The Obsession(51)

She got him through the waiting room—empty, as she’d arranged to be the first surgery or appointment of any kind of the day.

“Hey, boy.” Alice greeted him with a good rub, relaxed him so he leaned on her. “We’ll take him from here. The procedure’s routine—sometimes a little tougher on a grown dog, but still routine. We’ll keep him a few hours after, to make sure everything’s good.”

“Okay. I’ll come get him when you call.” She gave the dog a pat on the head. “Good luck.”

When she turned to go he howled—long and mournful, as he’d done a few times when he heard a siren. She glanced back, saw his blue eyes full of sorrow and fear.

“Shit. Just shit.”

“Just let him know you’re coming back,” Alice advised. “You’re his alpha.”

“Shit,” she said again, and walked back to crouch in front of the dog. “I’m coming back to get you, okay?” She took his head in her hands, felt herself battered with the love his gaze sent out. “Okay, all right. I’m coming back to get you, take you home. You just have to do this first. I’ll go—hell—I’ll go buy you some good dog-sans-balls presents.”

The dog licked her cheek, laid his head on her shoulder.

“He’d hug you if he could,” Alice commented.

Sunk, Naomi hugged him instead. “I’ll be back.”

He whined when she rose, cried when she started out.

“He’ll be fine,” Alice called after her.

And the heart Naomi hadn’t wanted to give away broke a little when she heard the dog howl.

She bought him a little stuffed cat, a ball that squeaked—telling herself she’d regret both purchases. She added a sturdy tug rope, a dog brush.

She made herself go home, made herself work. And when she couldn’t concentrate for more than ten minutes, she put on her paint clothes. She didn’t have to be creative to paint a room.

While she primed the walls, she imagined furnishing it. Maybe a sleigh bed, maybe dark gray. Mason would like it when he came to visit her. Or maybe old and iron—gray again. Gray would work with the green tones she’d paint in here.

Why didn’t Alice call?

Annoyed with herself, she broke one of her unwritten rules about poking into whatever the crew was doing unless it was for pictures, and went downstairs.

They’d primed the living room—mostly because she couldn’t quite decide what color she wanted there. The fireplace mantel needed refinishing, and made her think of Jenny. If Jenny did a decent job on the desk, she could do the mantel.

She wandered the space, looked out windows at the views. She wasn’t ready to throw in the towel and hire a landscaper, but most of the outside rehab just had to wait until the bulk of the work was done inside, and men—and women—weren’t tromping all over the place.

She moved on, stopped at the odd jut of a room she’d decided could be a little library. Maybe she didn’t often find or take the time to curl up with an actual book, but she’d imagined doing so there on a rainy day—or in the dead of winter with the fire sparking.

Now Kevin and the buxom Macie set the first of the flanking built-ins in place to the right of the hearth.

“Oh, Kevin.”

He glanced back, grinned as he shoved up the bill of his cap. “Go ahead and say it. You were right; I was wrong.”

“I didn’t know you’d finished them.”

“We figured we’d surprise you. You were right. I didn’t see it, little room like this. Take out that wall, I told you, and you’d have some space. But you stuck, and you had the eye. What you’ve got is cozy, and good light, and—what do you say, Macie?”

“Charm. It’s gonna have charm, especially when we put up the crown molding.”

“It’s beautiful wood—the cherry—and beautiful work.”

“That’s what we do, right, Mace?”

“Damn right.”

“You were right about straight open, floor to ceiling, too. Gives it dimension, makes the room seem bigger.”

“I’m going to have to send for my books. I usually read on my tablet, but I’ve got a couple boxes of books back home.”

“If you need more you can tap Xander.”

“Why?”

“He’s got books everywhere,” Macie told her.

“Oh yeah.” Kevin took a small level out of his tool belt, laid it on a shelf. “Every now and then he’ll box some up, donate them, but mostly he hoards them. If you need to fill some of these shelves, you should tap him about it.”

“I’ll see what—” She jumped when her phone signaled, snatched it out of her pocket. “It’s the vet. Yes, this is Naomi. Okay. Okay. Really?” As relief washed over her like a warm wave, she rubbed her hand over her face. “That’s great. I’ll come now. No, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Thanks.”

Blowing out a breath, she shoved the phone away again. “The dog—he’s out of recovery or whatever. Ready to come home. I’ll be back.”

“Oh, in case I don’t see you—you made the papers.”

“The what?” She stopped dead.

“The papers,” Kevin repeated. “I got a copy in the kitchen.”