Page 15 of The Geography of Happiness

I totally agreed. “If no one’s claimed the guy by the time he’s neutered and ready to go, I’ll personally drive him to our best shelter.”Personally?I swallowed a groan around the inconvenient lump that giving a fuck about this guy lodged in my throat.

Terry side-eyed me. “It’s a no-kill shelter, right? Chrissy will hunt me down if it’s not.”

I placed a hand over my heart. “You have my word.” I lifted the pup to the floor so he could have a sniff around. “So, that’s about it, unless you change your mind and want to take him back with you?”

“What?” Terry’s eyes bulged. “Back to Painted Bay? Withme?” He stared at the pup. “Well, um, no. Of course, I’d love to, but I really can’t. One dog and a teenager keep me busy enough as it is.” His gaze remained locked on the pup, and I wasn’t sure if it was me or himself that he was trying to convince.

Then again, it wasn’t my business. “Of course. In that case, I’ll pop him in a kennel out back and neuter him tomorrow. What’s his name?”

Terry blinked slowly. “Name?”

I shrugged. “He has to be called something until we find him a home. Every animal has to have a name. Clinic rules.” The lie slid off my tongue far too easily. “You get the honour, if you want?”

Terry’s gaze narrowed. “I won’t be changing my mind just because I named him if that’s what you’re hoping.”

I swallowed a smile. “Not at all.”

He stared me down, reading right through my bullshit, then he sighed and grumbled, “Okay. But fair warning, I’m hopelessat this kind of thing.” He studied the pup. “Hannah names all our animals. She’s the creative one, not me. When it came to our cat, my suggestions were Fluffy or Peaches.”

I couldn’t suppress a snort. “Ouch. Yeah, not a big fan of those.”

Terry rolled his eyes. “See? You should do it.”

I zipped my lips, folded my arms, and leaned back against the stainless countertop.

Terry blew out a sigh. “Jerk. Okay. He’s an Australian cattle dog, right?”

I nodded. “At least partly. The colouring is fairly typical. ACDs are born white and get their adult colour around six to twelve months. Many are mottled just like this.”

“They’re born white?” Terry said, surprised.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” I called to the pup who’d just unloaded an impressive pool of pee on the tiles in the corner of the room. He made a beeline for my hand and immediately offered his belly.

“Sorry about that.” Terry grabbed a bunch of paper towels from the basin and dropped them on top of the pee. “That’s some tank he has for a little tacker.”

I chuckled. “If that’s the worst I have to deal with today, I’ll be laughing.”

He gave a mock shudder. “I’m not even going to ask.”

“Wise man.”

“What about Mack?” Terry eyed me hopefully. “He was found in the Mackenzie, after all.”

I tried really hard not to laugh. “Wow. You really do suck at this. How many Macks do you think the clinic has on its books? I’ll give you a clue. More than I care to count.”

Another groan. “Dammit.” His pout was cute as fuck.

“But Ilike the general direction you’re heading,” I added, earning myself another roll of those stunning blue eyes.

It was accompanied by a cautionary, “Don’t patronise me.”

So I didn’t, settling instead for watching the way his teeth worried his lower lip as he studied the pup and tried to come up with a better solution. And then there were those slim-fit jeans and the way they hugged his trim legs and perky arse, raising thoughts that had no right percolating in my brain.

“Miller,” he blurted.

It took me a second because... still ogling. Then I grinned. “Miller, huh?” I studied the pup. “That’s actually... pretty good.” I couldn’t hide the surprise in my voice and he laughed.

“Yeah, I know. Shocker, right?”

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