HE HARDLY SAW them for the rest of the day.
Oh, he stayed around to make sure Alice was safe. His housekeeper, for some reason looking almost rigid with disapproval, showed Kiara to her room—at the other end of the house from his. The dog followed beside her, pressed against her leg, and Alice trailed after, a shadow, ten feet away. Watching from the sidelines.
They ate lunch together. Kiara made small talk, bubbly nothings about his gorgeous house, the swimming pool... Was it heated? Did Alice swim? Did she think they might eventually teach Bunji to swim?
Alice either didn’t respond or did so in monosyllables. Yes, no. That was her way. After all those words at the front door, she’d retreated.
Bunji lay under Kiara’s chair, pressed against her leg. Not moving more than she had to. Every now and then he saw Kiara’s hand slip down to pat the dog’s ears.
The housekeeper came and went—a sniff or two to show her displeasure at a dog being inside her pristine house—but, dammit, this was his house.
And then he thought, was it? All the time he’d lived here, it was his succession of agency housekeepers who’d made the decisions on how to treat it. There’d been an architect first, then an interior designer, then gardeners and housekeepers.
He was surrounded by competence and cleanliness. Up until now, no dog would have dared show its face.
‘Where will Bunji sleep?’
It was a whisper of a query, made as Alice pushed her half-eaten meal back. He’d expected her standard ‘Please may I leave the table?’ which was what he always got, almost as soon as she sat down. Surely this had to be an improvement.
‘She can sleep by my bed,’ Kiara told her. ‘Until she wants to sleep by yours. That is, if you want her to. Would you like her to?’
‘Dogs sleep outside.’ It was a snap, coming from the middle-aged woman who was clearing the plates. She’d been sniffing her disapproval ever since Bunji had entered the house.
‘Then I guess I sleep outside, too,’ Kiara said, unblinkingly cheerful. ‘Do you guys have a tent?’
‘A tent?’ Alice was clearly taken aback.
‘You know, one of those canvas shelters you sleep in outside. It’s called camping. It looks like it’ll be warm tonight. We could set it up on the front lawn. It’d be fun.’
‘The dog sleeps inside,’ Bryn growled, and was he imagining it or did Alice’s face fall a little?
‘I’m allergic.’ The housekeeper ceased clearing and crossed her arms in a stance that could only be called belligerent. ‘It’s already making my eyes run. I’m sorry, but enough. Either the dog stays outside, or I leave.’
There was a challenge.
If there was one thing Dr Bryn Dalton valued above all others it was order. He’d valued it before Skye and her daughter had arrived and thrown his life into chaos, and since then it had been the one thing he’d held to. Routine. Control.
Mrs Hollingwood had been with him now for over twelve months and he valued her. His meals arrived on time. His home was spotless. His possessions were never messed with. She’d seamlessly taken on Alice’s care, making sure she was fed and clean, bringing out the useless games he’d purchased at the recommendation of the psychologists, clearing them away when it became clear Alice wasn’t interested.
She was probably the best of the housekeepers he’d had, and she was now standing with her chest thrust forward, a line in the sand. The dog or me.
‘There’s plenty more jobs I can get through the agency,’ she told him, and she thought she had him over a barrel. She knew his love of order. Her frustration had matched his the day his wheelchair had crunched over something Alice had left on his Italian mosaic floor and irreparably marked it. Mrs Hollingwood had cleaned it noisily, hmphing her displeasure.
And now...his perfect housekeeper was prepared to walk away because of a dog?
‘She won’t make a mess,’ Alice said in a small voice.
‘It’ll shed,’ the woman said, and jutted her bosom out still further. ‘And look at those sores. You can’t tell me that’s hygienic.’
‘Tents don’t cost much,’ Kiara said, semi-helpfully, from the other end of the table, and he glanced at her and thought—was she laughing? ‘I have one back at Two Tails. If it’s just for the week I can go home and fetch it, if you like.’
‘Can I sleep in the tent, too?’ Alice asked.
Oh, for heaven’s sake... ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, definitely. ‘But, Mrs Hollingwood, I’m afraid the dog stays, and it stays inside.’
Her face puckered, prune like. ‘You won’t get another housekeeper at short notice.’
There was a moment’s silence. Something had to give, but by the look on Mrs Hollingwood’s face, it wasn’t going to be her.
The dog or the housekeeper...
‘Why do you need a housekeeper?’ Kiara said at last, head cocked to one side as if interested in something she didn’t understand.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I can hardly cook and clean.’
