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“But you’re not getting any younger. I’m just saying don’t waste your good years. Find a nice woman to settle down with who won’t bore you to tears before dessert comes. There’s something to be said for good companionship and friendship. Ed and I were married fifty years before he passed, and I still miss the sound of his voice in the mornings and the irritating way he’d chew his toast. Bless his soul.”
“Hank says I’m too picky. Maybe marriage just isn’t in the cards for me.”
“Lord have mercy, don’t let your mama hear that.”
“Believe me,” he said, grimacing. “The thought terrifies me. We can trace our ancestry all the way back to the Normans. There’s even a story passed down through the generations about how my eleventh great-grandfather rescued one of the faeries while she was in her human form. And in true storytelling fashion, it turns out she was the daughter of the king. In repayment, the king gave my ancestor the desire of his heart, which was a wife he could love above all others for eternity.”
She sighed. “Well, isn’t that romantic. Maybe that’s why the lot of you are so devilishly handsome. You were kissed by the fairies.”
He grinned, enjoying seeing the softer side of Lucy. “According to legend, it wasn’t just my ancestor who got the gift of the wife of his heart, but every generation after. My cousins and brothers have done a good job of upholding the family legacy, but I just don’t know if it’s in my future. I can’t even imagine myself with the woman of my heart, much less as a father with a bunch of kids. I still don’t know how my parents did it. Parenthood is terrifying.”
Lucy snorted. “You Irish have as much of a gift for hogwash as you do for gab. You’ve just spent these last years focused on the wrong things. But you’re changing as you get older, and your needs and wants are changing too. Stop being such a pinhead and start looking for a real woman instead of those twenty-year-olds who only have one name.”
Colt threw his head back and laughed. “Now you’re starting to sound like my father.”
“Mick O’Hara is no fool,” Lucy said.
“Maybe I should just get a dog.”
As if the universe had heard him, at that moment, the biggest, hairiest animal he’d ever seen streaked in front of the big plate-glass window of the clinic. And trailing behind it was a red leash and a woman who didn’t have the sense to let it go.
Everything happened in slow motion. The papers in her hand slipped out of her grasp and scattered across the ground. She dug in her heels and bent down to pick them up, and at the same time the hairy monster put on a burst of speed that was enough to yank her off her feet and send her flying forehead first into an antique light pole. And then down for the count she went.
“Goodness gravy,” Lucy whispered, horrified. “That horse-dog just deep-sixed that woman.”
Colt’s training kicked into gear and he ran out the front door, getting his first look at the woman sprawled on the ground. She looked young, maybe in her mid-twenties, and her skin was pale and unblemished. She had hair as short as a boy’s and hadn’t bothered with any makeup—she didn’t need any.
He knelt down beside her to see what kind of medical attention she needed and felt for the pulse in her wrist.
She whimpered, but her eyes didn’t open.
“Just take your time,” Colt said. “I’m Dr. O’Hara. You’re okay. You just got knocked silly.”
There was no response, but he hadn’t expected one. She was out cold, and a crowd was starting to gather around.
His cousin Mac ran up a few seconds later.
“Holy mackerel. Did you see that?” she asked. “Is she okay?”
“I take it you’ve got something to do with this?” Colt asked. “Was that Lawrence Fisher’s dog I just saw MMA this woman?”
“One and the same,” Mac said, her nervousness making her not let any lull in the conversation. “When Lawrence died he willed the dog to his brother, but Lionel didn’t want him. And no one else wanted Chewy either because he’s so big, so he got sent to us. But Lordy, you’d have thought someone shot a starting pistol at the way he took off out the door.”
“Prison changes a man,” Colt said dryly. “I’m sure Chewy saw his shot and went for it.”
“He caught us all by surprise,” Mac said. “He was as well behaved as you please before all the paperwork was signed. Then as soon as Zoe opened the door he took off and never looked back, dragging Zoe along behind him. I guess getting pardoned from death row will do that to you.”
Colt grunted and said, “Her name is Zoe?”
“Zoe Green,” Mac said. “She’s really nice. Just moved here. She lives in one of Hank’s condos. I think she’s going through some stuff. Like a total life restart. But she’s got great shoes and that purse is one I see in my dreams.”
“Maybe we should let her wake up before you start reading me her bio,” Colt said. “She just got knocked loopy. Let’s get her moved into the clinic.”
A shadow cast itself over Zoe, and Colt looked up into an unrepentant face of white fur. Chewy was panting and his red leash lay on the ground beside him.
“Not the best first impression,” Colt told the dog.
Chewy cocked his head and whined, and then put his giant paw on Zoe’s arm.
