“What a day.”
Kylie sank into a chair in the clinic lounge and propped her feet up on the coffee table. She closed her weary eyes, only to have them fly open again when the robust fragrance of coffee filled her senses.
A coffee cup, its steam wafting up into her face, was being held in front of her. She accepted it on a grateful sigh. “Alan, you’re the best.”
“Of course I am.”
Her partner settled into the chair opposite her, propping his feet up on the table as well. “Whew! Appointments all day long, plus walk-ins, plus your emergency case. If we never have another day like this one, it’ll be too soon.”
She lifted her cup to him. “Amen, Brother.”
He glanced at Zsuzsi lying on her cushion, snoring away. “Looks like your pal is equally pooped.”
Kylie sipped the nicely strong brew. “She was great today. Especially with those two kids.”
The hardest part about what she did was helping pet owners accept that their animal friends couldn’t be healed, that it was time to let them go. Today had been especially tough. The emergency had been a family bringing in a terrier who had suddenly started vomiting blood. Kylie’s fears were confirmed by the tests. Cancer. The family had to say good-bye to a terrier they’d had for sixteen years. As hard as it had been for the adults—and it had been hard—it was heartbreaking for the kids, a ten-year-old girl and her fourteen-year-old brother. When it was over, both children were in tears, even the boy.
That’s where Zsuzsi came in.
Kylie had discovered the komondor’s special skill shortly after finding her. Kylie discovered the dog, one hot summer afternoon, at a rest stop on Interstate 5. She’d just stepped from her car when she spotted the collarless animal walking toward her. It was evident from the dog’s emaciated condition and the burrs in its fur that the komondor had been abandoned. Without even thinking, Kylie dropped to her knees, opened her arms, and called to the dog.
Zsuzsi didn’t hesitate. She ran into Kylie’s embrace.
A thorough search revealed no form of ID. Kylie took the dog to her clinic, cleaned her up, and cared for her. She put out notices, but when it became clear no one was going to claim the dog, Kylie brought Zsuzsi home.
Good thing, because in those few weeks at the clinic the two of them had adopted each other.
Maybe it was because Kylie still had been recovering from the loss just a month previous of her Siberian, Sasha. Or maybe it was one of those magical moments when two of God’s creations were supposed to be together. Whatever the case, Kylie knew the moment she saw Zsuzsi that the komondor was her dog.
Over the following months, that feeling was confirmed over and over. But never so much as the day Zsuzsi came into an exam room just as Kylie helped an older, sobbing woman, whose cat had just died, to a chair. As though knowing exactly what the woman needed, Zsuzsi came to the woman, touching her trembling, veined hands with a cool nose. The woman started, and Kylie tensed, ready to hurry the komondor from the room. But then the woman threw her arms around the dog’s neck, sobbing into the komondor’s unusual soft and corded coat. Zsuzsi had leaned forward, resting her massive head against the woman, and sat there. Silent comfort for a grieving woman.
From that day, it was as though the dog knew when she was needed. No sooner would a pet breathe its last than Zsuzsi was there, beside the distraught owner, bringing much-needed comfort and, inexplicably enough, peace.
It was the peace those two kids needed today. Especially the teenager. He’d stood there, fists clenched, features frozen.
“It’s what’s best for Rufus, Jarod.”
The boy didn’t even look at his mother. “He could get better.”
The mother cast a pleading glance at Kylie who repeated what she’d already told them, making it firm, but gentle. “I’m sorry, but he can’t. His body is just worn out.” She waited until the boy looked at her. “He’s tired, Jarod. He fought the cancer a long time, but he doesn’t have anything left.”
He started to respond, but the door to the room opened—and Zsuzsi entered. She moved to stand between the two children, leaning a solid shoulder against Jarod’s leg. Kylie watched him try to resist the dog’s touch, then it was as though the tension in him just flowed out. He went down to his knees and threw his arms around the komondor’s solid neck, burying his face in Zsuzsi’s fur.
“OK.”
That one muffled word spoke volumes. She heard it all, the boy’s pain mixed with the desire to do what was right for his friend. Kylie nodded—and within seconds it was over.
She left Zsuzsi with the grieving family and stepped from the room. When they finally came out, Jarod’s hand rested on Zsuzsi’s broad head. He met Kylie’s gaze.
“I’m sorry I got mad.”
Kylie touched his arm. “It’s OK. I understand.”