She looked at him for a long moment, glanced at his walking sticks leaning against his chair, and nodded.
‘Fair enough, but Alice and I can. That might give you time to find someone else.’
‘My niece isn’t here to be a drudge.’
‘A drudge?’ Her brows rose. ‘Cleaning and cooking? That’s hardly fair on Mrs Hollingwood.’
Uh-oh. Somehow he’d thrown petrol onto the fire and, predictably, it flared.
‘I’m not a drudge,’ the woman snapped. ‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, appalled. ‘I didn’t mean...’
‘But I won’t work with the dog here. I mean, maybe one of those cute ones that don’t shed, but not this one. This dog’s disgusting.’
Alice had stood up. Now she moved, almost imperceptibly, to stand by Kiara’s chair. ‘I can learn to cook,’ she said, and it was a frightened quaver, but her chin jutted a little.
‘Hey, I can cook eggs,’ Kiara said brightly. ‘I can do ’em three ways, boiled, fried, poached. Though,’ she admitted thoughtfully, ‘sometimes my poached don’t work too well. I watched a video on putting them in water after you’ve made the water twirl—you know, like going in circles down the bath plug. All that happened was I got twirly strings of egg. I had to get them out with a strainer. They tasted good on toast though. Hey, Alice, I can make toast, too.’
‘Me, too,’ Alice said, a bit more firmly.
And then, to his amazement, Kiara put up her hand and grinned. ‘Snap. High five! We’re home and hosed in the cooking department.’
And what was even more astonishing was that his little niece looked up at her upraised hand and smiled—she actually smiled!—and she high-fived in response.
Was that the first smile he’d ever seen from her? The first chink in her stoic impassivity?
Whatever, he felt like high-fiving himself. He needed a photo to send to Beatrice.
He needed Kiara to stay. Which meant...
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Hollingwood, but if you can’t stay with Kiara and her dog then we’ll have to terminate,’ he said gently. ‘I’ll organise terms with the agency.’
‘You’ll never get anyone else at this short notice.’
‘Then stringy eggs it is, I guess,’ he said, not taking his eyes from his niece. Unless it was to look at the chuckling woman who was now grinning at Alice as if she knew what a wonder she’d just achieved.
This woman was used to healing wounded creatures, he thought, and maybe, just maybe, her skills could be used to bring some joy to Alice.
He watched her for a moment longer and the thought flashed stupidly through his mind... Maybe she could bring some joy into his life as well?
Well, there was a stupid thought. Yes, he’d been wounded but only physically. His leg was healing. Soon he’d be back to normal—he’d have his life back to where he wanted it.
He could go back to having a decent housekeeper who kept his ordered world in the state he liked it. He could return to work with colleagues who shared his passion for state-of-the-art medical technology.
He could return to dating the women who understood his world, who didn’t mess with his boundaries.
This woman was here for his niece. He might have to put up with stringy eggs for a while—and a shedding dog for a while longer—but she was a paid employee, here to do a job.
And that was it.
He excused himself and returned to his study as soon as lunch was done. Mrs Hollingwood was noisily clearing in the kitchen—‘I’ll wash up and then I’m done,’ she’d snapped, and the noise she was making made the whole house aware of how angry she was.
She did have her reasons, he conceded. Drudge had been an insulting word. He’d tried to apologise but she was having none of it.
‘You’ve said it, you’ll pay,’ she’d sniffed, and when he rang the agency to try and find a replacement, he found she’d got in before him.
‘You’ve insulted one of our best workers,’ he was told. ‘And childminding was never on your list of requirements when you engaged her. Our staff is pressed to the limit. With what’s happened I’m afraid you’ll go well down the list. We’ll let you know when we have anyone available.’
He made another couple of calls to alternative places but no luck.
So he had a gammy leg, a kid, a dog and a vet. He had no help.
But in a way he did. He glanced out of his window and saw Kiara and Alice had settled on the lawn, under the shade of a gorgeous flowering jacaranda. The dog was lying stretched out in front of them. Kiara seemed to be talking, but not much. He couldn’t see any response from Alice, but while he watched, her hand tentatively came out and stroked the dog’s flank. A tiny stroke, almost immediately pulling back.
Kiara didn’t seem to notice, was making no comment. She lay back and put her hands under her head, looking up through the dappling leaves. Sunlight was filtering through. While he watched, one of a drift of soft purple flowers disengaged from its branches and wafted down to land on her face.
