Page 69 of Runaway Bride’s Husband

Maggie sat up, her hair completely messed up and her cheeks wet from those happy tears, but she was still painfully fucking gorgeous. “They’re adorable. I’m Maggie, and this is Ryan.”

The owner looked at her like she’d descended from heaven. “Steven. Do you really like Mastiffs?”

“I love them.”

“You’re in luck, then.” He extended a hand and pulled her to her feet. “Blanche has just had another litter of puppies.”

My eyes slid shut. This was going downhill. Rapidly.

Steven led Maggie to the center of the yard, introducing her to every dog and employee as they went. Most of them—the employees, not the dogs—looked like they’d been released from prison on a technicality.

Beards and tattoos abounded. So did scars, side-eyed glances, and more than a few suspicious mutters I could’ve sworn were about my car.

I instantly disliked all of it, but Maggie was grinning like Steven had handed over the keys to Disneyland, which made my objections seem irrelevant.

So I pulled out my phone and cleared my throat. “Alright, let’s talk numbers.”

I spent the next hour negotiating dates, equipment, transportation, and insurance in case somebody lost a limb at Maggie’s wedding, but Steven was thrilled and Maggie was ecstatic. That was the only thing that mattered to me right now, her happiness. Even if it meant planning a carnival for a wedding that might not even happen.

If she wanted a potential public safety disaster on what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, then by God, I would give her one. Maggie, on the other hand, once again wasn’t interested in the logistics.

I wasn’t sure if she just suffered from a severe dislike of admin in general or if it was the planning of this event in particular that got to her, but while we hammered out an actual plan, she wandered away. After promising Steven I’d send a proper contract containing everything we’d agreed to once I got back to my office, I found her sitting on a patch of grass next to a large, wooden pen.

A puppy with paws the size of serving dishes lay on her lap, flat on his back while she absently scratched his tummy. She was smiling down at him, but she seemed far away, like maybe she didn’t even see him at all.

For his part, the puppy was relaxed as could be, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and his eyes half closed. I cleared my throat as I approached them, sliding my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her.

“So, this is where you ran off to,” I said. “You found the puppy pen. Why am I not surprised?”

She glanced up at me, still smiling softly as she sighed and motioned at the dog with her free hand. “Isn’t he the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“No.”

“Come on, Ryan.” She lowered her face a little closer to his. “Just look at him. He’s adorable.”

“He’s going to be huge.” I inclined my head toward the car. “We’re also done here, so if you’d like to say goodbye to your new friend, we can get going.”

“Nah, she can keep him,” Steven said, appearing at my side with a proud grin on his face. “He’s ready to go and he’s a beaut. He should have a home where someone loves him that much.”

Maggie’s face lit up. “Can I keep him? Really?”

Steven opened his mouth, but I took a step forward and shook my head. “No, you can’t keep him.”

“Blanche and Brutus both have good bloodlines,” Steven said to me, as if that might be the issue. “They’ve also got sweet temperaments, and so far, it looks like this little guy shares that.”

“Yeah, still no.”

The puppy yawned and Maggie looked at me like I’d kicked him. “But he likes me.”

“He likes that you’re holding him and scratching his tummy.”

“No.” She gave him an adoring smile. “He loves me and I love him.”

“You met him thirty minutes ago.”

She shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

One of the other carnies wandered over. “You should let her have him. He’ll be good to her. Protection. Companionship. Cuddles. He’ll do it all.”