CHAPTER 59

Maggie looked at the dog Jenner had brought in.

Even to a dog lover, it was a ridiculous, stumpy-looking thing. There might have been a splash of corgi, or one of the uglier terrier breeds, but not enough to nudge him into any category either familiar or desirable. With his stubby legs and a conical head that sprouted from a body the shape of a pot roast, he looked more like a root vegetable than a dog.

She smiled at him, ruffled his floppy ears, and gave him a treat. The treat disappeared in a snap, the truncated tail waggling like a coin-operated mechanical toy.

Maggie shook her head. The dog was washed and fed, dewormed, brushed, as polished as he’d ever be. But he was also full-grown, bulky, and free of charm; in a word, he was pretty much unadoptable.

Except.

Her eyes gleamed.

The dog would be the perfect pet for a bachelor.