Robin smiled. “I think we’ll have to give up on the idea of you and me owning a farm, at least in the near future.”
When they were first married, Robin and Lenny had talked for hours about their dreams. They’d charted their lives, confident that nothing would ever separate them. Their love had been too strong. It was true that she’d never told Jeff about buying a farm, nor had she told him how they’d planned to name it Paradise. Paradise, because that was what the farm would be to them. In retrospect, not telling Jeff was a way of protecting him. He’d lost so much—not only the guidance and love of his father but all the things they could have had as a family. She’d never mentioned the pony before, or the fact that Lenny had always longed for a horse....
Jeff yawned loudly and Robin marvelled at his endurance. He’d carried in as many boxes as the movers had, racing up and down the stairs with an energy Robin envied. He’d unpacked the upstairs bathroom, as well as his own bedroom and had helped her organize the kitchen.
“I can hardly wait to get my dog,” Jeff said, his voice fading. Within minutes he was sound asleep.
“A dog,” Robin said softly as her eyes closed. She didn’t know how she was going to break the bad news to Jeff. They couldn’t get a dog—at least not right away. She was unwilling to leave a large dog locked indoors all day while she went off to work and Jeff was in school. Tying one up in the backyard was equally unfair, and she couldn’t afford to build a fence. Not this year, anyway. Then there was the cost of feeding a dog and paying the vet’s bills. With this new home, Robin’s budget was already stretched to the limit.
* * *
Robin awoke feeling chilled and warm at the same time. In the gray dawn, she glanced at her watch. Six-thirty. At some point during the night, the old sleeping bag that dated back to her high-school days had come unzipped and the cool morning air had chilled her arms and legs. Yet her back was warm and cozy. Jeff had probably snuggled up to her during the night. She sighed, determined to sleep for another half hour or so. With that idea in mind, she reached for a blanket to wrap around her shoulders and met with some resistance. She tugged and pulled, to no avail. It was then that she felt something wet and warm close to her neck. Her eyes shot open. Very slowly, she turned her head until she came eyeball to eyeball with a big black dog.
Robin gasped loudly and struggled into a sitting position, which was difficult with the sleeping bag and several blankets wrapped around her legs, imprisoning her.
“Where did you come from?” she demanded, edging away from the dog. The Labrador had eased himself between her and Jeff and made himself right at home. His head rested on his paws and he looked perfectly content, if a bit disgruntled about having his nap interrupted. He didn’t seem at all interested in vacating the premises.
Jeff rolled over and opened his eyes. Immediately he bolted upright. “Mom,” he cried excitedly. “You got me a dog!”
“No—he isn’t ours. I don’t know who he belongs to.”
“Me!” Jeff’s voice was triumphant. “He belongs to me.” His thin arms hugged the animal’s neck. “You really got me a dog! It was supposed to be a surprise, wasn’t it?”
“Jeff,” she said firmly. “I don’t know where this animal came from, but he isn’t ours.”
“He isn’t?” His voice sagged in disappointment. “But who owns him, then? And how did he get inside the tent with us?”
“Heavens, I don’t know.” Robin rubbed the sleep from her eyes while she attempted to put her garbled thoughts in order. “He looks too well fed and groomed to be a stray. He must belong to someone in the neighborhood. Maybe he—”
“Blackie!” As if in response, she was interrupted by a crisp male voice. “Blackie. Here, boy.”
The Labrador lifted his head, but stayed where he was. Robin didn’t blame him. Jeff was stroking his back with one hand and rubbing his ears with the other, all the while crooning to him softly.
With some effort, Robin managed to divest herself of the sleeping bag. She reached for her tennis shoes and crawled out of the tent. No sooner was she on her feet than she turned to find a lanky man standing a few yards from her, just on the other side of the three-foot hedge that separated the two properties. Obviously he was her neighbor. Robin smiled, but the friendly gesture was not returned. In fact, the man looked downright unfriendly.
Her neighbor was also an imposing man, at least six feet tall. Since Robin was only five-three, he towered head and shoulders above her. Instinctively, she stiffened her back, meeting his dark eyes. “Good morning,” she said coolly.
He barely glanced in her direction, and when he did, he dismissed her with little more than a nod. After a night on the ground, with her son and a dog for bedmates, Robin realized she wasn’t looking her best, but she resented the way his eyes flicked disinterestedly over her.
Robin usually gave people the benefit of the doubt, but toward this man, she felt an immediate antipathy. His face was completely emotionless, which lent him an intimidating air. He was clearly aware of that and used it to his advantage.
“Good morning,” she said again, clasping her hands tightly. She drew herself to her full height and raised her chin. “I believe your dog is in the tent with my son.”
Her news appeared to surprise him; his expression softened. Robin was struck by the change. When his face relaxed, he was actually a very attractive man. For the most part, Robin hardly noticed how good-looking a man was or wasn’t, but this time...she noticed. Perhaps because of the contrast with his forbidding demeanor of a moment before.
“Blackie knows better than to leave the yard. Here, boy!” He shouted for the Labrador again, this time including a sharp whistle loud enough to pierce Robin’s eardrums. The dog emerged from the tent and approached the hedge, slowly wagging his tail.
“Is that your dog?” Jeff asked, dashing out behind Blackie. “He’s great. How long have you had him?”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again,” the man said, ignoring Jeff’s question. Robin supposed his words were meant to be an apology. “He’s well trained—he’s never left my yard before. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Blackie wasn’t any bother,” Jeff hurried to explain, racing forward. “He crawled into the tent with us and made himself at home, which was all right with us, wasn’t it, Mom?”
“Sure,” Robin answered, flipping her shoulder-length auburn hair away from her face. She’d had it tied back when she’d gone to bed, but it had pulled free during the night. Robin could well imagine how it looked now. Most mornings it tended to resemble foam on a newly poured mug of beer.
“We’re friends, aren’t we, Blackie?” Jeff knelt, and without hesitation the dog came to him, eagerly licking his face.