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‘Nobody’s accusing you of abandoning him. You got help, that’s as much as you could do.’ He swore. ‘Damn it, I don’t have time to argue—’
‘So stop arguing and start driving,’ ordered Kate, climbing in behind him and shutting the door with a snap. She eased herself down on the bench seat by the dog’s head and squirmed her way into the seat belt, being careful not to entangle the animal.
‘What if something happened on the way?’ she pointed out as Drake pulled onto the road. ‘You have to concentrate on your driving. The poor thing is probably scared out of its wits as well as being in pain. He could hurt himself again if he starts to panic. He might not be used to travelling in a car.’ Her tight voice dropped into a croon. ‘Someone’s got to be here to hold your paw, don’t they, boy?’
The dog was lying on its side, and its panting breath moistened her bare thigh below her khaki shorts. She fondled a floppy ear and brushed the woolly strands of fur away from the single visible eye, which glistened dolefully, making her feel even more guilty. For once she was grateful when he gave her leg a disgustingly gooey swipe.
‘Oh! He licked me. Do you think that’s a good sign?’ she said hopefully.
‘Licking you is always a sign that something good’s about to happen,’ came the mocking response.
Kate’s glare drilled into the back of his head above the headrest. ‘How can you make jokes at a time like this?’
‘What better time to try and deflect thoughts of doom and gloom?’ he said harshly. ‘Humour in the face of adversity is a very useful human defence mechanism.’
Of course it was, and particularly so for Drake, she realised. The dry wit, flirtatious wordplay and entertaining anecdotes with which he avoided intrusive questions were the perfect distraction from his real feelings. Didn’t she do exactly the same thing when trying to shield herself from caring too much?
She looked over at his hands on the wheel, and noticed them shifting with a rapidity and frequency that wasn’t necessary for the control of the vehicle. He was fighting frustration, charged with adrenalin-fuelled urgency that he had to control for the sake of driving them safely on the narrow, winding roads.
She felt a movement against her leg, the dog trying valiantly to shift its heavy head into her lap, as if attempting to comfort her with its trusting forgiveness. She squirmed closer so that she could help him lift his grazed muzzle across her thigh.
In between croonings she speculated about his ownership, undeterred by Drake’s clipped responses.
‘I wonder who owns him. Do you know? A dog with three legs…he must be well-known in the neighbourhood—’
‘He certainly strays around—’
Kate was quick to cut him off. ‘He’s not a stray! Are you, boy?’ she soothed the dog. ‘He’s got a collar, but every time I try to twist it around to look for the tag, he cringes. He has to belong to someone. Someone who doesn’t look after you properly, eh, boy? I don’t think he can be fed very much, he’s always pestering me for titbits—’
‘If you bend over him in that purple bikini I can understand why.’
She met his eyes in the rear-vision mirror above the dash. ‘Drake! I’m being serious. He always seems to be ravenous.’
‘He’s obviously a hardened scrounger.’ His eyes flicked carelessly back to the road.
‘Don’t say that; he can hear you!’ said Kate, putting a hand over the dog’s ear. ‘I told you he has a collar. If his owner’s not caring properly for him he’s got no choice but to scavenge. He can’t very well hunt for himself with only three legs.’
‘He seems to have managed to track down your bleeding heart.’
She frowned at his apparent callousness. ‘His coat seems very messy,’ she said, picking out a burr. ‘He could do with a brush.’
He lifted his chin to bring the dog into his line of sight. ‘Probably been rolling in the dirt. He’s a mutt, not a show-pooch.’
‘I wonder if he’s ever groomed? Owners like that should be shot!’
‘I thought you were a proponent of non-violence?’ His narrowed eyes met hers for a brief challenge before swerving away again.
‘It’s just a turn of phrase,’ she said impatiently. ‘Pet owners have a responsibility.’
‘He’s more like a nuisance than a pet.’
Now she was truly shocked. ‘It’s not his fault. He shouldn’t be allowed to wander.’
‘Maybe he needs to roam.’
Kate gritted her teeth at his stubborn refusal to share her sensible concerns. How could she love such a hard-hearted man? And how could such a hard-hearted man ever make room in his petrified organ for the love of a child? She leaned across the dog’s head, her tee-shirt tickling its nose into a messy snuffle. ‘But it’s dangerous—’
‘This is the countryside; risks are assessed differently in remote areas,’ he said as she quickly leaned back again. ‘People here don’t keep their dogs penned up.’