She lifted it up and put it to her nose, and then smiled. And gently put the flower on the grass about three inches from Bunji’s nose.
For some reason he found he was holding his breath.
There was a long pause while the dog didn’t move and neither did Alice or Bunji. And then, almost at the same instant, the injured dog stretched forward a little—and right at that moment Alice leant over and put her nose on the bloom.
Noses touched.
They stayed, just like that, noses touching, for a long, long moment. Kiara didn’t say a word, she just lay and watched.
This time he was sure it wasn’t just him who was holding his breath. Maybe it was the whole world?
And then finally Alice lifted her head. Her hand came out and fondled the dog’s uninjured ear. Her face turned up to Kiara’s and she...
Giggled.
Oh, my...
High fives were never enough. Why did he feel like crying?
He had a student’s PhD thesis on his desk. The ‘Study of Neurological Problems After Heart Surgery’ had some dubious sections—he needed to check references. He also had housekeeper problems.
Instead, he sat by the window and watched a kid watch a dog.
And watched a woman perform miracles?
They ate pizzas. Ordered in. Compared to the healthy food Mrs Hollingwood had been serving up, it left a lot to be desired. It couldn’t last—he needed to find a cook or at least discover a healthy order-in source—but, watching Alice eat, he couldn’t feel all bad.
Because she did eat. Bunji was stretched out on her dog bed, which Alice had set up beside her own chair. Kiara had said it was fine for Bunji to lie on the floor, but Alice had defiantly gone and fetched a blanket from her own bed. They’d compromised by lugging Bunji’s big cocoon bed into the kitchen. ‘I guess it can go wherever Bunji goes for a while,’ Kiara had said.
‘Do you always provide such a bed for your clients?’ Bryn asked, trying not to let Alice see him watching her. Was she really eating her third slice?
‘Bunji’s special,’ Kiara said blithely. She was on her third slice, too. He’d ordered big, thinking it could be reheated for lunch tomorrow, but he obviously had another think coming. ‘Besides, if you decide to keep her, it goes on your account.’
He blinked. Kiara grinned happily at him and kept on munching.
She really was extraordinary.
‘So, I read about you on the Internet,’ she said, and he nodded, torn between watching her and watching his niece. ‘You’re a doctor.’
‘I am.’ Cautious.
‘That’s excellent, because for the next few days I could use an assistant. I guess if you have qualifications, you might just do.’
And there was another blink. He might just...do?
‘Um...thank you,’ he said, cautiously. ‘I might just...do what?’
‘You can see the dressing on Bunji’s thigh?’ She motioned down. The dog’s wounds were in various stages of healing but there was still a pad over her left hind thigh. Nothing else was covered.
‘I wondered,’ he said. ‘Why isn’t she wearing a cone?’ He’d seen dogs before, friends’ dogs, recovering from surgery and wearing wide plastic cones to stop them ripping at dressings.
‘Because she has the sense to leave it alone,’ Kiara said. ‘Actually, we didn’t have a choice. Her neck was so ulcerated we couldn’t put anything on it. We sedated her for the first few days, but after that...it seems anything we do to her is okay with Bunji.’
‘Her neck was sore?’ Alice asked, looking down at the dog with concern.
‘Her owners didn’t check her collar,’ Kiara told her. ‘So when she grew, her collar got tighter and tighter.’
There was a silence while Alice thought this through.
Would he have told her that? Bryn wondered. Probably not. This kid had been through so much, she hardly needed more trauma. Alice ceased eating, then she put her hand down and tenderly stroked the dog’s neck.
‘I’m glad you have me,’ she said, softly. ‘I won’t let you get hurt again.’
And there it was, an almost instant acceptance of ownership. Or responsibility.
Of connection.
Dammit, he was blinking again, and this time it wasn’t through astonishment. Real men didn’t cry. Like hell they don’t, he thought savagely, and closed his eyes for a moment to give him time to pull himself together.
When he opened them, Kiara was watching thoughtfully. And was there a hint of laughter there as well?
‘I guess I’ll be billing you for the dog basket,’ she said, and there it was. Definitely laughter.
This woman was unlike any woman he’d ever met before, plainly dressed, direct, and totally focused on her animals. She was here to get what she wanted—money for her shelter, a home for one of her strays.
What was it in her laughter that made him feel like joining in?
He managed a smile, but only just. He was suddenly feeling on shaky ground.
