“Beaker and I won’t tell if you don’t.” Ben frowned. “You’re not afraid of dogs, are you, Emma?”
“N-no. Not small, harmless dogs with teeth the size of toothpicks.”
He looked over at Mike, who had taken two steps back. The boy’s face looked as pale as Emma’s.
Well, hell. The Sandses were afraid of dogs.
Ben cupped Emma’s hip just as Beaker leaned forward and gave her a wet lap on the hand. She whimpered at the gentle greeting.
“Beaker won’t hurt you, Em. Actually he’s partial to women.” He looked at Mikey. “He likes boys, too,” he added as he pushed the dog down.
“We … we can’t have a dog at Medicine Creek Camps, Ben,” she said, her voice growing stronger in direct relation to Beaker’s distance. “They chase deer.”
“Beaker won’t. He’s been trained to stay close to people.”
Her gaze was on her new pet, who was now eyeing Mike with interest. The boy was all but plastered to the wall, and it looked like he’d stopped breathing, too.
“Good God, people. He’s not going to eat you,” Ben said with waning patience. “He’s a fine dog and will be a good addition to the household.”
“He’s nearly as big as Pitiful.” Emma pushed a button and lifted the head of her bed.
She immediately stopped when Beaker turned at the noise.
“Then the two of them should get along great.” Ben stood up, his hands on his hips and his expression showing that his patience was gone. “Beaker needs you as well as the peace and quiet of your woods. You’re going to have to coddle him. Take him with you wherever you go. He loves riding in the truck.”
He started out of the room. “So make peace with the animal, Emma. You’re all that’s standing between him and a nervous breakdown.”
“Wait!”
He stopped and looked back at her.
“Where are you going?”
“To clean up the mess you started yesterday.”
He stopped just outside the door, and waited to see how the three inside were going to deal with one another.
“Walk over to this side of the bed,” he heard Emma whisper. “Slowly, Mikey. Don’t spook him.”
Ben leaned forward to peek in the room. Mike was making a Herculean effort to unglue himself from the wall. The boy slowly inched his way around Beaker, never taking his eyes off the dog.
“Nice dog,” Emma said softly, staring at Beaker. She had her water pitcher in her hand, looking ready to hurl it at the poor, unsuspecting dog should he attack her nephew.
Ben shook his head. They were petrified of a gentle dog?
Well, Beaker was gentle with his charges. The highly trained guard dog could rip an assailant into pieces if he wanted to. He was intelligent, perceptive, and vigilant, having been trained at one of the best facilities in the country.
Ben only hoped the poor animal had plenty of patience.
“He doesn’t look that mean, Nem,” he heard Mike say, now that the boy had the safety of the bed between them. “He’s kind of handsome. And look at his eyes. They’re sort of sad-looking.”
“They look crafty to me. Who knows what he’s
really thinking?”
“Dad wouldn’t have brought you a dangerous pet, Nem. Beaker was trained to protect the people he lives with, not eat them.”
Ben saw Emma eyeing Beaker with suspicion. “I don’t like dogs—especially when they’re bigger than me. One bite and I could lose an arm or a leg.”
“Aw, Jeez, look at him. We’re hurting his feelings. We should talk to him.”
“Why don’t you walk over and pet him, then?”
Mike vigorously shook his head. “Nope. You heard Dad. Beaker’s your dog. Youshould make the first move.”
Emma glared up at her nephew and then at the doorway. Ben moved back into the shadows and waited.
“I can’t believe he has the nerve to bring a dog in here!”
“I don’t think anyone would have stopped him if he’d brought him in the front door. They scrambled into action when he asked to see your doctor. I actually tried to hide behind the vending machine.”
“He just dumped this animal with us and left! He didn’t even ask how I was feeling,” Emma said, sounding utterly dejected.
Ben hadn’t trusted himself to mention her condition, much less how she’d gotten here. But he’d read her chart three times. She had a flesh wound in her upper left arm that had required ten stitches, but the bullet hadn’t done any major damage. She had a nasty bump on her forehead, her right ankle was wrapped because of a sprain, and she had bumps and bruises that she’d certainly feel tomorrow morning.
The doctor had said Ben could take her home this evening.
As for Beaker, he was more than ready to begin his new job as her personal guardian. Benwas the one on the edge of a nervous breakdown.
“That’s what scares me, Nem. He hasn’t said a word about the crash or your arm, or even asked how it happened. He just showed up here and asked to speak to whoever was in charge. Then he hugged me for two solid minutes, and told me to come in here while he spoke with the doctor.”
“I … I think maybe I should stay with Greta a few days,” Emma said. “You could, too, if you want.”
“In the same house as Wayne?”
So that bastard Poulin was somehow involved in this, was he? With renewed anger, and now with a direction to aim it, Ben left the hospital.
Emma had been expecting a lecture, and would have preferred it to that peck on the cheek and a giftthat had teeth the size of elephant tusks.
She’d nearly killed his son, and now she’d opened a can of worms that had left her with a wound that ached like the devil, a nephew who was bruised and battered, and a tangle of metal that had once been her plane.
And a dog.
Emma ignored the beast that fell into step beside them as Ben carried her up to the house. Mikey was trailing behind, still looking a little lost as he carried the flowers he’d brought to the hospital.
Emma looked over Ben’s shoulder at the cove, where her Cessna usually sat. She’d loved that plane. She had scrimped and saved and extended herself to buy it five years ago. It was the workhorse of her business. Now it was gone, and she was laid up for at least a month. She’d have to call all the sports she had booked for this month and cancel their reservations.
Deer hunting season was her most lucrative time of year. Now she was going to have to return all the deposits and eat the loss, and leave a lot of people disappointed.
“Do you want me to take you to your bedroom, or do you feel like sitting up for a while?” Ben asked as they entered the kitchen.
Which was already occupied.
Her curiosity outweighing her fatigue, Emma said she’d sit at the table. “Mikey. Could you make me a cup of tea?” she asked as she eyed the two men standing by the counter.
Not appearing surprised to find men in his house, and with the energy of someone glad to have something to do, Mikey put the kettle on to boil.
Emma studied the two men with open curiosity.
Ben cleared his throat. “Emma. I would like you to meet Atwood,” he said, gesturing to one of the men. “He’s my secretary in New York.”
The man smiled. “Nice to meet you, Miss Sands.”
Emma stifled a snort as she shook his hand. Secretary, her ass. Atwood looked like he ate babies for breakfast. There was no way those beefy hands dallied on a keyboard all day—nor could she see him answering phones and serving coffee to clients. His hard, piercing blue eyes never stopped moving, as if he expected someone to come crawling out of one of the cupboards with a machine gun.
The other man, who was dressed like Paul Bunyan, looked like he hunted down the babies for Atwood’s breakfast.
“This is my brother-in-law, Skyler,” Atwood said, now standing back by the counter. “Mr. Sinclair was nice enough to let him join me for this trip. He’s on hiatus.”