With one last pat to Zsuzsi’s head, the boy turned away. But as he started to follow his family out the door, he looked back. “Thank you.” His words thickened. “For taking care of Rufus.”
“You’re welcome.”
Yes, that was tough. But Zsuzsi made it easier. On all of them.
“So, you heading home soon?” Alan’s query brought her back to the present.
Kylie took another sip of her coffee. “Absolutely. I think Zsuzsi and I are both ready for a night without drama or excitement.”
Alan grinned. “Like that ever happens with you two.”
She pushed to her feet. “Tonight it will.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’m determined.”
“Well, then, knowing you two”—Alan’s laughing eyes peered at her over his coffee cup—“I guess it’s settled.”
Kylie made a face at her teasing friend. Let him laugh all he wanted. She meant what she said.
Tonight was going to be blissfully boring.
Mackenzie stepped back to admire his handiwork. His dining table had been transformed by a white linen tablecloth, elegant china plates and bowls flanked by filigreed silver utensils, and sparkling crystal glasses reflecting the glow of tall tapers in the middle of a fresh-flower centerpiece. Well, it was the florist who had done it up just right, but he’d put the order in and specified exactly what he wanted. Romantic music played in the background. A delicious meal waited to be served. One he’d mostly crafted himself.
“Ha. Let’s see you call this ho-hum, Lindsay.”
No denying it. Everything was perfect.
Tonight, he would cross item number five off his list. “So there you have it.” At the sound of the doorbell he strolled over to pull the door open. “Good evening, Madame. Your dinner awaits.” He added a sweeping bow in his best Cary Grant impression.
Amanda Carr stood on the threshold, the image of refined beauty. Her facial features were delicately carved, her mouth full, her bearing poised. Mackenzie first met her at an art gallery opening. They’d collided while studying a sculpture. Startled from his contemplation, he’d turned and found himself staring into a pair of beautiful, blue eyes. The rest of the woman was equally impressive—as was her intelligence, which he discovered while they shared their interpretations of what the sculpture was trying to express. Before he’d realized he was going to do so, Mackenzie asked Amanda out to dinner. Much to his surprise, she accepted.
As their relationship progressed it became clear that they were a good match. Capable, reasonable, well-read, intelligent, prone to logic over emotion . . . every facet seemed to mesh. As well as the fact she was the only daughter of business tycoon Alexander Carr. Amanda might be a bit more driven, a bit more determined than Mackenzie, but she had to be. After all, it wasn’t easy to become a female CEO in a prestigious Seattle advertising firm. Those same beautiful blue eyes that had so captured his attention could turn positively glacial, which characteristic had helped her face down more than one stunned male in the board room. Amanda knew what she wanted and went after it with steely determination. She never allowed herself to be distracted by sentimentality or misplaced altruism.
As if we came from the same mold.
Oddly, he felt a slight uncertainty at that thought.
“Mackenzie, dear,” she remarked now as she stepped inside and tilted her head back, inviting him to kiss one smooth cheek. He did as expected, noting the fragrance from an expensive perfume he had bought for her, then reached for her dripping raincoat and umbrella. In spite of the weather, not a strand of her silky black hair was out of place.
Quite a contrast to Kylie Hawk. She’d probably be dripping wet and loving every minute of it. The thought—and the sudden picture in his mind of his neighbor’s golden, unruly hair—startled him.
Amanda caught sight of the carefully laid table, tipped her head to listen to the music, then turned to him. “Darling, really. Such extravagance.”
The hint of censure in her voice made him frown.
“I’ll bet she hasn’t got a spontaneous bone in that sleek, sophisticated body of hers.” He pushed Lindsay’s words away as he pulled out Amanda’s chair for her. “It’s a special occasion.”
“So you said when you invited me.” She smoothed her pants, then laid a cloth napkin on her lap and smoothed that as well.
“I can’t even imagine her feeling passion. . . .”
He shook his head to dislodge the unwelcome memory, with little effect. Drawing a steadying breath, he settled into his own chair.
Amanda’s appraising gaze rested on him. “Really, dear, isn’t it time you told me what’s going on? You know how much I dislike being kept in the dark.”
“Austere . . . ho-hum . . .”
“I . . . wanted to ask . . .” He tried to swallow, but his suddenly dry and constricted throat didn’t want to cooperate.
“Yes?”
“Ice Queen . . . rest of your life . . . God has better plans. . . .”
“Shut up!”
