That was a Jeeves von Hinklebottom the Third if Ford had ever met one.

With a laugh, he decided to come to Lila’s rescue. It seemed the least he could do after she was so careful to set up a selection process that his daughter quashed in thirty seconds flat. “Jeeves looks absolutely perfect to me. What is he? A poodle of some kind?”

“Half poodle and half cocker spaniel, actually. He’s what’s known as a cockapoo. They’re perfect for kids and perfect as hearing service dogs, but I wasn’t kidding about the whole meet-and-greet process. She really should try to get to know them all first.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Ford agreed. He held out a hand to help hoist Lila to her feet. He liked the way her palm felt, smooth and strong against his. “But as much as you might know dogs, I know kids—or this kid, anyway. She knows what she wants. Once she makes a decision, it’s made, and woe to the man, woman, or child who gets in her way. It’s a bit of a family failing, to be honest.”

He had yet to release Lila’s hand. Before he could second-guess himself, he tugged, drawing her closer. He didn’t embrace her or touch any part of her except the hand she’d offered, but it didn’t matter. The space between them was its own physical entity—a hot, pulsating thing he could almost reach out and touch. The enticing jut of her chest stopped mere inches away from his own, her chin tilted so that their eyes were level.

“We know a good thing when we see it,” he added, his voice low.

Lila’s lower lip fell, her soft pink mouth open just enough for an enterprising man to take advantage. Unfortunately, Ford’s enterprising days were long behind him. All he had now were awkward, semi-inappropriate jokes to prop himself up.

“Jeeves peeves. Hinklebottom pinklebottom.” Emily started laughing and dancing around the kennel, winding herself through their legs like a snake. “Daddy, did you hear me? I said ‘pinklebottom.’”

“Yes, moppet. I heard.” He heaved a sigh and released Lila’s hand. The moment was lost—and with it, all chance he had of being the least bit suave. Once upon a time, he’d had suavity. Heaps of it, in fact. But it had long since been buried under stale Cheerios and lost sippy cup lids. “There’s a whole alphabet for you to torture this poor animal with. What a treat for us all. Well, Lila? Is there something I’m supposed to sign? I can tell you right now the only way you’re parting that child from that puppy is with a crowbar.”