Did he have a hiding spot in the trees?
How long had he been out there alone?
He didn’t have a collar or even a hint of one marring his fur like he’d gotten loose. My eyes blurred with happy tears as he tore up the stairs and I hurried around to meet him near the stairs. I crouched to give him kisses and brush away the snow. “Did you have fun?”
His tail wagged as he licked my face.
“We need to name you.” I pushed the fur out of his eyes. “Well, I need to name you. Pretty sure Mr. Porcupine isn’t interested in naming you. Or keeping you.” I dotted his face with kisses, picking chunks of snow out of his fur. “But I always wanted a dog. I’ll keep you. How does that sound?”
He sat down with a plop and his big tongue lolled out.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I stomped my feet. “Let’s go back in.”
He poked his nose against my leg and I took that as a yes. I kicked off my boots and padded into the kitchen, rummaging around for a bowl. Delighted with the serving bowl with a sheep on the side, I filled it with water and set it down.
I crouched beside him as he lapped up the water. I toyed with his ear that was slightly darker than the rest of his fur. “Patches?”
He didn’t react.
“Guess not.”
I took out the last of the chicken I’d set aside and dumped it on a paper plate. “Once Dylan comes by with the plows I’ll get you some proper food.” I set it beside his bowl and he wolfed it down.
After lighting the fireplace, I rubbed my hands against the cold that had settled into the house. I checked the thermostat and gasped that it was only 56º in the house. I boosted it into the high sixties and was rewarded with a blast of air pushing its way through the vents.
Guess we had power.
I wandered into the kitchen. “Where would the coffee be?” I pushed boxes around, removing the sticky note over a number. “Bet that has a spreadsheet attached to it in his phone or something. Not exactly helpful,” I said to the dog.
“How about Falkor? Like the luck dragon?”
His tail stopped wagging.
“Hmm.”
I opened a few boxes and found the rest of his dishes and pretty spectacular cookware. I prided myself on my own stoneware and choice Le Creuset pieces, but Dutch had chef grade stuff.
It looked well loved, and not just for show. I set a frying pan on the stove, then dug around in his fridge. He didn’t have much, so I hunted down a toaster and contented myself with some toast and a generous slather of whipped honey.
I perused the shelves in the living room, surprised at the extensive array of subjects. By the time I finished my toast I had an armful of books. He could have outfitted the entire Haven library with his collection.
I spread out the trio of folklore books on the couch, flipping between two of them as my brain fired up with ideas for the tree at the café. I popped up off the couch. “Shit.” I looked around for my phone.
Had I even brought it with me?
I hurried over to my jacket and found it in the pocket—the battery beyond dead.
Jenna wouldn’t expect me in with this amount of snow, but I’d feel better texting her. Of course that meant I needed a charger.
“Where would I find one of those?”
The ghost of a dog followed me, sitting by my foot. I patted his head. “Do you know where I’d find a charger?”
His tail swished on the hardwood.
“Not helpful, but you sure are cute.” I kissed his nose, then padded down the hallway. I peeked into Dutch’s bedroom. He was still sprawled across the bed. He’d pushed down the blankets showing off all that tanned skin.
Mercy, he had a lot of muscles and that tattoo urged me to step inside.