Amanda stiffened. “I beg your pardon.”
Oh, good grief. “No, I’m sorry, Amanda. . . .”
She sat there, features frozen, and he fought the urge to pound his forehead on the table. This wasn’t going at all as he’d planned.
The doorbell sounded, and Mackenzie jumped to his feet. “Excuse me—back in a minute.” He’d take any reprieve right now and be glad of it. He crossed the room and jerked the door open.
No one was there. Was this some kind of prank? He looked to the sides, then down—
What on earth?
There was a wolf on his stoop! A soggy, muddy, whining wolf.
Mackenzie stared at the beast. No, not a wolf. A dog. With heavy reddish-brown and white fur, large pointed ears atop a squarish head, and staring eyes—one brown, one ice-blue. A dog with mismatched eyes? Some kind of mutant?
Mackenzie inspected the animal. A sled dog, maybe? Mackenzie was far from an expert. He glanced around again. No one in sight. He stepped out to look farther down the street through the evening shadows. Nothing. He looked back at the dog, whose pathetic whines had lessened, but only a bit.
“Beat it. Go away. Lassie, go home.” He pointed a finger as emphatic as his voice.
Those intense eyes fixed on him. Then, as though in supplication, the animal lifted one soggy paw and placed it on Mackenzie’s leg.
He brushed the paw away and stepped back inside, shutting the door.
“Who was it, darling?” Amanda seemed to have gotten over his slip of the tongue
“No one.” He sat down in his chair. “What do you say we eat before the food gets cold?” The smile he offered her felt pasted on. “Then we’ll talk.”
“If you say so.”
Mackenzie nodded and picked up his fork. All he needed was some food in his system to clear out his fogged brain. And a little time to figure out exactly what he wanted to say.
Two bites later, a horrific and sorrowful sound reverberated through the house. The dog was howling. Right outside his front door.
“What in the world?” Amanda’s delicate brows lifted. Mackenzie gritted his teeth and held up a hand.
“Just . . . a minute.” He went to the door again, pulled it open, and stepped out, closing the door behind him.
“GO AWAY!”
That bellowed, he composed his features, turned, and opened the door—only to run right into Amanda.
She stepped around him and glanced outside. The dog was sitting there, a morose look on its furry face. “What on earth is that?”
“It’s a dog.”
She swiveled her gaze to him. “I can see it’s a dog, Mackenzie. Whose is it?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
She crossed her arms. “You don’t need to get emotional about it.”
“I am not getting emotional.”
Clearly startled by his tone, Amanda stepped back.
He looked down, closing his eyes. “Amanda—”
“Perhaps you should call the police, Mackenzie. That seems the most logical solution.”
She was right. He moved to the phone and returned a few moments later. “The police transferred my call to Animal Control.”
“Good. When will they be here?”
Mackenzie shrugged. “They told me to watch the dog, and they’ll get here as soon as they can.”
“Well, if that’s the best you can do . . .”
“It’s the best they can do, Amanda.”
She lifted a shoulder and brushed her hand over her hair. “Then shall we finish our dinner and have our little talk?”
Half an hour later, the dog was still howling, and Mackenzie was wishing Kylie was home. He’d figured she’d show up when the dog started its caterwauling and had fully intended to hand the creature over to her, but no luck. Why couldn’t his neighbor be around when he actually wanted her to be?
“Mackenzie, isn’t there something you can do?” Amanda lifted her fingers to probe her temples. “That creature’s unholy racket has given me the most horrendous headache.”
What, exactly, did she expect him to do? Tossing his napkin on the table, he went to the door again and jerked it open.
The dog had stopped howling and was now lying in the darkness, chin resting on his paws. His heavy fur looked soaking wet. He looked up at Mackenzie. At the woeful expression in the animal’s eyes, something inside of Mackenzie gave.
No one should be treated like this. Not even a dog.
He knelt down and extended a hand. The dog lifted his head and licked Mackenzie’s hand. Maybe in forgiveness?
An unfamiliar tightness formed in Mackenzie’s chest, and he felt beneath the fur to the dog’s neck. A collar? He examined it, but found no tags. Instead, what he discovered was a piece of clothesline tied from the collar to the railing of his porch. The dog was tied to the railing!
“Who did this to you, fella?” The dog stared at him in sorrowful silence. Making a sudden decision, Mackenzie untied the clothesline and stepped inside. The dog followed him without hesitation.
