Naomi started to make an excuse-knee-jerk. But curiosity won. "I'd love to see your workshop. You don't have to feed me."

"Come to dinner. We eat a little early most Sundays. Come by anytime after four. Time to see my shop, for the kids to play with the dogs."

"I'll be there. I'll bring dessert."

- Bright and early she took a long-sleeved T-shirt and leggings out of boxes. She refused to use the dresser until she had Kevin fix the drawer and she'd replaced the hardware.

When she walked casually out to the car, the dog followed, jumped right in, gave her that smug-dog grin.

He didn't know what he was in for.

But he got at least part of the picture when she pulled into the parking lot at the vet's.

He quivered, shook, tried to glue his nicely healed paws to the floorboards.

"This time you've got a reason, but you don't know that. Come on, grow a spine." She pulled, hauled, bribed-with a tennis ball, as food was off the table until after the surgery.

"You won't miss them," she told him, then shook her head. "How do I know? I'd miss pretty much anything somebody snipped off me. But it has to be, okay? It's just how it goes."

She got him through the waiting room-empty, as she'd arranged to be the first surgery or appointment of any kind of the day.

"Hey, boy." Alice greeted him with a good rub, relaxed him so he leaned on her. "We'll take him from here. The procedure's routine-sometimes a little tougher on a grown dog, but still routine. We'll keep him a few hours after, to make sure everything's good."

"Okay. I'll come get him when you call." She gave the dog a pat on the head. "Good luck."

When she turned to go he howled-long and mournful, as he'd done a few times when he heard a siren. She glanced back, saw his blue eyes full of sorrow and fear.

"Shit. Just shit."

"Just let him know you're coming back," Alice advised. "You're his alpha."

"Shit," she said again, and walked back to crouch in front of the dog. "I'm coming back to get you, okay?" She took his head in her hands, felt herself battered with the love his gaze sent out. "Okay, all right. I'm coming back to get you, take you home. You just have to do this first. I'll go-hell-I'll go buy you some good dog-sans-balls presents."

The dog licked her cheek, laid his head on her shoulder.

"He'd hug you if he could," Alice commented.

Sunk, Naomi hugged him instead. "I'll be back."

He whined when she rose, cried when she started out.

"He'll be fine," Alice called after her.

And the heart Naomi hadn't wanted to give away broke a little when she heard the dog howl.

She bought him a little stuffed cat, a ball that squeaked-telling herself she'd regret both purchases. She added a sturdy tug rope, a dog brush.

She made herself go home, made herself work. And when she couldn't concentrate for more than ten minutes, she put on her paint clothes. She didn't have to be creative to paint a room.

While she primed the walls, she imagined furnishing it. Maybe a sleigh bed, maybe dark gray. Mason would like it when he came to visit her. Or maybe old and iron-gray again. Gray would work with the green tones she'd paint in here.

Why didn't Alice call?

Annoyed with herself, she broke one of her unwritten rules about poking into whatever the crew was doing unless it was for pictures, and went downstairs.

They'd primed the living room-mostly because she couldn't quite decide what color she wanted there. The fireplace mantel needed refinishing, and made her think of Jenny. If Jenny did a decent job on the desk, she could do the mantel.

She wandered the space, looked out windows at the views. She wasn't ready to throw in the towel and hire a landscaper, but most of the outside rehab just had to wait until the bulk of the work was done inside, and men-and women-weren't tromping all over the place.

She moved on, stopped at the odd jut of a room she'd decided could be a little library. Maybe she didn't often find or take the time to curl up with an actual book, but she'd imagined doing so there on a rainy day-or in the dead of winter with the fire sparking.

Now Kevin and the buxom Macie set the first of the flanking built-ins in place to the right of the hearth.

"Oh, Kevin."

He glanced back, grinned as he shoved up the bill of his cap. "Go ahead and say it. You were right; I was wrong."

"I didn't know you'd finished them."

"We figured we'd surprise you. You were right. I didn't see it, little room like this. Take out that wall, I told you, and you'd have some space. But you stuck, and you had the eye. What you've got is cozy, and good light, and-what do you say, Macie?"

"Charm. It's gonna have charm, especially when we put up the crown molding."

"It's beautiful wood-the cherry-and beautiful work."

"That's what we do, right, Mace?"

"Damn right."

"You were right about straight open, floor to ceiling, too. Gives it dimension, makes the room seem bigger."

"I'm going to have to send for my books. I usually read on my tablet, but I've got a couple boxes of books back home."

"If you need more you can tap Xander."

"Why?"

"He's got books everywhere," Macie told her.

"Oh yeah." Kevin took a small level out of his tool belt, laid it on a shelf. "Every now and then he'll box some up, donate them, but mostly he hoards them. If you need to fill some of these shelves, you should tap him about it."

