The Moment of Truth

“It has sensor reheat,” she said. “Everything is in microwave-safe containers. Put it in on sensor reheat, push the button and wait. When it finishes, test it. You might have to run it through a second time since it’s frozen. When you’re finished, you can either keep the containers, or put them aside and I’ll pick them up when I’m here to see Little Guy.”

He nodded, and before she took a step he’d already pulled a container of casserole out of the freezer. Still holding the dog, he put the container into the microwave.

“Let me hold him.” Dana took the puppy. He licked her nose. “You have to loosen the lid,” she told Josh. “Unless you want pressure to build up and risk having your food explode all over the inside of your oven.”

“Right. I know.” He said the words and released the lid. Dana had the impression he had no idea whatsoever what he was doing.

“Do you have dog treats?” she asked, because she needed to know where they were so she didn’t end up snooping again—and finding something else she could do to push herself on this man.

“No. I gave him the last package this morning when I left.”

“You give him a whole package at a time?” She’d seen the stuff the clinic sent home with him. The packets of treats weren’t full-size, but they should have lasted a week.

“I felt bad leaving him locked up all day.”

Rubbing the warm spot under Little Guy’s chin she said, “He sleeps, Josh. Puppies are like babies, they need extra sleep. And while some say an adult dog only needs about ten and a half hours of sleep a day, it’s not uncommon for them to sleep fourteen or sixteen hours a day, sometimes more depending on activity level.”

He stared at the puppy, who was falling asleep, leaning into her chest. It felt as if he was staring at her breasts.

Her nipples tingled.

He turned away. “I’ll get more treats.”

“And give them to him one at a time,” she said. “It’ll help with training if you use them judiciously, as praise. Like when he goes to the bathroom outside. Or sits when you tell him to.”

“I don’t tell him to sit.”

“You will when he starts to get bigger and jumps up on you.”

He glanced at the puppy again. She wanted Josh to notice her breasts. She’d never been so aware of her body.

And felt awkward as hell. Lindsey and Rebecca, her half sisters, would both know what to do; they’d have Josh tripping over himself trying to get their attention. They’d double-team him, playing him like a Ping-Pong ball.

Just as they’d been doing with all the cute boys in their town since they hit high school.

“You want to stay for a bit?” he asked as she continued to stand there.

She should go. But she didn’t want to. He was watching her. Her. As though he actually saw her. And liked what he saw. “I’ll stay if you answer a question for me.”

“You want to know how I creamed you at cribbage three games in a row?”

No. She’d pretty much figured that her inability to concentrate on the game was the reason for her loss. She’d been too distracted by her opponent sitting close enough for her to feel his body heat and smell his musky cologne, to pay attention to the cards in her hand.

“I want to know how old you are.”

“Twenty-nine.”

Four years older than she was. “And how did you get to be twenty-nine without ever using a microwave?”

He froze. His hand was raised to the cupboard he’d opened to expose a complete set of very nice dishes. She counted three serving bowls, a platter large enough to hold a thirty-pound turkey and even a gravy boat.

“I’m an only child,” he said then, almost awkwardly. “My mother spoiled me.”

Dana’s heart went out to him at his obvious embarrassment. “One of those moms who wouldn’t let her son in the kitchen?” she asked.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“She give you your dishes, too?”

“Yeah.”

The microwave beeped. He tested the food and put the container back in the oven, pressing sensor reheat a second time.

“But you’re twenty-nine,” Dana said, hugging the puppy to her with his front paws on her shoulders and her hand bracing his bottom half. “Surely you haven’t lived at home all of your life.”

“No. But I traveled a lot with my job. And...paid for my meals.”

She was pushing him into a corner. Told herself to let it go.

“So—” just to be sure she got it “—you didn’t live with a woman, then? You weren’t...like...married, or anything?”

Her need to know was more pressing than any fear of making a fool of herself.