Beneath the Patchwork Moon (A Hope Springs Novel Book 2) by Kent Alison

Author:Kent, Alison [Kent, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2014-03-03T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Now what?” Angelo asked an hour later, as the dog, still damp from his bath but smelling a whole lot better, settled onto the same couch cushion as Luna, as close as he could get without being in her lap.

“Francisco.”

“What?”

“That’s his name. Every school needs a mascot.”

He nearly hurt himself rolling his eyes. “And the Caffey-Gatlin Academy needs a fleabag named Francisco?”

But Luna ignored him. “I’ll take him to see the vet tomorrow. See if he’s chipped. Get him tested for the obvious things. Put up flyers.”

Angelo didn’t even want to know how much time and money she was going to spend on the mutt. “And tonight?”

“He can stay here.”

“No, he can’t.”

“In the barn then.”

“No, he can’t.”

“Angelo!”

“Neither one of us has time to dog-sit. You can take him to the farm.”

“My parents are about to have a new baby in the house. I’m not going to bring a dog home until he’s been treated for fleas and tested for heartworms—”

“Your call where he goes, but I’m not watching your dog.”

“He’s not my—” She stopped herself. And then she laughed. “He’s not my dog yet. But he is my responsibility. I rescued him. I can’t foist him off on someone else. Mitch Pepper taught me that when he convinced my father to let me keep Maya.”

“Who’s Mitch again?”

“Kaylie’s father. Ten mentioned him this afternoon.”

“And Maya… She was your dog, right?”

She nodded, smiling as if pleased he remembered. “A Chinese crested–Jack Russell mix. I found her in the ditch in front of the farm. We had two border collies and two Great Pyrs already, so Daddy made sure I understood she was my responsibility. Just like Francisco.”

“Wait a minute. Are you calling me irresponsible?”

“Are you feeling irresponsible?”

“Have I ever told you that I don’t like dogs?”

“Who doesn’t like dogs?”

“I don’t like dogs.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

She shook her head. “That’s just crazy talk. Dogs are man’s best friend.”

“Not this man.”

“As grumpy as you are, I’m surprised you have any friends at all,” she said, leaving him to wonder what she’d think if she knew how few he had, how hard it had been to care about friendships when his family had cut him off. Hard enough to live with having failed as a brother and a son. No sense tempting fate and failing elsewhere.

Then he wondered whether his boss counted, his boss’s wife, their two sons who were in and out of the shop as they handled the business side of the business. And… that was about it. He rented a small house in the town where he lived, and he supposed he was friends, or at least friendly, with the waitress at the diner where he ate breakfast every day. With the short-order cook whose biscuits were the best he’d ever had, and that included those at Malina’s.

He worked long hours, never setting an alarm because he was an early riser, heading into the shop when it was still dark. And he stayed late because there was always work to keep him busy, and he had nowhere else to be.

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