Angel's Rest(14)

“Ah … I take it he’s found his way home?”

Nic gave Gabe Callahan a sidelong look and responded, “In a manner of speaking. He’s here with me now. What happened?”

“Well, we were outside enjoying the sunshine when Archibald walked over, climbed up on my lap, licked my face, then trotted off. He obviously had somewhere to go, so I wasn’t worried about him.”

“Archibald?” Nic repeated, not certain she and Celeste were on the same wavelength. “We’re talking about the boxer, right?”

“Yes, well, he needs a name, and that seemed to fit.”

In what universe, Nic couldn’t guess. “What time was this?”

“Oh, this morning sometime.”

“And you weren’t concerned when he didn’t come back?”

“No, dear. Archibald is a sweetheart of a dog, but I’m not meant to be his companion. He and I both know that. We had quite a talk about it.”

Nic decided then and there that it was time to take Celeste into Gunnison for a thorough medical checkup. She wasn’t a dotty-old-dear type at all. Concerned, Nic asked, “Are you feeling all right, Celeste? Any unusual aches or pains?”

“I’m fine, dear. In fact, I’m just about to take a quick spin on my Honda. It’s a beautiful evening, and this time of year, each one we have is a heavenly gift. You should make a point of enjoying yourself, too. I recall that this is a difficult day for you.”

“Yes, well …” Nic glanced toward Gabe and saw that he was perusing the offerings on her bookshelves. The boxer hadn’t budged from his position in front of the fire. “Maybe Archibald will help me pass the time. Drive safely, Celeste. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

She ended the call and joined her visitors in the library. Gabe arched a brow her way and repeated, “Archibald? That’s worse than Tiger.”

“What have you been calling him?”

Gabe glanced down at the dog and shook his head. “I don’t name things I don’t intend to keep.”

She spared him a scolding look before turning her attention to the dog. Since he didn’t seem interested in coming to her, she crossed the room and knelt beside him. “All right, Tiger. Let’s give you a quick once-over to see how you fared on today’s trek. Hmm … no new scratches or scrapes that I can tell. And, actually, these stitches can come out. How about it, handsome? You ready to ditch the collar?”

As she unfastened the Elizabethan collar’s plastic tabs, she glanced up at Gabe. “I have a yellow canvas bag hanging on a chair in the kitchen. Would you grab it for me, please? It’s the room at the far end of the entry hall.”

“Sure.” When he handed the bag over a few moments later, he said, “I see why you wanted to keep the dog out of the kitchen. Something smells awfully tempting.”

“It’s my specialty. Pistachio-and-pine-nut-crusted rack of venison with wild mushrooms.” As she removed the stitches from the boxer’s leg, she said, “Why don’t you stay and share my supper, Mr. Callahan? I have plenty, and everything is ready.”

He glanced toward the table set for two. “Oh … uh … thanks, but I don’t think so.”

“Why not? You have to eat, and it’s not like I’m trying to date you, either.”

His stare shifted toward the kitchen, and she thought she saw a flash of regret in his eyes before he shook his head. “I thought I’d drop by the Bristlecone Café. I’ve heard the food is excellent.”

“It’s wonderful and you definitely need to try it, but it won’t be tonight. It’s Tuesday. The Bristlecone is closed on Tuesdays.”

“Oh, well …”

His obvious reluctance began to annoy her. “Are you a vegetarian? Don’t care for game? If that’s it, you really should try my venison. I promise you’ll change your mind.”

“Dr. Sullivan—”

“Nic.”

“I’m Gabe. I appreciate the invitation. Your venison sounds and smells delicious, but I’m not much company.”

“All right. What’s a little more humiliation?” She folded her arms and sighed. “Here’s the deal, Gabe. I know I’m being pushy. It’s an unfortunate tendency of mine. But the fact is that I really, really don’t want to be alone tonight. See, today is … was … my wedding anniversary. Would have been six years today if the man I married wasn’t a lying, cheating snake. Last year on this date I swore I wouldn’t spend this year wallowing in another self-indulgent pity party. If you leave me now, I’m liable to do just that. Besides, the way I figure it, you owe me. I saved your life, remember? You said yourself that I was a lifesaver. All I’m asking for in return is for you to sit down and make small talk with me while we share a gourmet meal and a really fine bottle of wine.”