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“My dad wouldn’t let us. I always liked animals.”
“Then why didn’t you get one on your own?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t do a lot of things I could have done.” He glances back at the dog, who has lowered his head and is snoring blissfully. “He’s not a bad dog. He didn’t try to bite me even when he thought I was a threat. He’s smart, and he’s clearly bonded with you. We might want to get him some training.”
“Of course.”
“I’ve called around to some local vets and shelters, and no one knows of a missing dog that matches his description, so it looks like he’s a real stray. We’ll have to take him to the vet soon to get examined, and he’ll have to be put on heartworm prevention and flea control.”
I raise a hand to cover my mouth. “So we can keep him?”
He looks at me for a little longer than I’d expect before he answers. “Yes. We can keep him. But he doesn’t get to make a home in my bed.”
With another giggle—as much relief as amusement—I reach over to nudge the dog off the bed. He gives an indignant huff and flops down on the area rug instead.
There’s a big wet spot now in the middle of Arthur’s duvet.
Before I can apologize, he pulls off the duvet and starts stripping the cover off.
I stare at him in surprise. Not that he’d want to change his bedding but that he’d do it himself instead of letting Stella do it.
“Stella is busy in the kitchen,” Arthur says, clearly reading my mind. “No need to bother her when I can do it myself.” He leans over to pull a clean duvet cover out of a leather storage bench under one of the windows.
“Oh. Of course. I just didn’t...”
His lips tighten slightly. “You didn’t what? Think I was capable of making a bed?”
“No. No, of course that’s not it.”
He waits for me to continue, but I have no idea what to say.
“You assumed I wouldn’t let you keep a dog. You assumed I wouldn’t make my own bed. What else have you been assuming about me that I should know?”
My cheeks flush hot. “I’m sorry. I just don’t...” I clear my throat. “I know we got to know each other, but I don’t remember it. So I’m left mostly with the impressions of you I had before I came here. But you’re right. You’ve been nothing but thoughtful and generous with me, and I have no reason to expect you not to continue to be so.”
He gives that slight nod of acknowledgment. “So you’ve been feeding the dog for days, I assume? Was it Tuesday you found him?”
“Yeah. In the afternoon. How did you know?”
“Because that’s when you started acting secretive. I knew you were keeping something from me. You were distracted. And you’d disappear for hours. I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on, and you wouldn’t tell me.” His expression reflects the frustration he must have felt.
“What trouble could I have gotten into here? Did you think I was running off to meet a secret lover or something?”
There’s a brief flicker on his face that makes me realize my flippant, teasing words might actually be true.
I gasp. “You thought that? Seriously? Where on earth would I have met a lover to be secret about?”
“I had no idea. But something was going on with you, and I needed to know what it was. I wasn’t really spying on you. I hope you don’t think your privacy was invaded too much. But I did follow you this afternoon so I could see what you were doing.” He looks almost sheepish but not particularly sorry.
I don’t have it in me to be angry with him at the moment. “Next time just ask.”
“I did ask. You said you were taking a walk and wanted to be alone.”
“Oh. Well. Yeah.”
He’s almost smiling now. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t think you’d want a dog.”
