Tanner Ties. Peggy Moreland

stepped onto the roof again. “Get back inside and out of the rain,” he ordered.

      “You can’t tell me what to do!”

      He paused, sure that he’d misunderstood, then moved back to the edge of the roof and saw that she was still standing in the rain, glaring up at him, her hands fisted on her hips. “Then stand there and drown,” he told her. “Makes me no nevermind.”

      Muttering curses under his breath, he picked up a log, dropped it over the plastic to secure it, then tugged the sheet, walking backward, to spread it out more. He was bending to pick up another log, when he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Lauren had grabbed the plastic roll and was slip-sliding her way across the roof, dragging it behind her.

      Stubborn woman, he thought irritably. She was going to slip on the slick tin and fall and break her neck…if lightning didn’t strike her first.

      Well, if she did fall, that was her problem, he told himself, and continued to lay out plastic. She obviously didn’t have the good sense God gave a goose.

      Amazingly, they finished laying out the plastic without incident, then Luke followed Lauren down the ladder to the ground. Rain was streaming down his face and dripping off his chin as he folded the ladder, preparing to leave.

      Her stance resentful, Lauren watched him, her arms hugging her waist. “You can add a couple of hours to your time sheet.”

      He dragged a hand down his face, sluicing off water, before lifting the ladder to his shoulder. “I didn’t do it for the pay.”

      “Oh. Well,” she said, obviously flustered. She frowned a moment, then gestured toward the cabin. “The least I can do is offer you a towel to dry off with.”

      “Thanks, but I better go. I’ve got—”

      Before he could explain that he had the dog with him, the animal in question came bounding toward them on his three good legs, barking like a maniac.

      At the sound, Lauren whirled. Her eyes went wide when she recognized the dog, and she dropped to her knees and opened her arms. The dog leaped up, planting its front paws on her shoulders and licking her face.

      Laughing, she tried to dodge his exuberant greeting. “Just look at you!” she cried. “If I didn’t know better, I’d never believe you were almost a greasy spot on the road.”

      Luke eased closer, surprised by her obvious delight in seeing the dog. “Another week or so and he’ll lose the limp.”

      She glanced up at him, her face wreathed in a smile. “That vet you took him to must be one talented guy.”

      Luke dropped his gaze. “Uh…I never took him to the vet.”

      She looked at him curiously. “But I thought you said he required stitches?”

      “Thirty-two in all.”

      “If a vet didn’t stitch him up, who did?”

      “Me.”

      “You?”

      He scowled at the doubt in her voice. “I’ve worked around animals most of my life. He isn’t the first one I’ve patched up.”

      Before she could reply, the first flash of lightning ripped the sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. Lauren quickly pushed to her feet. “We better get out of this storm.”

      “Yeah. Better.” Luke slapped a hand against his thigh, signaling the dog to follow. “Come on. Let’s hit the road.”

      Lauren dropped a protective hand on the dog’s head. “Come inside and dry off first.”

      Luke shook his head. “’Preciate the offer, but I need to get the dog out of the weather.”

      “He’s welcome to come in, too.”

      “But he’s wet and muddy and smells like dog.”

      Laughing, Lauren gave the dog’s ears an affectionate rub. “He is a dog. What should he smell like?”

      Luke watched her head for the cabin door, the dog trotting happily along at her side. With no other choices left to him, he followed.

      Three

      The interior of the cabin was dark as a cave. Luke had been right in assuming Lauren would lose electrical power during the storm.

      “Give me a second to light some candles,” she said, “then I’ll get you a towel.”

      He remained just inside the door and stripped off his dripping slicker, then toed off his muddy boots. He heard the scrape of a match and saw the burst of a small flame. With her hand cupped around it, Lauren leaned to touch the flame to a wick. The flame burned brighter, illuminating her face. She moved her hand to light a second candle, a third. After lighting them all, she straightened with a sigh, pushed back the hood of her jacket and shook out her hair.

      He couldn’t help but stare. God, she’s beautiful, he thought. In the candlelight, her hair gleamed like black satin and her cheeks like dew-kissed roses.

      She glanced his way and gave him an apologetic smile, as she removed her raincoat. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you hot coffee. The electricity’s off.”

      “I figured you’d lose power during the storm.”

      “I can offer you a dry towel, though. Give me a sec and I’ll get you one.”

      He watched her pass through an open doorway into another room. He heard her scuffling around inside and figured she was changing clothes. She appeared moments later, wearing a butter-yellow sweatsuit, a towel wrapped around her head, turban-style. She was carrying a stack of fluffy towels and handed him one, then dropped down on the sofa and opened the remaining one over her lap.

      Smiling at the dog, she patted the towel. “Come on, Buddy. Let’s get you dried off.”

      In the midst of drying off his own face, Luke slowly lowered the towel. “Buddy?” he repeated dully.

      Her expression turning sheepish, she scrubbed the towel over the dog’s head. “Sorry. Habit. I’ve probably had five pets in my lifetime, and I’ve named every one of them Buddy.” With a shrug she wiped the towel over the dog’s back. “So, what did you name him?”

      He eased closer. “Didn’t. I just call him…buddy.”

      She lifted her head and looked at him in surprise. “Really?” She shifted her gaze back to the dog and smiled. “Then, I guess Buddy’s your name. Is that all right with you?”

      In answer, he licked her full on the mouth.

      Laughing, she dragged the back of her hand across her lips. “And isn’t that just like a man? Trying to French kiss a woman on the first date.” She quickly dried the dog’s legs, then leaned back to inspect him. “You still look half-drowned, but that’s the best I can do.” She cocked her head. “How about a treat?”