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“But you just moved to this house.”
“I had this table next to this chair in my last house.”
“How do you know they wouldn’t have won anyway?”
For a moment it seemed like he was not going to answer, but then he turned to her, an eyebrow lifted. “Because twice when they were behind on their way to losing, I put my cup there, and suddenly, like magic, they came from behind to win.”
“You can’t be serious.” Her hand covered her mouth, holding back a laugh.
He looked embarrassed, but said, “Some things are not meant to be explained.”
“Somehow I didn’t picture you as the mystical type. Or should I say superstitious.”
“I’m not.”
“In that case…” She went for the mug and he grabbed her wrist to stop her.
The heat and strength of his hand on her arm woke up her female core in a way that was off limits here. Their eyes met and something Blake could not put a name to passed between them. Something way too sexy.
Fortunately, Ciara came hopping down the stairs, breaking the spell he seemed to have on her. “I made up my mind, Daddy!”
* * *
The next morningBlake called Dr. Bridget Larsen, the veterinarian who ran the North Cove Animal Hospital and Shelter, and asked for advice on choosing a dog for a nine-year-old. Morgan had agreed that they could go there today to get a dog when Blake picked up Ciara after school.
And here they were, strolling down the long row of cages, looking at each furry canine. Blake was glad the shelter worker helping them was not the woman who had seen her bawling her eyes out the last time she was here. Today, she was in total adult mode.
At one point, Dr. Larsen came out to say hello. She was a slightly chubby, freckle-cheeked redhead that had the sweetest face. “I know your sister-in-law, Marni,” she said to Blake, “because she helps run our anti-cruelty program in the public schools.”
Harper’s wife taught second grade. Blake smiled and introduced Ciara, who had a few hundred questions for Dr. Larsen about being a veterinarian, and Bridget answered each one patiently.
“I heard you took care of Big Boy after he was caught in that fire,” Ciara said.
“I did,” Bridget said, “but the truth is it was Harper who saved his life.”
“What is that sad cry?” Ciara asked, her concerned expression so sweet, and Blake noticed a plaintive mewing coming from the cat aisle.
She followed Ciara around the corner to where the cats were held. The girl immediately found the sad little black and white kitten crying in a way that was heart wrenching.
“Look, that lady cat in the next cage hears her and I bet she wants to comfort her,” Ciara said. “Can we put her in with the kitten?”
Blake turned to Bridget, her eyebrows lifted in question. Maybe the cat in the next cage was a male, and they did not always treat kittens kindly.
Bridget tilted her head a moment, then said, “Okay, let’s try it.” She took the large smoky gray cat out and moved it to the cage with the kitten. Blake was nervous, but the doctor was watching the action carefully now, looking ready to intervene if necessary. She knew Dr. Larsen took great care of the shelter animals, checking all the intakes for diseases and giving them shots.
Turned out Ciara was right. The kitten rubbed against the big gray cat—who had only one eye—and the older cat began washing the kitten, who now quieted down.
They all smiled and the doctor said to Ciara, “That was very observant. And kind. I’ll bet you would make a very good vet.”
Ciara glowed at her praise.
Dr. Larsen went back to her exam room for her next appointment, telling them she would send a shelter volunteer back to help them.
Ciara and Blake stood by the cage watching the older cat and the kitten. Both felines had clearly seen some hard times.
Then Ciara spoke so softly that Blake was not sure if she was talking to herself when she said, “It doesn’t matter if it’s not her real mother.”
Ciara’s words struck Blake deep in her core with their innocent wisdom, challenging the secret pain Blake had carried for so long.
