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

‘He almost makes up for our Ben,’ her mother said over and over, and their engagement had been a foregone conclusion that made everyone happy.

Except … Except …

Don’t go there.

She generally didn’t. It was only in the small hours when she woke and thought of Philip’s dry kisses, and thought why don’t I feel … why don’t I feel …?

Like she did when she looked at Rafferty Finn?

No. This was pre-wedding nerves. She had no business thinking like that. If she so much as looked at Raff in that way it’d break her parents’ hearts.

So no and no and no.

Raff was on the stand now, steady and sure, giving his evidence with solid backup. His investigation stretched over years, with so many pointers …

But all of those pointers were circumstantial.

She suspected there were things in Philip’s briefcase that might not be circumstantial.

Um … don’t go there. There was such a thing as lawyer-client confidentiality. Even if Baxter admitted dishonesty to them outright—which he hadn’t—they couldn’t use it against him.

So Raff didn’t have the answers to Philip’s questions. The

Crown Prosecutor didn’t ask the right questions of Baxter. It’d take a few days, maybe more, but even by lunch time no one doubted the outcome.

At twelve the court rose. The courtroom emptied.

‘You might like to go home and get another jacket,’ Philip said. ‘I’m taking Wallace to lunch.’

She wasn’t up to explaining about Kleppy right now. Where to start? But she surely didn’t want to have lunch with Wallace. Acting for the guy made her feel dirty.

‘Go ahead,’ she said.

Philip left, escorting a smug Wallace. She felt an almost irresistible urge to talk to the Crown Prosecutor, tell him to push harder.

It was only suspicion. She had no proof.

‘Thanks for taking Kleppy.’ Raff was right behind her, and made her jump. Her heart did the same stupid skittering thing it had done for years whenever she heard his voice. She turned to face him and he was smiling at her, looking rueful. ‘Sorry, Abby. That was a hard thing to ask you to do this morning, but I had no choice.’

Putting Kleppy down. A hard thing …

‘It was too hard,’ she whispered. The Crown Prosecutor was leaving for lunch. If she wanted to talk to him …

She was lawyer for the defence. What was she thinking?

‘Hey, but you’re tough.’ Raff motioned to the back of the courtroom, where Bert and Gwen Mackervale were shuffling out to find somewhere to eat their packed sandwiches. ‘Not like the Mackervales. They’re as soft a touch as any I’ve seen. They lost their house, yet you’ll get Wallace off.’

‘Raff, this is inappropriate. I’m a defence lawyer. You know it’s what I do.’

‘You don’t have to. You’re better than this, Abby.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Yeah, well …’ He shrugged. ‘I’m going to find me a hamburger. See you later.’

Uh-oh. Maybe she shouldn’t have snapped. Definitely she shouldn’t have snapped. Not when there was such a big favour to ask.

How to ask?

Just ask.

‘You couldn’t cope with another dog, could you?’ she managed and he stilled.

‘Another …’

‘I couldn’t,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t. He’s still alive. Raff, he … he looked at me.’

‘He looked at you.’ Raff was looking at her as if she’d just landed from Mars.

‘I couldn’t get him put down.’

Raff was carrying papers. He placed them on the nearest bench without breaking his gaze. He stared at her for a full minute.

She didn’t stare back. She stared at her shoes instead. They were nice black shoes. Maybe a bit high. Pert, she thought. Pert was good.

There was a smudge on one toe. She considered bending to wipe it and decided against it.

Still silence.

‘You’re keeping Kleppy?’ he said at last.

She shook her head. ‘I’m … I don’t think it’s possible. I’m asking if you could take him. Fred says you have a menagerie. One more wouldn’t … wouldn’t be much more trouble. I could pay you for his keep.’

‘Fred suggested …’ He sounded flabbergasted.

‘He didn’t,’ she admitted. ‘I thought of it myself.’

‘That I’d take Kleppy?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered and she thought that she sounded about eight years old again. She sounded pathetic.

‘No,’ he said.

She looked up at him then. Raff Finn was a good six inches taller than she was. More. He was a bit too big. He was a bit too male. He was a bit too … Raff?

He was also a bit too angry.

‘N … No?’