“Good idea.” She took the ice pack he offered next.

Conor and Kirra followed her into the bedroom. A king-size platform bed took center stage. Folding back the ice-blue comforter, she climbed between the hotel-white sheets with a low groan and settled the ice pack on her jaw. Kirra jumped onto the bed and curled up with her head on Louisa’s hip. “She hasn’t left my side since I got home.”

“Dogs know.”

“Know what?”

“They know when something’s wrong.”

“I’ve never had a pet.” She stroked the dog’s head. “It’s nice.”

“So I guess you’re still considering keeping her?”

“I couldn’t do that. She’s your dog.”

“Doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing,” Conor said as Kirra closed her eyes and heaved a contented sigh. “Besides, she’s not safe in my apartment.”

Louisa sat up, wincing. “Jackson said he was with you tonight. What happened?”

“Someone broke in tonight and busted up the place.”

The ice pack dropped from her face. “That’s terrible! You think it’s Kirra’s former owner?”

“I’m sure. He was waiting for me.” Conor didn’t mention the gun. She had enough to worry about.

Her eyes scraped over him. “But you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.” He touched her hand. “But I’d feel better if Kirra stayed with you.”

“If you’re sure, then I’d be happy to keep her.” Louisa’s smile was lopsided, but her pleasure shone through her eyes.

Conor’s chest swelled at her pleasure. “Do you mind if I sit in here with you for a while?”

“I guess not.” But Louisa’s eyes narrowed in suspicion when he stretched on top of the covers next to her.

He ignored her look and puffed the giant pillows behind his back. A flat-screen hung on the wall opposite the bed. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.” She handed him a remote control. “You pick. I don’t watch much TV.”

Looking for something relaxing, Conor flipped through the channels until he found an old movie network showing Bringing Up Baby. He tossed the remote on the bed next to him. “How’s this?”

“I love Cary Grant.” Louisa snuggled deeper into the pillows.

“Me too. My parents used to watch his old black-and-whites when I was a kid.” Conor remembered crawling into bed with them on Saturday mornings.

“Were they happy?”

“Very. I never doubted they loved each other. That’s what I always thought I’d have someday.” Conor glanced over. The soft light of the television played on her delicate features, spurring an ache deep in his chest. “What was it like before your mother died? Were your parents happy?”

“I think so.” She sniffed. “He’s never gotten over her death. After she died, he started drinking and spending most of his time in Europe.”

“Did he ever take you with him?”