Now his hand was back in his hair, tugging. “I’m Tyler Johnson,so …”
“So he’s Ford Fido Johnson?” She narrowed her eyes at him.“Wait. I thought he wasn’t your dog?” On her pretty face was an expression hecould only describe as part-bemusement, part-smirk.
She knows I’m a total dumbass. Smart girl.
“It’s actually sort of a joint custody situation.”
A look he couldn’t make out flitted over her features. She’sprobably debating whether to call the Looney Tunes police to haul my ass away.
“A joint custody situation as in a breakup that resulted insharing the dog with your ex, uh, partner?” she offered.
If he’d just swallowed a drink, he would’ve sprayed it allover her. She thinks I’m gay. Because I told her a guy owned the dog. Well,shit.
He bounced on the balls of his feet. “No, nothing like that.I’ve taken care of my buddy’s dog for so long it feels like he’s mine.” God, hesucked at lying. “I like women,” he added for good measure. “A lot.” That wasmost definitely not a lie, but Christ, why couldn’t he keep his damnmouth shut?
She dipped her head—he could’ve sworn she was trying not tolaugh—and raised it again. “Look, I haven’t decided if I’m ready to take on anew client.”
Not one who’s nuts anyway. “I totally get that.”
“I won’t make any promises,” honey-eyed Natalie said. “Butyou’ve got my card, so feel free to give me a try.”
His dick gave a rousing cheer. Hell yeah, I’ll give you atry. With some effort, he reminded himself—again—he wasn’t going there.“Yeah, sure.”
He stood tongue-tied as she hopped into her car and buckledup. “Well, it’s been nice chatting with you, Tyler.”
“Yeah, sure,” he repeated, as though his entire vocabularyhad been reduced to those two words. He tapped the side of her car twice andstepped away.
She was rolling out of the parking lot when he finally readthe card. Her name, website, email address, and phone number. What more did heneed?
Oh right. A dog. And to remind himself—over andover—that he was only doing this to help Natalie Foster. Because he’d been theone who’d put her dead center in this mess. And that was the only reason.
She’s Kevin May’s, and she’s absolutely off-limits.
He’d need to tell himself a few thousand times more.
CHAPTER 10
This’ll Work, I Just Know ItWill
Natalie took one quick peek in her rearview—justenough to glimpse Tyler’s tall, broad form as he tried in vain to tame hisrebellious curls.
Was she considering taking on his “shared custody” dog? God,yes! She’d tried not to come off as desperate, but she was, in fact, desperate.Payment in advance for twenty-four-seven dog-sittingwould be like hitting a jackpot in Central City. And the guy seemed … Well, nice. Not to mention polite. His stolid expressionhadn’t reflected even a ghost of a wince when she’d cracked her awful pawsjoke. So lame, Nat.
Driving out of the parking lot, she mused that talking tohim in the cafeteria had suspended her wallowing, if only for a short time.It’d felt good to work out her rusty smiling muscles and unwind some of thetight coils in her shoulders. Laughter therapy.
The few times he’d smiled at her, it had lit his darkgolden-green eyes like a shaft of sunlight in a forest’s depths. Bet hebreaks a lot of hearts with that look. Oh well. Not her problem. He was apotential client, and she didn’t mess in her clients’ personal lives, thoughshe already knew this one liked women. A lot.He’d certainly made that clear. A chuckle bubbled up inside her. Ford Fido. Sheshook her head.
“God, that has to be the stupidest name I’ve everheard,” she snorted as she drove. “I hope the dog has a sense of humor.”
Her own sense of humor grew more fleeting the closer she gotto her sick-dog client’s house and, like wisps of smoke, disappeared entirelywhen her Durango conked out and stubbornly refused to be coaxed back to life.She dropped her head against the steering wheel, banging it repeatedly in afeeble attempt to break loose some plan of attack. Get it together,Nat. Can’t afford to lose what’s left of your sanity.
A white cruiser pulled up behind her, and a policewomanstepped from the vehicle. “You okay, miss?”
Damn it, she barely knew anymore.
.~* * * ~.
An hour after leaving CraigHospital, T.J. stood outside Miller’s house, ready to fulfill his pledge,buoyed because he’d found a way to help Natalie. Never mind that it was a reallybad idea.
Paige opened the door and stepped aside. “T.J., how nice tosee you. Come in.” She wore a look that was part-bewilderment, part-fluster.He’d only texted her fifteen minutes ago to find out if he could stop by.“Beck’s out of town.” She shut the door behind her.
“I’m here to see you, not him.” T.J. was pleased he couldtell Becks his wife looked perfectly healthy.
“Oh! Is this about your condo?”
He nodded.
“Great. Let’s have a seat in my office.”
A few strides, and she motioned for him to sit beforesettling behind a large desk stacked with paint decks, a kitchen faucet, and aprecarious pile of carpet samples. He could have been looking at a miniaturehome improvement store.
“Sorry about the mess. Can I get you coffee? Water?”
“No, thanks.”
She folded her arms on the desk and leaned forward, a smileplaying on her lips. “How can I help you?”
“So those houses you’ve been sending me … Therewas one I really liked, and I wondered if we could take a look at it?” T.J.patted himself for coming up with this ruse.
Paige began tapping away on her computer. “Which one?”
He scratched his neck. “Uh, it was a brown one in Highland,I think. Or maybe the Tennyson District.”
Eyes on her screen, she smirked. “That narrows it down.”Before he could counter her sarcasm, she said, “Doesn’t matter. All the ones onthe west side of I-25 are under contract.”
He mustered disappointment. “Oh.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Gotta movefast in
