Logan sat down fast, put the puppy on his lap, and examined it for injuries. No obvious broken bones. No soft spots on its small skull. As he looked down at the puppy, he swore he heard his sister’s voice in his ear.
It’s cold, you dope. It’s been lying in the snow. Stop playing doctor and start playing nurse.
Right. Yes. Of course. Hypothermia. He unzipped his coat fast and put the puppy inside. Before he could zip it back up, he took the puppy out again and put it under his shirt, too, right against him. Then, being careful to leave the zipper undone enough so the dog wouldn’t smother, he wrapped his arms around it and started to run.
Get to the house. Get Jeremy’s help. He was the Pack medic. He’d know what to do. As for what he’d do about Logan bringing a puppy home? They’d deal with that later.
He was under no illusion that his parents would say, “You found a puppy? All right, then, you can keep it.” And when they didn’t say that, when Kate had a puppy in the house only to see it sent to the shelter? When she blamed their parents? Let’s just say it wasn’t going to be a very merry Christmas.
But he couldn’t think about that. The important thing was the puppy. Maybe he could convince Mom and Dad to set a timeline for Kate. To tell her, “Not this puppy, but another. In a year.”
He was halfway to the house when the puppy woke up. Fast. Like he’d dropped it into a frozen pond. All four tiny limbs shot out and sixteen tiny—and remarkably sharp—claws ripped at his chest.
“Whoa!” Logan said as he skidded to a halt, snow flying. “Hold on!” With one hand, he rubbed the puppy, trying to calm it—and keep from being totally shredded—as he got his coat open and pulled it out.
Once free, the puppy froze, motionless, as if trapped in the jaws of some massive predator. Logan tried to pet it, but it started trembling, like a rabbit under a wolf’s paw. Logan’s own heart pounded along with the puppy’s. What if he did exactly what he’d warned Kate about with that purse dog? If he rescued it, only to give it a heart attack from his scent?
“It’s okay,” he said. “Everything’s okay.”
He kept his voice low and soothing, but the puppy whimpered, as if his talking only made things worse. It twisted in his arms, wriggling and struggling. He couldn’t let it go—it wasn’t old enough to survive out here—but if he scared it to death …
He growled with frustration. The puppy stopped wiggling. It went still. Then, slowly, it looked up at him, confused. He growled again, and it tilted its head but stayed motionless, watching him. Its nostrils flared as it sorted out his scents—canine and human—and he wondered if it wasn’t the canine one that had made it freak out.
He growled, keeping the noise low, the kind of reassuring growl a parent might give. The puppy gave a yip of joy and started wriggling madly, in excitement now, small tongue bathing his face.
“Okay, okay,” he said. “We’re good. Now just … Can you—” The tongue slid into his mouth. “Ugh. No, stop—” He held the puppy at arm’s length. When it stopped, he settled it, firmly, in his arms. “You’re obviously fine. Which is great. But …”
But it was also a problem, because as much as he’d tried to remain sensible and mature about the whole thing, a part of him had still been shouting, I found a puppy! The part that hoped maybe, if he brought home an injured and abandoned dog, and it had to stay with them to recover, their parents would see it wasn’t a big deal and let them keep it. Now, though, he had a perfectly healthy abandoned dog, which would be easy to just whisk off to the shelter. That was, he had to admit, not what he wanted. Not at all.
He looked down at the puppy. It was black and white with medium-length fur. Border collie was the breed that sprang to mind. Border collie mingled with something else, because it was already an armful, meaning there was a larger dog mixed in there. German shepherd, maybe?
Kate had researched the various breeds, trying to find the right one. He’d helped, allegedly just because he enjoyed research but admittedly because, well, because he wanted to dream a little, too. Border collies and other shepherds were at the top of their list. Intelligent and loyal working dogs. German shepherds appealed more to Logan, but Kate had her heart set on a border collie or Australian shepherd, like Reese used to have. Something loyal and intelligent but also cuddly.
Logan looked down at the ball of fur in his arms. This was her dog. There was no other answer. He’d found exactly the perfect dog for her, three days before Christmas. That meant something. It had to.
His sister was supposed to have this dog.
His phone jangled, the alarm sounding.
Shit! Er, crap.
He hit speed-dial as fast as he could, juggling the phone with the puppy. It rang. Rang again.
Come on, Mom. You haven’t put your phone in a drawer yet. I’m out in the forest, which means you’ll keep it in your pocket—
“Hey,” came the answer.
He exhaled. “Mom. Good. You’re there.”
“Not sure where else I’d be, but, yep, I’m here. Your sister’s on her way out to find—”
“No!”
“Hmm?”
“That’s what I’m calling about. Can you stop her? Keep her there? Distract her or something?”
The puppy wriggled, and he adjusted his grip on it.
“Is everything okay?” Mom asked. “You sound—”
“I’m feeling a little off. Restless.”
“Is it your Change? It’s only been a week.”
“No, no. Just restless, like Kate gets. Anyway, it’s nice and quiet out here and …”
Mom chuckled. “And your sister will shatter that silence?”
“I just need time by myself to walk it off. I’ll be in before it’s totally dark. I promise.”
“I know you will. And you are, as always, entitled to time on your own. I’ll keep your sister at bay.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
He hung up. That should do the trick. Even for twins, Logan and his sister were close. Best friends who understood each other in a way no human playmate ever could. But Mom worried that they might need time to themselves now and again, especially as they got older. She’d keep Kate away. Now he had to figure out what to do.
Three days until Christmas. Three days to figure out how to tell his parents that he planned to give his sister a puppy.
His stomach twisted at the thought, because it felt disloyal and a little underhanded. No, a lot underhanded. They weren’t saying “No pets” without good reason. If he said he wanted to give this puppy to Kate, it would kill them to refuse.
What he needed was a defense. Not an impassioned plea, but a reasonable argument. Which meant he had three days to come up with a way to convince his parents, while not making them feel they’d been tricked into agreeing … or like they were monsters if they refused.
What to do with the puppy until then …
The playhouse.
He and Kate had a fort in the forest. Uncle Nick, Reese, and Noah had built it for them a couple of years ago. Or they’d tried. When it failed to actually stand upright, they’d recruited Morgan, who had more experience with construction. The result was a perfect shelter from the elements. Also, the perfect place to hide a puppy.
Putting the puppy in the fort was a fine idea … except that it required the cooperation of the other party, and the puppy was having none of it. After trying several times to leave the dog—only to have it start howling—Logan decided the answer was the same one his parents had used when their “puppies” wouldn’t go to sleep.