a fool of herself. Because those hazel eyes made every brain cell she had melt into a useless pile of goop. And she wanted to press her lips to one—or both—of those dimples.

      “Hey,” he said as they approached. The little girl left the bike on the side of the path and trailed behind him shyly. Must be the niece he’d mentioned.

      “Oh, hi.” Going for casual, coming across as stupid. Brilliant. Jack was having his own meltdown and gave her an excuse to look away for a moment so she could throw the tennis ball. The little girl stopped to watch him run.

      “Wow,” Wyatt said. “He’s fast.”

      He turned his attention back to Sadie. She smiled up at him. He seemed taller. Wider. Her gaze slid along the curves and dips of the muscles of his arm. The man was cut. She eyed the front of his shirt. Wonder what’s under there.

      Come on! Stop staring.

      She looked back at him, and the faint smile on his lips made her cheeks burn. Jack ran back, dropping the ball and letting out a yip. She threw it again.

      “It’s his favorite thing to do. He’d chase it until he collapsed if my arm could hold out long enough.”

      The girl inched closer and he reached around to put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her forward. She pressed close to Wyatt and peeked up at Sadie with solemn dark brown eyes. She didn’t smile. A ping of sorrow ran through Sadie. She recognized that expression. It was the look of a child who has learned that the world isn’t always a safe place. Who was always waiting to see what was going to happen next. Wyatt had said he recently got custody, so something had happened to her. To her world. She squatted to be eye to eye with the girl.

      “Hi. I’m Sadie. What’s your name?”

      “Julietta,” the girl whispered.

      “That’s very pretty.”

      Jack came back and did something remarkable. Instead of another doggie meltdown because the ball throwing stopped, he sat quietly. Sadie put an arm around him. “This is Jack. Jack, this is Julietta. Can you shake?”

      For the first time, Jack did what Sadie asked at once. His paw went up and Julietta turned her serious little face up to Wyatt. He squatted also.

      “If you want to.”

      Julietta took the offered paw and gently shook it. “Hello, Jack. It is very nice to meet you.”

      Sadie smothered a smile. Her eyes met Wyatt’s and saw the same amusement there. She stood. Her knees would only take so much abuse. “Do you want to throw the ball for him, Julietta?”

      The girl looked at Sadie in wonder. Her mouth fell open and she drew in a breath of air. “Can I?”

      Her little voice, so carefully hopeful, sparked a wave of tenderness. “Of course you can, honey.”

      Sadie got a dry ball and showed her how to throw it. Jack joyfully scooped up ground balls and ran them back to her in a black-and-white blur. Sadie sat under the oak tree with Wyatt and watched.

      His fingers closed on her forearm in a brief, gentle squeeze. “Thank you.”

      “For what? Letting her play? Saves my arm some wear and tear.”

      He pointed at Julietta. The game of toss had morphed into a game of toss and tag. “This is the first


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