“Mackenzie! What in the world? You can’t bring that awful creature in here!”
Now who was getting emotional? “He’s wet, Amanda, and cold. I can at least get him dried off.”
“With what? I hope you don’t plan to use any good towels on that—that thing!”
He tied the clothesline to the door knob and the dog sat down on the rug. “I’ve got some old towels I use to wash the car.” He went to the garage, grabbed them from a box, then returned. The dog was still sitting there, looking every inch the perfect gentleman. Mackenzie shook out the towels, directing a positive look at Amanda. “See? This won’t be so bad.” He stepped forward, the towel spread open—
The dog promptly stood and shook himself. Mud and water flew everywhere.
Mackenzie dove for the dog, trying to throw the towels over him and protect his mostly white furniture and walls. The dog scrambled back, tugging on the line with such force that it came untied. Realizing it was free, the animal tore away, his claws scrabbling over the polished wood floor.
“Come back here!”
Mackenzie’s bellow only served to alarm the dog more. With a yelp, the beast vaulted the coffee table, his muddy paws touching down just long enough to smear everything in his path.
Thus began a wild chase.
Mackenzie followed the rampaging animal as it jumped the couch, scrambled across the tiled kitchen floor, circled and knocked down a screeching Amanda, raced down the hallway, and leaped into the middle of Mackenzie’s king-sized waterbed.
Momentarily startled by the uncertain footing, the dog paused, which gave Mackenzie the opening he’d been watching for. Quickly he grasped the edges of the silk comforter and lifted, enveloping the dog as neatly as if the spread had been a net. Muttering threats the entire way, he dragged the struggling, yelping dog to the bathroom, pushed him in—comforter and all—and slammed the door.
Leaning against the door, he wiped a hand across his face—then his body sagged as he took in the carnage. Streaks of mud covered everything, from smudges on the rugs and floor to hair-encrusted splatters all over the walls and furniture. Slowly he walked into the living room. There were muddy paw prints everywhere.
“Well, I certainly hope you’re satisfied.”
He turned—and stopped cold. Amanda was covered with mud, and her hair was a snarled, mud-splattered mess. At the sight of the usually picture-perfect woman in such disarray, something quirked Mackenzie’s mouth.
“What are you smiling about?” She stormed toward him, her arms flailing about. “Your house is destroyed—but it looks far better than you do!”
He glanced down. He was as wet and muddy as the dog. He shook his head slightly, struggling against the surprising urge to laugh himself silly.
“Mackenzie St. Clair, you wipe that absurd look from your face this minute!”
His head came up and his eyes narrowed. No one took that tone with him. Before he could respond, the doorbell rang.
“Saved by the bell.” He crossed the room and opened the door.
Kylie’s eyes went wide. She scanned the living room, and he followed her gaze to the cushions strewn about the room, the turned-over furniture, and, finally, Amanda’s glowering visage.
“Oh, my goodness.” Kylie’s gaze came back to him. “Did I . . . interrupt something?”
Suddenly bloodcurdling screams split the air, and the two spun to see Amanda on the floor, the dog in her lap, paws on her shoulders, licking her face with gusto. She was swatting at him—with no effect—and screeching like a banshee.
“Oh!” Kylie put a warm hand on his arm. “You got a husky! How delightful!”
Mackenzie, who was trying to figure out how the beast had escaped the bathroom, turned to Kylie, his mouth falling open. An enraptured smile lit her face, and the woman glided across the room. She took hold of the dog’s collar, gave a tug that drew him from Amanda, and led him away, talking to him in a low, sweet voice.
Amanda struggled to her feet, muttering some things Mac was glad he couldn’t hear. Without a glance his way, she strode over to grab her coat from the rack. With one furious motion, she pulled it on, and attempted to smooth her hair—only succeeding in rearranging the mud—then headed for the door. With her hand on the knob, she turned to pin Mackenzie with her fury. “Thank you, my dear Mackenzie, for the most horrid experience I’ve had in my entire life!”
The door slammed behind her.
Mackenzie pursed his lips and blew out a long breath. OK, Lindsay, so much for item number five.
“Don’t worry.”
He turned to find Kylie sitting on the couch, the now-docile dog at her side. She gave the dog’s ears a rub. “Your girlfriend will get used to him.”
He moved toward them, took hold of the dog’s collar, and tugged him off the couch. “This animal isn’t staying long enough for anyone to get used to it.”