He wasn’t accustomed to emotion. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling how this woman made him feel.
No. It was the way the situation made him feel, he told himself harshly. Get a grip.
‘Early days yet,’ he growled.
‘Yep,’ she agreed cheerfully. ‘You have a whole week to change your mind. Or Alice does.’ But the appraising look she gave Alice—who’d returned to her pizza—also had a hint of smug. ‘So meanwhile, can I take it that you’ll accept the job as my medical assistant? Assuming, of course, that you don’t faint at the sight of an open wound.’
‘I’m a surgeon,’ he said faintly.
‘Yes, but my research says you’re a professor in neurosurgery. What I know about neurosurgery is that it’s pretty much all done with technology. Tiny cameras. Robotic stuff. Plus, you’d have nurses to clean up any mess. How long since you got your hands dirty, Dr Dalton?’
‘I do work with trauma patients,’ he said stiffly, though he had to admit, by the time he was called in the messy stuff had generally been dealt with.
‘Well, that’s a relief.’
‘So what do you want me to do?’
‘Help me change her dressing.’
‘You need help with that?’
But he got a look then. A look that said back off.
‘Alice, I’d like you to help me with most things for Bunji,’ she said, talking to them both. ‘If you’re willing. But there’s this one spot that needs your uncle’s help. The sore on Bunji’s leg needs cleaning every day, and Bunji wiggles. I need your uncle to hold her still. I do it first thing in the morning and last thing at night.’
‘You mean...after I go to bed?’ Alice asked.
‘I guess,’ Kiara told her. ‘You probably go to bed earlier than we do. But...’ She hesitated. ‘It’s up to you,’ she told her. ‘If your uncle says it’s okay, then Bunji can be your dog now, and you can make the decisions. Is that okay with you, Dr Dalton?’
‘Bryn,’ he said, a bit too gruffly. Hell, where were these emotions coming from?
‘Can Bunji be my dog?’ Alice was all eyes.
So was Kiara. They were both looking at him, hopeful, expectant.
Even the dog was looking at him.
He thought suddenly of his sister, ten years older than him, bossy, gruff, overbearing. It was going to kill him to ring Beatrice and tell her she’d been right.
‘Well?’ Kiara said and her voice sounded almost teasing. Her laughter was insidious. He met her eyes, and he couldn’t help smiling back.
And that smile... It felt as if something was cracking inside, something he didn’t even know existed until now.
This was nonsense. It was emotional garbage, but Alice was waiting for an answer. They were all waiting for an answer.
‘Fine,’ he said, and he hadn’t meant to sound quite as exasperated as he did. But he was feeling out of control, and control was something he valued above almost all else.
‘If Dr Brail needs help, then I’ll help her,’ he told Alice. ‘And if at the end of the week you still want her, yes, you can have her. Dr Brail will teach you all you need to know.’
‘It’s Kiara,’ Kiara said gently and that smile softened.
But she was smiling at Alice, not at him. Her focus was all on the child. And the dog.
That was why she was here, he told himself. She needed to find this dog a home and earn money for her shelter. Then she’d be gone.
But why did he need to remind himself of that?
He didn’t, he told himself. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter.
She was a paid professional, here to do a job. She’d move on at the end of the week, leaving with the alacrity his housekeeper had just shown.
Leaving him with Alice.
That was what this was all about, he told himself, and no one could help him there. He needed to forge a relationship with a kid who needed...family?
If he could pay someone to fix that...
‘So is it agreed?’ Kiara asked, cutting across his thoughts, and he had to focus on here, on now. Where had this conversation started? Asking for help to change a dog’s dressing?
‘I can help,’ he muttered and there was that flicker of amusement again.
‘I can do it myself,’ she told him. ‘But it’s so much better to work as a team. I’d imagine you’d find that in your working life, too, Dr Dalton.’
His working life. High-end neurosurgery. A team of brilliant clinicians, doctors, nurses, technicians.
‘You know, I’m thinking one vet, one neurosurgeon and one little girl to love her, that’s a force that might just make Bunji completely well again,’ she told him, still smiling. ‘So what do you say, team? Alice, are you in?’
‘I’m part of a team?’ Alice ventured, unsure.
‘A Bunji-loving team,’ Kiara said. ‘What do you say?’
‘I want to,’ Alice whispered and then looked at Bryn. ‘All of us?’
And what was a man to say to that? ‘All of us,’ he said weakly—and why did it suddenly feel like falling?