“I don’t know.”

“I earnestly want for you to enjoy working here.”

“Yet you just told me that I have to take care of a puppy against my will.”

“Yes, because puppies require a lot of care—”

“Which I am not qualified to give.”

“—which any kind, mature adult is qualified to give.”

“I’m not a kind, mature adult. I’m an ex-con.”

Finley took his measure. “You’re a kind, mature adult. All that’s left is to line up your actions with the nobility that’s always been inside.”

“Finley, it irritates the crap out of me when you say things like that. Blind optimism is not in your best interest.” He’d never met anyone so determined to see people and animals as better than they were. She’d have followed along behind Billy the Kid, smiling.

She stiffened, and he could tell he’d rubbed her the wrong way. “I’ve buried my fiancé and my father. I am not blindly optimistic. I’m an experienced, eyes-wide-open optimist.”

Several seconds passed. So much of what he felt toward her—admiration, frustration, physical desire, defensiveness—was confusing and contradictory.

“I’ll take the puppy home,” he said, “if you’ll agree to move on to the next clue sooner rather than later.”

“During our initial discussion, I told you that I needed to do this hunt on my timeline.”

“Yeah, but procrastinating isn’t going to make anything better. It’s only going to increase your stress. And it’s definitely going to increase my stress.”

She twirled one of her many rings. “Take Agatha home, and I’ll start researching train depots to see if I can figure out which depot my dad was referencing in the new clue.”

“When will you start researching?”

“Tonight.”

“How long before someone adopts Agatha?”

“Female puppies go fast.”

“How fast?”

“Almost always in less than a week. And you’ll only have Agatha to yourself in the evenings. Others will take over when you’re here.”

“Fine.” He moved to the door, eager to be free of the closeness of the small office and the scent of her perfume. That scent made him think of spending a day in bed with her, surrounded by twisted sheets that smelled like an orange grove in spring.

Finley trailed him into the workroom, giving him an earful on puppy care 101.

A superior glint in her eye, Kat handed him a piece of paper that said, How to Love Your Puppy.

Trish sang “Deck the Halls.”

Luke’s mind flicked off when Finley started talking about products to use to clean up puppy accidents, but his attention snapped back when Ben Coleman stopped in the open doorway.

Inwardly, Luke cursed. Just when he’d been sure this day couldn’t get worse, here was Ben.

“Ben!” Finley said warmly, beckoning him in and introducing him to the others as the Center’s newest volunteer.