Bo laughed. “I don’t know if I’ve trained her or she’s trained me, but I’ve learned not to underestimate her ego, vanity, persistence, or intelligence. She’d be a pain in the butt if she wasn’t so happy and loving.”
He just shook his head. He looked as if he thought Tricks was a pain in the butt regardless of how happy she was, but so what? Tricks would be here long after he was gone.
“She’s two years old, then?”
“About two and a half, now. She was originally bought-and registered-by old Mrs. Carmichael. I couldn’t have afforded her. But about two weeks after Mrs. Carmichael got her, the old lady had a heart attack on the way to visit a friend and crashed the car. Tricks was with her, in a travel crate, thank God. Mrs. Carmichael died from the heart attack.” Bo watched as Tricks sniffed around, found a suitable place, and finally deigned to empty her bladder. “The puppy was terrified and trembling. I took her with me to the station while Mrs. Carmichael’s son was notified and just held her in my arms. Then it turned out Mrs. Carmichael’s son didn’t want her and told me to give her away to anyone who wanted her.”
“That would be you.”
“Yes, indeed,” Bo said ruefully. “I didn’t know anything about puppies, I’d never had a pet, but by then I’d been holding her for a few hours and I suppose she’d imprinted on me. The son went to his mother’s house and gathered up all Tricks’s food and toys and brought them to me. He was sleepwalking from shock, but he knew his wife didn’t want a dog. I brought Tricks and all her stuff home with me and did some panicked research on how to take care of a puppy. She was still terrified, in a new place, and wouldn’t stop shaking unless I held her. When I put her in her little crate that night, she cried. It broke my heart. So I got her out and let her sleep curled against me. That was that.”
“Pushover.” His mouth quirked with humor.
“You think you could have resisted a little ball of white fur? She looked like a baby’s stuffed animal, or a cotton ball with big feet.” A demonic cotton ball, at that. The first year had been hell on wheels until Tricks decided she had to defer to the human who controlled the food.
“We always had pets when I was growing up,” he said, which didn’t really answer the question. Then he shrugged. “Now, I’m not at home enough to take care of a cactus.”
“Didn’t you say you’re from Florida?” She thought he had, but she’d had other things on her mind that afternoon.
“Yeah. What about you? That isn’t a West Virginia accent.”
“All over. I was born in Arizona, but I don’t remember it. Mom moved a lot.” And married a lot, hence the moving. Morgan was good, spotting the difference between her accent and Jesse’s. Over the years, she thought her speech had modified. In the rare instances when her mother got in touch-both times-she’d said something about how “hick” Bo sounded now. Maybe the accent was a good mother-repellent because she hadn’t heard from Rebecca in a few years now. She loved her mother, but she loved her best at a distance.
“How long have you been here?”
“Seven years.”
That seemed to dry up their small talk for a while. He sat quietly in the sun, looking at the greening grass, the budding trees. Whatever he did for a living was obviously hazardous, so Bo guessed he wasn’t accustomed to either the quiet of country living or his current state of inactivity. She threw the ball some more for Tricks, who joyously retrieved for a good forty-five minutes before going to the bowl of water Bo kept outside, getting a good drink, then flopping down on the concrete to pant and bat the tennis ball back and forth with a paw.
After watching Tricks for a minute, Bo said, “You must be getting a little bored.”
“I’m feeling better,” he replied, which she supposed was an answer. If he was feeling better, of course he was bored. While he hadn’t been able to do anything much more than eat a little and sleep a lot, boredom hadn’t factored in.
“I can’t offer you much to do. Some books to read, the laptop computer. I don’t usually need the laptop for work, so you’re welcome to it.”
“Computer,” he instantly replied. “Thanks.”
She stretched her legs out, rubbed Tricks’s back with her toe. “Afraid they’d be girl books?” At the touch, Tricks rolled over on her back and lay there with her legs in the air and her tongue lolling out, the very picture of canine bliss.
“I wouldn’t care about that.” He paused, and she saw a glint of blue as he slanted a cautious look her way. “Are they?”
“Some. But I also have some mysteries, some suspense, a couple of Stephen Kings. They’re upstairs in my room. I’ll bring a few down, and you can let me know when you need more.”
She didn’t think she’d ever before been able to satisfy a man with some books and a computer, she thought, and hid a smile as she got to her feet and went inside, Tricks at her heels.
CHAPTER 9
ON MONDAY MORNING WHEN BO LEFT HER BEDROOM and looked down on the whole lower floor from the stairs, she realized that she was becoming accustomed to seeing the tall man sprawled asleep on her sofa. “Sprawled” was the operative word; he slept with one long leg draped over the sofa back, and the other either stretched out or with that foot planted on the floor. Given his height and the length of the sofa, he didn’t have much choice. It would be a red-letter day when he was able to climb the stairs and sleep in the guest room, in a real bed.
She thought he looked some better-not a lot, but some. His color wasn’t as gray, and though he’d slept a long time after sitting out in the sunshine yesterday, at least he’d been able to make the effort. Just two days before he’d had difficulty shuffling to the bathroom and back.
His appetite was improving, too. Every day he was able to eat a little more. She was beginning to feel a bit invested in his condition, and that disturbed her. She didn’t want to get to know him on anything more than a superficial level. She wanted him to get well and get gone with as little impact on her life as possible other than the very welcome addition of a hundred and fifty thousand to her bank account.
She had to admit he was playing it smart, keeping things low-key. She thought he was normally a take-charge guy accustomed to command, but he was careful to not be demanding. Though occasionally some impatience leaked through, he never let it become more than a leak. Likewise, several times he was a tad grouchy, but the grouch never escalated into anger. After the choking incident, they both worked to keep things under control, and she was appreciative of his efforts.
Tricks, however, knew no boundaries. He was a new playmate in her world, and she was determined to make him play. She bounded down the stairs now, full of energy and enthusiasm, and raced to the sofa to push her nose into his armpit before depositing her tennis ball on his chest. The ball rolled off and she pounced on it with joy.
He groaned and swung his legs down as he eased to a sitting position. “Hey, girl,” he croaked in a rough morning voice, giving Tricks a quick rub behind the ears as she brought the ball back to him. This time it landed between his spread legs. He quickly grabbed it before she darted her nose toward the ball to show him where it was. Bo stifled a snicker. He’d learned the hard way.
He got up and headed for the bathroom as she started the coffee. They muttered “Morning” at each other, then Bo took Tricks out. Coming back in, she opened the refrigerator to stare at the contents, wondering what she was going to prepare for breakfast. She’d spent a small fortune on groceries just three days before, so why was she having this problem? Because she didn’t usually cook breakfast, that was why. Normally she’d eat some granola and drink coffee while she worked.