The Puppy Proposal. Katie Meyer

almost missed it. Had the setting sun been just a bit lower, the light a bit dimmer, he would have missed it, it being the most pathetic-looking animal he had ever seen. The dog—if that was the right word for the wet, filth-encrusted beast limping along the side of the road—was obviously in trouble. There wasn’t much traffic right now on this stretch of highway, but the Paradise Isle Bridge was just ahead, or so said the tinny voice of his rental car’s GPS. Crossing a highway bridge on foot, or paw for that matter, seemed a dangerous proposition. Besides, it was limping.

      But limping or not, it wasn’t his dog. Wasn’t his problem. He was in a suit. In a rental car. On vacation—well, sort of a vacation. A working vacation. So this grimy creature was definitely not his problem.

      Surely it knew the way home or would be picked up by someone that actually lived around here. Not that he was exactly sure where here was, GPS or no. He hadn’t passed a single town in over an hour, and the only brief glimpse of humanity had been a roadside stand selling gator jerky and boiled peanuts twenty miles back.

      Nic Caruso tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he approached and then passed, telling himself the dog would be fine. But his gaze kept returning to the rearview mirror, where he watched the muddy stray as it slowly hobbled east. Then saw it flinch as a wave of dirty water thrown by a speeding car drenched it yet again.

      “Damn it!”

      Nic swung the small SUV to the shoulder, slammed to a stop and quickly located the emergency flashers on the unfamiliar dash. It might not be his problem or his responsibility, but he couldn’t bring himself to just leave the dog there. Resigned, he undid his already loosened tie, carefully laying it on the suit jacket occupying the passenger’s seat.

      “Here, boy! Come here now.” He used his most authoritative voice, the one that he relied on in boardrooms across the globe.

      Nothing.

      The darned dog just kept going. So much for doing this the easy way. Nic opened the passenger’s door again and retrieved his tie. A quick slipknot and he had an impromptu leash. Great. Somehow, he didn’t think Hermès would approve.

      “Easy, boy. That’s it. Eaaasy…” Nic inched his way across the muddy roadside toward the now cowering dog, careful not to spook him any closer to the highway.

      A furry ear cocked in interest. The softer approach seemed to be working.

      “Good boy. Come on, that’s a good boy. How about I give you a ride wherever you’re going, okay?”

      A small tail wag was quickly followed by a cautious step forward. Hoping to appear less threatening, Nic crouched down, putting himself at eye level with the cautious canine. Brown eyes watched him warily, but the dog did keep moving in the right direction.

      Only a foot away, cars sped by, but Nic kept his focus on the muddy beast in front of him, willing him to cooperate. Only a little bit farther and…

      “Gotcha!”

      Nic slid the improvised leash over the dog and held tight, just in case he bolted, but the bedraggled beast seemed to have lost his earlier apprehension. A happy, wriggling bundle, he licked and yipped in gratitude. The frenetic thank-you dance gave Nic an up-close study of what appeared to be a border collie—admittedly just a best guess with all the grime matting down his fur. He was a good size, maybe fifty pounds, but from the look of the large paws, he wasn’t done growing yet.

      “So what do we do now? Any ideas?”

      An enthusiastic face-licking was hardly an appropriate answer.

      Nic stood and stretched while he thought of what to do. A week in the heart of Orlando on business, nightmare traffic on I-4, miles of desolate highway and now a muddy dog. When exactly had he completely lost control of his life? The only thing he could think to do was to keep heading for the island, and hope there was a shelter or veterinary hospital still open. Resolved, he started walking the dog along the shoulder of the road, only to be stopped by a soft whimper. Crap. Crouching again, he gathered the grubby canine to his chest and lifted him up. Carrying him to the car, Nic tried to ignore the ooze seeping through his shirt.

      “Up you go.” Nic held the door open with one hand, and the makeshift leash with the other. No more encouragement was needed; the dog bounded into the rear seat easily. Hopefully, that meant he wasn’t badly injured.

      Rounding the car, Nic brushed the worst of the dirt and fur off his clothes before sitting behind the wheel. He checked his mirrors and pulled carefully back onto the highway, then rolled down his windows as soon as he was up to speed, hoping to keep the wet-dog smell from permeating the upholstery. He doubted rental insurance covered that particular contingency.

      That was a mistake.

      Tempted by the open window, the dog nimbly hopped into the front seat and shoved his muzzle into the rushing air. Nic cast a grin at the happy animal’s expression—then cursed when he saw the now ruined suit jacket under his muddy paws.

      Nic mumbled uncharitable remarks about the pup’s parentage until the top of the Paradise Isle Bridge, where he was seduced into silence. From the apex of its span, he could see fishing boats bobbing among the diamond topped crests of the Intracoastal, then the lush green of the island, and beyond that the Atlantic Ocean, where pink-and-purple clouds flamed on the horizon, caught in the last rays of the setting sun. In his rearview mirror the atmospheric show continued, a kaleidoscope of colors, constantly shifting as the orange orb of the sun slipped further toward the horizon. The sight of all that sea and sky managed to melt the last of his workday tension, leaving him feeling, for the first time in a long time, almost free. Or he would be, once he figured out what to do with the dog.

      “Yes, Mrs. Ellington, I can see how that would be upsetting.” Veterinary technician Jillian Everett rubbed her temples with one hand while cradling the oversize phone receiver in the other. “But remember, Tinker Bell is only nine weeks old. It’s perfectly normal for her to not be housebroken yet… Oh. Well, no, I’m afraid I don’t know of any products that will get that kind of stain out of a leather handbag.”

      A loud snort of laughter betrayed Dr. Cassie Marshall’s presence behind her.

      “Yes, I agree, replacing it probably is the best idea. But, I really think you should consider waiting until Tinker Bell is older before carrying her in your purse for so long. When she’s a bit bigger, she’ll be better able to control where she, uh, leaves her presents. In the meantime, just stick to the feeding and training guidelines we sent home and I think she’ll be fine. If you have any other questions, I’m sure Dr. Marshall would be happy to answer them at your appointment next week.” Jillian mouthed a “gotcha” at Cassie, who was holding up her hands in a “not me” gesture.

      “Okay, Mrs. Ellington, we’ll see you next week. Have a good night and kiss little Tinker Bell for us. Bye.” Jillian hung up and glared at Cassie. “You set me up! You knew what that call was about, didn’t you? Why is she calling the veterinary hospital for a poopy purse, anyway? Don’t those fancy dog purse things have liners for this sort of situation? Or an emergency number to call?” Shaking her head at the absurdity of the situation, she made a notation in the file and stood to put it in the appropriate place.

      “I didn’t set you up…exactly. After all, helping with the call tonight was your idea. But yes, Mollie may have hinted at the situation before she left, and I may have made sure that particular chart ended up with the ones you so generously took off my hands.” She smiled. “Perk of being the boss, sorry.”

      Jillian didn’t think Cassie’s wide grin looked the least bit contrite. But she was a great boss, and Jillian had volunteered. Cassie had a young daughter to get home to, so when Jillian saw the big stack of files requiring follow-up phone calls, she had offered to take the majority of them. She planned to give Mollie, the receptionist at Paradise Animal Clinic, a piece of her mind tomorrow for that final absurd call, but really, it wasn’t as if she had anywhere else to be. No one was waiting