She straightened. “Surely you wouldn’t get rid of him before he’s even had a chance to fit in? That wouldn’t be fair at all.”
“Wouldn’t be—” He stopped himself before he said something else he’d regret. “It’s not a case of fairness. This animal showed up on my doorstep a few hours ago. Someone tied him out there, though who or why, I haven’t got a clue.”
“Maybe someone thought you needed him.”
“You make it sound like someone left a gift on my doorstep!”
She looked from the dog to him, as though something just occurred to her, and another smile crept across her features. “You can never tell.”
“Oh, yes I can. This animal is not mine. Apparently he’s not anyone’s. I’ve already called Animal Control and as soon as they show up, he’s gone.”
Kylie looked at her watch. “You do realize it’s ten o’clock?”
“So?”
“Well, Animal Control closes at nine. So I’d say this guy isn’t going anywhere tonight.”
Now he was getting a headache. “I don’t suppose you could take him?”
“I’d love to—”
Thank heaven!
“—but I don’t think I can.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t think?”
She cupped the dog’s fuzzy face, looked into those intent eyes, then gave a slow shake of her head. “Mac, I’m happy to help out—”
“Mackenzie.”
She looked up at him, her brows creasing. “Excuse me?”
“Mackenzie, not Mac. I don’t do nicknames.”
She bit her lip, though he had a feeling it was more to keep from laughing than from any sense of propriety. “Ah. OK, Mackenzie. I’m happy to help you out with this fine boy, but I think taking him off your hands would be a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Wasn’t she a vet? Dedicated to caring for animals? “No. Leaving him with me, that’s the mistake—”
She was already shaking her head.
“What am I supposed to do with a dog?”
She stood, handing him the clothesline, which she’d secured again to the dog’s collar. “Tell you what. I’ll help you clean up here, and I’ll help you get the dog settled. I’ve got an extra crate that you can use, a collar, a leash, and bowls.” She ticked the items off on her fingers. “All you’ll need to do is buy him some food. And take him for a walk from time to time. Oh—” she plucked some mud from the dog’s fur—“and give him a bath.”
Now that was going too far. “I’m not a dog groomer.”
“No”—she glanced around his house, then back to him—“but you like your place clean, yes?”
“Of course.”
“Your best bet on that front is to get the dog clean.”
His fingers fisted on the clothesline. “This is ridiculous. It’s entirely too much work for some stray animal—”
A warm hand on his arm halted the words. “Mackenzie.”
Something about the tone of her voice . . . and he stilled. Met those sincere eyes.
“I know this isn’t how you’d planned to spend your evening—”
A master of understatement, this one.
“—but for whatever reason, God put this animal in your care.”
“God? You think God tied this dog to my railing?”
“Of course not. But I do think this is a unique opportunity for you to help someone out.”
He narrowed his eyes at that. “Help who out?”
“Don’t know.” She walked into his kitchen, and he followed, beast in tow, watching as she opened the pantry door, then closed it and scanned the room.
“What are you looking for?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “A broom and dustpan.”
He fastened the clothesline to his belt—no way this dog was getting loose again—and went over to the hall closet. At least that’s where he thought his housekeeper kept them. Yes. He held them out to her.
Tools in hand, she went back to the living room and started sweeping clumps of drying mud into the dustpan.
He stood watching her, then realized the dog was sitting right beside him, leaning against his leg. He lowered a hand to scratch the dog’s soft ears. “Hey”—he glanced around—“where’s your dog? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it.”
“Her.”
He frowned. “Her?”
“Zsuzsi’s a female. She’s a her, not an it.” She focused on her sweeping as she talked. “And she’s at home. She had a long day and was ready for a snooze, so I dropped her off before I came over.” She glanced at him and paused, taking in the way he and the dog stood there together. A small smile played at her lips. “Looks as though he’s taken to you.”
He angled a look at her. “Yuh-huh. So, again, who am I supposed to be helping here? And why?”
She carried the dustpan over to the trash can, then searched under the sink and came up with a couple of dish towels and spray cleaner. She held one of the towels and a spray bottle out to him. “You take the coffee table, I’ll tackle the couch.”
As he started in on the streaks with the glass cleaner, she wiped off the mud on the white leather couch. “As for who, well, the dog for one. And, if he has any, his owners.”
Mackenzie spritzed the table again. How much mud could one dog transfer to furniture? “All strangers to me.”
“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t help them out, does it?”
