“I hate the way you pee and poop on my floor,” he whispered sweetly. “I hate the sound of your crying. And I hate that you still haven’t eaten anything. If I never see you again, I’ll be glad. Also, your ears are dumb. They don’t fit on your head.”

Gradually, finally, she stilled. Plopping down on her belly, she scooted as close to him as she could get. Then tried to scoot even closer.

She was a small warmth against his skin, a body mostly made up of fur with fragile bones and a pattering heart underneath. She smelled like dog breath and shampoo.

He hadn’t shared a bed with anything or anyone in years, and this wasn’t how he would’ve chosen to break that streak. He was going to have to wash her stink off his sheets.

He closed his eyes, exhaustion creeping over his muscles. If he squished her during the night, or if she fell off the bed and broke her neck, or if she starved, then it would serve Finley right.

An image of Finley took shape in his mind, coming into focus. Her pale skin. Eyes the clear illuminated blue of the most stunning place he’d ever been: a mountain lake in the Tetons on a family trip a month before the earthquake. Her bright and genuine smile.

Finley, passionate champion of underdogs.

Finley, whose dead fiancé had been a do-gooder.

He wanted her—

No.

Don’t think about her, he warned himself. You cannot let yourself care.

And with every fiber of his soul, he knew it was true.

CHAPTER NINE

The next morning, Finley relocated herself and her laptop to Furry Tails’ foyer so that she could keep an eye out for Luke.

He arrived right on time. She watched him approach the building, holding a dog carrier in one hand. He shouldered in the door like an angry north wind.

Lately, pleasure coursed through her every time she saw Luke after they’d been apart. This time, no different. Pleasure swirled, warm and enticing.

No no no. Take away this pull I’m feeling toward him, Lord! Her motives toward Luke had to be sterling.

“How’d it go?” she asked cheerfully.

“Not well.” His eyes looked red and tired.

“In what way?”

“Every way. I think you’re going to need to shoot oatmeal into her mouth because she hasn’t eaten anything.”

“Has she been drinking water?”

“Some.” He set down the carrier. Agatha wailed.

“Not to worry. We’ll take over now.”

“Have you figured out which train depot you visited with your dad?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I spent time looking at pictures last night, but nothing clicked.”

“What do you remember about the depot?”