"I'll see what-" She jumped when her phone signaled, snatched it out of her pocket. "It's the vet. Yes, this is Naomi. Okay. Okay. Really?" As relief washed over her like a warm wave, she rubbed her hand over her face. "That's great. I'll come now. No, I'll be there in a few minutes. Thanks."

Blowing out a breath, she shoved the phone away again. "The dog-he's out of recovery or whatever. Ready to come home. I'll be back."

"Oh, in case I don't see you-you made the papers."

"The what?" She stopped dead.

"The papers," Kevin repeated. "I got a copy in the kitchen."

She kept her voice even. "What happened?"

"The Cove Chronicle. It comes out once a month. Just a few pages, local news and such. It's a nice story about the house, fixing it up."

"Oh."

Local little paper. Nothing to worry about. Nobody but the locals would see it.

"I'll leave you the copy. Jenny's got more at home, as I got some ink, too."

"I'll read it when I get back. Thanks. I better go get the dog."

She'd put off the reporter, editor, publisher-she thought the woman who'd wanted to talk to her wore all three hats. But it didn't matter. Naomi took every precaution to keep her name out of print, to keep her whereabouts out of print.

Nobody beyond Sunrise Cove, or certainly no one outside the county, would read the article. And nobody would connect her with Thomas David Bowes.

And she had more important things to worry about right at the moment.

She dashed into the vet's, muttered a thanks when the receptionist gestured her to go back. She found Alice fitting the dog with a cone.

He looked a little dazed and confused, but he let out a short, happy bark, and his tail wagged madly when he saw Naomi.

"He's okay?"

"Came through like a champ. He has meds, and you have instructions. The cone's to keep him from worrying the site, the stitches. He'll probably sleep more than anything else. He may be a little sore and not want to walk much for a day or two."

"Okay. That's okay." She got down, stroked his ears inside the cone. "You're okay."

She took the meds, the instructions, paid the bill, gave him a boost into the car.

He didn't sleep. He had to sniff at everything in the front yard-though he walked a little stiffly. He had to sniff and wag at the crew. He and Molly had to sniff and wag at each other.

And he bumped into everything. Walls, tools, her.

She helped him upstairs, gave him the stuffed cat-a mistake, she noted as the cone got in the way.

One of the crew called up with a question. She went down, and in the fifteen minutes she was gone, he'd managed to get out of the cone and was licking away where his balls had once been.

"How the hell did you get out of that?"

Pleased, he thumped his tail.

"You can't do that anymore. Those days are over." She fitted the cone back on him-an ordeal, as he seemed to hate it more than the leash.

She got it back in place, gave him a rawhide, and considered the matter settled.

It wasn't.

- Xander figured he'd given it some time-and he had the excuse of paying her for half the ball snipping. Maybe, if he played it right, he could get another dinner out of it. And with that, maybe he could get her a few more steps closer to that big, beautiful bed.

It was worth the drive out.

He pulled up on his motorcycle, with the dog barking and wagging in greeting. The dog would've rushed over to finish the hello, but Naomi sat on the porch steps, and had the dog in a death grip.

Holding him in place while she . . . Jesus Christ.

Appalled, sincerely, Xander pulled off his helmet. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're putting pants on that dog."

"Then that's what the hell I'm doing."

She dragged them the rest of the way on-red shorts with a white side stripe-then let the dog go.

She leaned back on the steps while the dog-looking like an idiot-hurried over for a rub.

"What kind of person puts pants on a dog?"

"The kind who isn't going to keep fighting to keep the damn cone on him. He gets out of it. Kevin duct-taped the thing, and he still got out of it if I took my eyes off him for five damn minutes. And when he was in it, he ran into everything. Including me. I swear on purpose. He hated it."

"Cone of Shame?"

"Yeah, the damn Cone of Shame. So now he's wearing the Pants of Humiliation. But the stupid dog seems to like them."

"Pants of Humiliation." Xander had to grin. "You cut a hole for his tail."

"Kevin had them in his truck. His old running shorts. I got creative."

"Maybe, but how do you expect him to do what he needs to do out here?"

"Why the hell do you think I was dragging them back on him?" She waved her arms, winced, rubbed her right biceps. "I brought him out, took them off so he did what he needed to do. Now they're on, and he can't get to the incision site. In fact, he seems to forget about it when he's wearing them."

"Maybe you should buy him an outfit." Impressed with her inventiveness, Xander sat down beside her, rubbed the dog. "I got my half of the deal. Alice said he did fine."

"Yeah, yeah. He's fine. I'm exhausted."

"I can order a pizza."

"No, thanks, but- Crap, just crap. Yes. Please order. The backs of my calves are covered in cone bruises. My arms ache from painting and from struggling with this dog-who's putting on those pounds just fine, thanks."

The dog brought Xander a ball he'd obviously stowed somewhere outside for easy access.

"Don't throw it. He really shouldn't run yet."

Xander pushed up again. "Anything you don't like on pizza?"