She had him there.
She went on. “You’re simply making sure this animal is cared for and safe. Tomorrow we can take him to my office, and I’ll check to see if he’s been chipped. If so, we can contact the owners and get him home.”
Mackenzie admired the now clean coffee table, then turned to the dog still tied to his belt. “Stay off it, beast.”
“Nice work.”
He looked over and nodded at the couch, which was once again spotless. “You, too. Think you missed your calling.”
She grinned. “I’ve had lots of practice cleaning up messes like this. I had Siberians for a lot of years.”
She held her hand out for his dirty dish towel, and he gave it to her. Odd how it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be with her like this. Talking, working together—
“Time for a bath.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
At the look on his face, her cheeks turned pink. “For the dog.” She took hold of the clothesline and tugged it. He took a step closer to her.
Vanilla. She definitely smelled like vanilla.
Another tug. He peered down at her. “I don’t think I can get much closer.”
More pink in those cheeks. He liked that color on her.
“Untie him, you nitwit.”
His lips twitched. He’d rather stay right there, but he did as commanded. “You want my help?”
“Better you vacuum while I’ve got him closed up in the bathroom. Just come on in after you’re done so you can help dry him off.”
He snapped a salute, and she swatted at him with one of the towels. He watched her walk down the hall, the husky trotting along beside her as though bewitched.
He knew exactly how the dog felt.
Kylie brushed her damp hair back and picked up the large, fluffy towel Mac had given her. No, not Mac. Mackenzie.
I don’t do nicknames.
She shook her head. The man really needed to chill.
She eyed the dog now sitting in front of her. The bath had been, as they almost always were with huskies, a wrestling match. For the most part, Siberians hated water. Were afraid of getting wet. Some deep instinct warned them that letting that dense undercoat get soaked meant they’d freeze to death. In their natural environment, that was true. But for owners who didn’t live in Alaska or Siberia, it made bath time a definite challenge.
Still, Kylie had had enough experience with her own huskies to win out, and the dog was well and duly clean. Now all she had to do was get him rubbed down.
Far easier said than done.
She’d been trying to corner him for the past five minutes, towel at the ready. The dog, of course, thought it was a grand game and did everything he could to dodge her in the confined space. She finally got him cornered—back in the now-empty bathtub. She opened the towel. All she had to do was envelop the husky and rub.
“Hey, comin’ in.”
Before Kylie could holler out a warning, Mac opened the bathroom door.
The dog leaped out of the tub and bolted toward the door, so Kylie had no choice. She threw herself at it.
And at Mac.
He yelped, caught her, towel and all, and slammed back into the door. Kylie sighed her relief when she heard the door click shut.
“That was close.” The words were muffled against his chest.
“Everything OK?” He wasn’t letting go.
She nodded, her nose brushing against his shirt. She should step away, she knew. But there was something about being held like this that was . . . well, so nice.
A doggie whine snapped her back to reality, and she pulled away so fast she almost stumbled. Strong hands gripped her arms, steadying her. She looked up, caught the glint of humor—and something else, something indefinable—in Mac’s eyes.
Kylie knelt beside the dog and surrounded him with the towel. “So, everything cleaned up out there?”
“Until you let loose the hound.” He knelt too and helped with the last of the drying.
Kylie gave the husky’s fur one final rub, then looked around for the dog’s collar. It suddenly dangled in front of her. She glanced at Mac again—it was as though he’d read her mind.
She took the collar, fastened it around the dog’s neck, then attached a leash she’d fetched from her car. Far better than the clothesline. Leash in hand, she stood and glanced at Mac. “Well, you know what they say—”
He pulled the bathroom door open. “Once more unto the breach.”
Kylie walked out of the room, not sure what surprised her more: the uncharacteristic grin on Mac’s face—
Or the fact that he’d said exactly the words she had in mind.
Mac leaned back against the soft leather of the couch. Kylie sat at the opposite end, sipping fresh-brewed decaf—how did he know?—from a mug that seemed almost too big for her hands, watching the dog lying on the floor at Mac’s feet, head on its paws, snoring softly.
He, on the other hand, watched Kylie.
“So”—she looked up at him—“have you considered my proposition?”
He cupped the coffee mug in his hands. “OK, you want to use the pictures you’ve taken of the dog with your cell phone to post about him online. And you’ll pass on the info to other vets and Animal Control, so they can spread the word about him.”
She gave a slow nod. “And you?”
