“Oh, our errand today was much better than a doctor’s visit,” Ford said, careful to keep his tone light. He had to. It was the part of the game they played, the persona he’d cultivated after years of living in a neighborhood like this one.

It contained mostly women—mostly single—and a nicer and more supportive group of people he had yet to meet. Since the day he’d moved in, women like Helen Griswold and Maddie Thomas and Danica DeWinter had gone above and beyond to help him figure out this whole single-parent thing. Most of them had children in Emily’s kindergarten class, and most of them were kind, knowledgeable, genuinely interesting human beings who’d helped him out of a tight corner more times than he cared to admit.

Therein lay the problem. He liked them. He appreciated them. But there were times when all he wanted to do was unload his daughter and her new puppy without being interrogated about it. They were invested in everything, from his childcare to his (lack of a) dating life. He’d once tried making up a girlfriend in Canada in the hope that it would buy him some space, but all that had done was launch a series of questions about maple syrup and universal health care that he was sure he’d failed at the outset.

“Daddy!” came a shout from inside the minivan. “He’s peeing. I told you.”

Helen lifted her brow at him.

“He’s peeing,” Ford apologized. “She told me. I should know better than to doubt a lady’s word.”

Without waiting for her to say more, Ford ducked his head and bolted around the van to extricate his daughter and the wriggling puppy, who was making quick work of turning the upholstery into his own private bathroom.

Lila had warned him that Jeeves might take a few days to settle into his new home and new routine, but she hadn’t mentioned that the animal had a bladder the size of a marble. Gently lifting the puppy and aiming his pink belly away from the van, Ford had to stand there, looking like a cherub in a stone fountain, until Jeeves had finally reached empty.

“He’s not used to such refined company,” he said when Helen came around to join them, a look of inquiry on her face. “His best friend was a mongrel, his last girlfriend a cur.”

“His last girlfriend…?”

“You can’t hold him like that.” Emily hopped down from the van and held her arms out for her puppy. “Princess Lila said to be gentle. You’re not being gentle.”