The New Girl In Town

“Rosie, down.”

He sat, panting happily beside her chair.

Zoe resisted the urge to scream, asking instead, in a carefully controlled voice, “Where is your master?”

The beast tilted his head, as if trying to understand the question, but—of course—made no response to it.

“Maybe you’re smarter than he is,” she said. “Do you understand the word by-law?”

The beast merely cocked his head from one side to the next.

“Or dog pound?”

He barked, but then he licked her hand, clearly proving his ignorance.

“How about leash?” she asked in a deliberately friendly tone.

The beast dropped to his belly on the porch, covered his ears with his paws and whimpered.

Zoe exhaled a frustrated breath and untangled her legs. She set the now half-empty cup of tea on the arm of the chair and stood up. “Let’s go,” she said.

Rosie danced in ecstatic circles around her, nearly tripping her on the stairs.

It was the start of the ninth inning in a tie game when Mason heard knocking. He scowled at the door, his eyes still glued to the television. It was early in the season, but his commitment to his Yankees was resolute. Unfortunately, so was the pounding.

He swore under his breath as he pushed himself off the couch. The lead-off batter singled to right field and Mason pulled open the door. The sight of the woman on the other side was so unexpected—and so unexpectedly appealing in a pair of yoga-style pants that sat low on her hips and a skimpy white tank top—he actually forgot about the ballgame playing out on the fifty-two-inch screen behind him.

“This beast is a menace,” Zoe said tightly.

He winced and glanced at the animal sitting obediently at her side. “What did he do now?”

“What did he do?” she echoed indignantly. “Look at me.”

He took her words as an invitation, allowing his eyes to move over her—from the slightly lopsided ponytail on top of her head to the pink-painted toenails on her feet—lingering momentarily at some of the more interesting places in between.

“This—” she gestured to the stain on the front of her shirt that he’d thought was a flower “—was a cup of very hot tea.”

“It’s…pink.”

Her cheeks seemed to take on the same color.

“It’s herbal tea,” she said. “Raspberry. But that’s not the point.”

“Of course not,” he agreed solemnly.

Her eyes narrowed. “The point is that you were going to keep him on a leash.”

Rosie tucked her paws over her ears and whimpered.

Zoe rolled her eyes in disbelief. “You’ve obviously taught him to react whenever he hears that word. Why can’t you teach him to stay off my property?”

“I think he has a crush on you.”

She sent him a look of patent disbelief.

“I’m not kidding,” he told her. “He’s never wandered away from the backyard without me before.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true. And I really am sorry about—” his gaze fell to the pink stain on the front of her shirt and the tempting feminine curves beneath it “—your tea.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m hopeful it will wash out.”

“Then will we be forgiven?”

“Maybe the dog,” she said. “Not you. You should know better than to let him roam free.”

He scratched the top of Rosie’s head. “He’s just very affectionate.”

“His affection is wreaking havoc on my wardrobe.”

“You’re welcome to come over anytime to use my washer and dryer, if you want.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But I’ll stick with The Laundry Basket.”

“That’s right,” he said. “You don’t like to be on top of your neighbors.”

Her eyes narrowed on him.

He grinned. “Or was it that you didn’t like your neighbors on top?”

“Maybe it’s just some neighbors in particular that I have a problem with.”

“You’ll get over it,” he said confidently. “Pinehurst is too small a town to hold a grudge against anyone for long.”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” she told him.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think I’m going to enjoy getting to know you, Zoe Kozlowski.”

“Maybe another time,” she said. “Right now, I want to get home. I have a ton of things to do in the morning.”

“Wait,” he said, as she turned away.

She hesitated with obvious reluctance.

“Let me walk you back.”

“I don’t need an escort.”