“You want me to keep him until we hear from his owners.”
Why, exactly, he would agree to such a thing was beyond him. He’d have to be nuts to even consider it.
Kylie rubbed the sleeping dog’s back with her bare toe. “Three weeks. If the owners don’t show up in three weeks, he’s yours.”
“No, thanks to both. Too long, and I am not looking for a dog.” He noticed the slight crease in her forehead. “What?”
Her gaze met his, and the look in her eyes stirred him deep inside. “If Zsuzsi were lost, I’d pray that the people who found her would give me every opportunity to claim her.”
“You’re asking me to upend my life for three whole weeks, and for what? A dog? Why would I do that?” He kept his tone firm. So much so that he woke the dog. The beast stood, circled a few times, then plopped down—with his head resting on Mackenzie’s foot. The dog breathed in, then uttered a low, long sigh.
Kylie directed twinkling eyes at Mackenzie. “He seems to have taken to you.”
“No comment.” Mackenzie rubbed the dog’s ears. At least there was one creature that didn’t consider him an unapproachable, heartless brute. The soft texture of the dog’s fur was like velvet, and the way he tilted his square head and half closed his eyes made Mackenzie smile.
He looked at Kylie again. “You do realize I don’t know anything about dogs.”
“I’ll help out.”
“You already have. The crate and other supplies you brought over will be a great help, once you get them set up.” At least he could keep the dog contained.
“I have an idea.”
Mackenzie looked at her, waiting.
“Instead of asking me why you should consider this idea, why don’t you ask God?”
She had the oddest notions.
“You really think the God of the universe cares about a stray dog and what I do with it?”
He’d expected some flippant answer, but she paused, considering the question. “Let me ask you this. If you had a child, would you care how he treated a stray dog?”
“I suppose so. I’d want him to treat it right, maybe learn something about treating other creatures with respect.”
Kylie’s face glowed. “Exactly. As a father, you care that your children live their lives in the best way possible, right?”
“Right . . .” Where was she going with this?
“Well, God is interested in everything we do, too. He’s our Father, we’re his children. He wants us to live our lives in the best way. Even in a situation like this.”
“Seems to me the Almighty has better things to do with his time than worry about how I treat some stray dog.” Mackenzie tried not to sound sarcastic, but he could tell he hadn’t been very successful.
She studied him a moment. “ ‘For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home.’ ”
“Oh, come on now, he was talking about people—”
“ ‘Then these righteous ones will reply, “Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality?—” ’ ”
He crossed his arms over his chest, but his obvious resistance didn’t stop her recitation.
“ ‘And the King will say, “I tell you the truth, when you did it” ’ ”—she rested her hand on the dog’s furry back—“ ‘ “to one of the least of these, you were doing it to me.” ’ ”
Mackenzie met her now laughing gaze. “You know you’re taking that verse out of context.”
She just smiled and leaned back against the couch arm.
Mackenzie looked from her to the dog. She was wrong. The almighty God of the universe wasn’t involved in this fiasco.
And why not?
He pushed back against the voice in his head. It’s just a lost dog—
Didn’t he tell Peter, “Feed my lambs”? And didn’t he say that he cares for the birds of the air? Isn’t this animal as much God’s creature as the birds and lambs?
Mackenzie looked down at the sleeping dog. Maybe it was the late hour, or the events of the day, but he couldn’t deny the strong sense that there was more going on here than just a stray dog landing on his doorstep. That there was some . . . purpose at work.
Do you want me to do this, Lord?
He hadn’t intended to pray about it. The question just jumped free. No sooner had it slipped from his mind, flying toward heaven, than his furry invader stirred, yawned, and sat up. He leaned against Mackenzie’s leg, and when Mackenzie looked down at him, the animal’s two-colored gaze caught him for a moment. Then the dog put his paws on Mackenzie’s thigh and reached up to deliver a quick lick to his face.
He stared at the animal. Was that supposed to be some kind of sign?
The dog licked him again.
Mackenzie closed his eyes, shaking his head. I must be nuts. . . .
“All right, I’ll do it.” He nailed Kylie with a stern look, daring her to gloat. “But just for three weeks.”
As firm as he’d made his tone, now that the decision was made he had to admit that he kind of liked the idea. Somehow with Kylie’s exclamation of delight floating around him and her warm, approving gaze resting on both him and dog, keeping it seemed the best decision he’d made in a very long time.