It’s just a sleeping arrangement, nothing more. What am I so afraid of? It’ll be like sharing a bed with a friend on a girls’ outing. Her eyes swept over Lucas’s solid frame, down to his hairy legs and sandal-clad feet. She swallowed hard. Okay, not quite like that.

I don’t have to . . . do anything in that bed except sleep. In fact, I’ll be asleep by the time he comes to bed anyway. And he rises before me. I’ll hardly notice he’s there.

Resolved, she met his eyes square on. “Fine. We’ll share the room.”

Nine

Nine

Know what you’re looking for before you begin dating. As with a spontaneous shopping spree, if you don’t have a goal in mind, you’ll come home with the wrong thing.

—Excerpt from Finding Mr. Right-for-You by Dr. Kate

It was dark by the time they unloaded Kate’s belongings in the cottage. She plugged in her treadmill, which they’d squeezed into a corner of the living room. From here she had a good view out the front window and could watch the news too.

As she contemplated her surroundings, Bo brushed against Kate’s legs as if trying to guide her toward the sofa.

“He wants you to sit down and pet him,” Lucas said.

“Why is his fur discolored under his mouth?”

Lucas rubbed Bo behind the ears. “Drool yellows the fur.” He disappeared into the kitchen, Bo plodding behind him.

Kate grimaced. I had to ask.

She turned on the treadmill, making sure it worked, then straightened the square pillows on the couch. She’d tried to tidy up a bit, and now that the floor was clutter free, she saw the nice rug that covered the oak floors. Too bad it was covered in dog hair.

Bo ambled back and plopped down by the fireplace, watching her, his huge shaggy head cocked. His white hair hung like a dirty mop over his eyes. At least he didn’t smell.

“You didn’t tell me Bo was so big,” Kate called.

“He’s a sheepdog,” Lucas called from the kitchen, as if that explained it.

“I thought that was like a miniature Lassie. I wasn’t expecting a”—there was no call to be rude—“a large dog.” Kate stepped past Bo and surveyed the room. Even clean, it felt tiny. The treadmill looked mammoth against the sand-colored wall.

“That’s a Shetland sheepdog. He’s an Old English sheepdog.” Lucas was in the kitchen doorway, two steps away. He extended a cut-glass vase filled with white daisies. “These are for you.”

Kate didn’t know what to say. “What for?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Our one-week anniversary.” Was that a flush climbing his cheeks? “It’s silly.”