Christmas Eve at Friday Harbor (Friday Harbor #1)(35)

“Yes, but he doesn’t know it. He thinks he’s gorgeous.”

Holly chuckled, and leaned forward to pet him tentatively.

Sighing, Renfield rested his huge head against her and closed his eyes in contentment.

“He loves attention,” Maggie told Holly, who began to croon and baby-talk to the adoring bulldog. Maggie grinned and kissed Holly’s head. “I have to go now. Thanks for babysitting him today, Holly. When I come back to pick him up later, I’ll bring you a surprise from the toy shop.”

Mark watched from the doorway, his gaze warm and thoughtful. “Want some breakfast?” he asked. “We’ve got eggs and toast.”

“Thanks, but I already had cereal.”

“Have some Jell-O,” Holly exclaimed. “Uncle Mark made three colors. He gave me some and said it was a bowl of rainbow.”

“Really?” Maggie gave Mark a wondering smile. “It’s nice to hear that your uncle uses his imagination.”

“You have no idea,” Mark said. He walked Maggie to the front door and gave her the tall thermos filled with coffee. Maggie was troubled by the cozy domestic feeling that had swept over her. The dog, the child, the man in a flannel shirt, even the house, a Victorian fixer-upper…it was all perfect.

“It doesn’t seem like a fair trade,” she said. “Special coffee, for a day with Renfield.”

“If it means I get to see you twice in one day,” Mark replied, “I’ll take that deal any time.”

Eleven

In the two weeks that followed, Maggie found herself seeing more and more of Mark Nolan. To her relief, it seemed that he had accepted that she was only interested in friendship. He frequently dropped by the toy shop with the thermos of coffee, and he also brought treats from a local bakery: crisp chocolate croissants, apricot pinwheels, sugared pastry sticks in white paper sacks. Now and then he coaxed Maggie to have lunch with him, once at Market Chef, and another time at a wine bar, where they lingered until Maggie realized that nearly two hours had gone by.

She was never able to turn down his invitations because she couldn’t point to one instance in which Mark had put a move on her. In fact, he had done everything possible to allay Maggie’s worries. There were no kisses or suggestive comments, nothing that indicated that he was interested in anything beyond friendship.

Mark had gone to Seattle to break up with Shelby, who had apparently taken it as well as could have been expected. When he told Maggie about it afterward, he didn’t go into detail, but his relief was obvious. “No tears, screaming, or drama,” he said. After a perfectly timed pause, he added, “Not from Shelby, either.”

“You’re still in the backslide window,” Maggie said. “There’s still a chance you may get back together with her.”

“There’s no backslide window.”

“You never know. Have you already deleted her number from your phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you returned all the things she left at your house?”

“She never got the chance to leave anything. Sam and I have a rule: no sleepover guests while Holly’s in the house.”

“So when Shelby visited you on the island, where did you and she…”

“We stayed at a bed-and-breakfast.”

“Well,” she said, “I guess it really is over. Are you sure you’re not in denial? It’s normal to feel sad when you’ve lost something.”

“Nothing was lost. I’ve never thought of a failed relationship as a waste of time. You always learn something.”

“What did you learn from Shelby?” Maggie asked, fascinated.

Mark pondered the question carefully. “For a while I thought it was good that we never argued. Now I realize it meant we weren’t really connecting.”

Holly soon asked for another day with Renfield, and Maggie brought him to Rainshadow Vineyard again. As they approached the house, Maggie saw that a small removable ramp had been set over part of the front steps. The top-heavy dog padded up the ramp, finding it much easier than trying to navigate the tall, narrow steps. “Is that for Renfield’s benefit?” Maggie asked as Mark opened the door.

“The ramp? Yes. Did it work?”

“Perfectly.” She smiled appreciatively, realizing that Mark had noticed the dog’s previous difficulty with the steps, and had come up with a way to make it easier for him to go in and out of the house.

“You still trying to find a home for him?” Mark asked, holding the door as they entered the house. He bent to pet and scratch Renfield, who looked up at him with the grin of a medieval gargoyle, tongue dangling.

“Yes, but we’re not having much luck,” Maggie said. “He’s got too many problems. He’s probably going to need a hip replacement at some point, and there’s his underbite, and his eczema. It’s one thing to be high maintenance and cute, but high maintenance and looking like Renfield…no takers.”

“Actually, if it’s okay with you,” Mark said slowly, “we’d like to keep him.”

Maggie was stunned. “You mean on a permanent basis?”

“Yes. Why do you look so surprised?”

“He’s not your type of dog.”

“What’s my type of dog?”