“Not usually, but things can get a bit hairy at Inkululeko. When people live in appalling conditions, it’s hard for them to take proper care of their pets. Even though they try their best with the resources they have. That’s why the clinic is so vital to their community.”
“Isn’t it dangerous? There’s a lot of crime in that area.” The thought had occurred to him before, but since he had properly gotten to know her, the idea of her placing herself in danger truly pissed him off. And quite honestly, scared the bejesus out of him.
“The community is so grateful for the service we provide that they serve as our protection. And we’ve even had a few of the shadier types bring their dogs in for medication and treatment. We’ve been treated with nothing but respect.”
“There are always those who want to ruin things for others,” Mason pointed out, keeping his voice mild even though he was desperate to urge her to beef up security for her clinic. Even one guard. Mason could organize it. Still, he knew that he didn’t have a right to be concerned over her safety, and he for damned sure had no say in how she ran her clinic or where she conducted it.
“It’s fine. We have ample protection. The clinic is very busy, and there are always people about. Perfectly safe.”
Mason kept his own counsel but wondered how soon he could arrange a visit to the clinic and assess the situation himself.
“Anyway, I think the food’s about done. I’ve already set the table, so if you’d like to wander into the living area and have a seat, I’ll bring everything out.”
“Nonsense, I’ll help,” she dismissed. She glanced around for the dogs and couldn’t spot either of them. They were both terribly quiet, so at least they hadn’t killed each other.
“Where are the pooches?” she asked, and Mason cast a disconcerted look down at the floor.
“No idea,” he responded. He went to the doorway and looked into the living room and then chuckled quietly before waving Daisy over to come and see. She hopped off the barstool and tried to squeeze into the doorway next to Mason, and he took hold of her elbow and tucked her against his side so that the top of her head was nestled beneath his armpit. She tried to ignore his heat and his gorgeous scent while looking to where he was pointing. Peaches had claimed Cooper’s huge dog bed. The small dog was sleeping soundly, curled up into a tiny, fluffy ball while poor Cooper sat on the carpet, about six feet away. He was staring at Peaches with his head cocked and his adorable face rumpled into that concerned, baffled expression that only retrievers seemed able to achieve.
“Oh, poor baby. That hardly seems fair, I’ll get my bossy little diva out of there before the situation deteriorates.”
“He won’t hurt her,” Mason whispered, his breath ruffling the hair above her ear. “He’s just trying to figure her out. In the meantime, he’ll let her walk all over him until he knows how to deal with the situation.”
“But it’s his house, and Peaches has just taken over.”
“Women.” Mason chuckled, and she slanted him a glance.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” He just grinned and cheekily stole another one of those unexpected kisses from her.
“Grab the wine while I bring out the food.” Still reeling a little from the kiss, Daisy was a little slow on the uptake until he stepped away to put a bottle in her hands and then put his hands on her shoulders to physically turn her until she was facing the kitchen door again.
“Off you go,” he said before swatting her lightly on her butt. She gasped and nearly dropped the bottle in surprise. Another unrepentant grin before he headed for one of the cabinets to remove a few serving bowls.
“Oh my God, that was so good,” Daisy moaned later. “I can’t believe I finished all of it. Between this and all that bread at Chris’s yesterday, I’m never going to fit into that stupid bridesmaid’s dress.”
She stared down at her empty plate in dismay; every last bit of curry sauce had been wiped up with the buttery homemade roti, which had been served as an accompaniment to the saucy lamb vindaloo.
“Glad you enjoyed it.” Mason smiled at her over the rim of his wineglass.
“Where did you learn to cook like that?”
“A woman I dated, Vashti. This is her recipe.”
“Oh?” Daisy tried to keep her voice casual but failed miserably. “How long were you with her?”
“A year or so. She wanted more, and I didn’t have any more to give.” He twirled the wine stem between his thumb and forefinger, a thoughtful look on his face.
“I see.”
“Do you?” he asked, a cynical tilt to his mouth. “Women always say they understand, but they never truly do. So what do you see, Daisy?”