Abby and the Bachelor Cop / Misty and the Single Dad: Abby and the Bachelor Copy / Misty and the Single Dad

‘He is. His name’s Kleppy. He’s lovely but I’ve only had him for a day so he’s not exactly well trained. But he will be.’ Just as soon as she installed fences down to bedrock.

‘Has this man foisted him onto you?’ Her glare at Raff was poisonous.

‘No.’ Not exactly. Or actually … yes. But that was what the woman was expecting her to say, she thought. Raff Finn—town’s bad boy. One of those Finns.

Capable of anything.

Which was what she thought, too, she reminded herself, so why was she standing here figuring out how to defend him?

‘He didn’t foist …’ she started.

‘Yes, I did,’ Raff said before she could get any further. ‘Have you forgotten already? I definitely foisted. And that’s exactly what you’d expect of someone like me, isn’t it, Mrs Fryer? And here I am, messing up your front garden. But it’s okay. Your dog’s been restored. Justice has been done so I can step out of your life again. If you’ll excuse me … Abby, when Mrs Fryer’s given you a nice cup of tea so you can both recover from your

Very Nasty Experience, could you walk back to court yourself, do you think?’

I …’ She stared at him, speechless. He gave her his very blandest smile.

‘I bet Louise wants to hear all about the wedding preparations. She’ll be invited, though, won’t she?’

‘Yes,’ Louise said, a bit confused but mostly belligerent. Her dislike for Raff was unmistakable. ‘Of course I am. I’m a friend of dear Philip’s mother.’

‘There you are; you’re practically family.’ Raff’s gaze met hers and there was laughter behind his eyes—pure trouble. ‘All it takes for you to be friends for life is for your two dogs to bond, which they’re doing already. Me, I have other stuff to do. Murderers and rapists to chase.’

‘Or the police station lawn to mow,’ Abby snapped and then wished she hadn’t.

‘I was just saying that to Philip’s mother the other night,’ Louise said. ‘Old Sergeant Troy used to keep the Station really nice.’

‘Yeah, but he wasn’t a Finn,’ Raff said. ‘The place has gone to hell in a handbasket since I arrived. Did you think of the lawn yourself, Abigail, or did Philip mention it? A tidy man, our Philip. But enough. Murderers, rapists—and lawn!’ He sighed. ‘A policeman’s lot is indeed a tough one. See you ladies later. Have a nice cup of tea.’

He turned and walked away. Louise put her hand on Abby’s arm, holding her back.

The toad. Raff Finn knew she wouldn’t be able to get away from here for an hour.

‘Make sure you plant some petunias when you’re finished,’ Abby called after him. ‘It’d be a pity if we saw our police force bored.’

‘Petunias it is,’ he said and gave her an airy wave. ‘Consider them planted. In between thefts. How long till the next snatch and grab?’ He shook his head. ‘Keep off the streets, Abigail, and keep a tight hold on that felon of yours. Next time, I might have to put you up for a community corrections order. The pair of you might find yourself planting my petunias for me.’

CHAPTER SIX

ABBY didn’t go back to court. Philip phoned to find out where she was and she decided she had a headache. She did have a headache. Her headache was wagging his tail and watching as she dog-proofed her fence.

According to the Internet, to stop foxes digging into a poultry pen you had to run wire netting underground from the fence, but flattening outward and forward, surfacing about eighteen inches from the fence. The fox would then find itself digging into a U-shaped wire cavity.

That meant a lot of digging. Would it work when Kleppy The Fox was sitting there watching?

‘Don’t even think about it,’ she told him. ‘Philip’s being very good. We can’t expect his patience to last for ever.’

Philip.

She was expecting him to explode. He didn’t.

He arrived to see how she was just after she’d finished cleaning up after fence digging. They were supposed to be going out to dinner. Two of Philip’s most affluent clients had invited them out to Banksia Bay’s most prestigious restaurant as a pre-wedding celebration.

When Abby thought of it her headache was suddenly real—and, surprisingly, she didn’t need to explain it to Philip.

‘You look dreadful,’ he said, hugging her with real sympathy. ‘White as a sheet. You should be in bed.’

‘I … yes.’ Bed sounded a good idea.

‘Where’s the mutt?’

‘Outside.’ Actually, on her bed, hoping she’d join him.

‘You can’t keep him,’ Philip said seriously. ‘He’s trouble.’

‘This morning wasn’t his fault.’

‘You don’t need to tell me that,’ Philip said darkly. ‘The dog might be trouble but Finn’s worse. It’s my belief he set the whole thing up. Look, Abby, the best thing would just be for you to take the dog back to the Animal Shelter.’

‘No.’

He sighed but he held his temper.

‘We’ll talk about it when you’re feeling better. I’m sorry you can’t make tonight.’

‘Will you cancel?’

‘No,’ he said, surprised. ‘They’ll understand.’

Of course they would. They’d hardly notice her absence, she thought bitterly. They’d talk about their property portfolios all night. Make some more money.

‘What will you eat?’ he asked, solicitous, and she thought she wouldn’t have to eat five courses and five different wines. Headaches had their uses.

‘I’ll make eggs on toast if I get hungry.’

‘Well, keep up your strength. You have a big week ahead of you.’

He kissed her and he was off, happily going to a wedding celebration without her.

The moment the door shut behind him, her headache disappeared. Just like that.

Why was she marrying him?

Uh-oh.

The question had been hovering for months. Niggling. Shoved away with disbelief that she could think it. But, the closer the wedding grew, the bigger the question grew. Now it was the elephant in the room. Or the Tyrannosaurus Rex. What was the world’s biggest dinosaur?

Whatever. The question was getting very large indeed. And very insistent.