The Bachelor's Perfect Match. Kathryn Springer

highly doubt it,” the vet finally said. “The X-rays I took show...older...injuries. The deputy found evidence the owner was hunting out of season, so if he does step up to claim the dog, he’d be facing questions he won’t want to answer.”

      So rather than get into trouble, the owner had simply abandoned the animal.

      Dr. Voss stopped in front of a door and slipped his hand inside to flip the light on. A row of large wire crates—all empty except the one filled with rags—lined the wall.

      “Where—” Aiden’s throat convulsed, sealing off the rest of the sentence, when the bundle of rags moved. Took on the shape of a dog.

      His mom’s gasp of dismay broke the silence, and the veterinarian’s lips flattened in agreement.

      “Believe it or not, he actually looks better than he did when the deputy brought him in. Sunni, I’ll need you to sign a few papers, and then we’ll go over the list of medications,” Dr. Voss said. “He’s on a strong antibiotic and will need a dose of the pain medication every four to six hours for the next few days.”

      “Every four to six hours?” Aiden hiked a brow at his mom. “You’re going to have to run back and forth to the shelter to give the dog a pill?”

      “Of course not, sweetheart.” Sunni gave him a bright smile. “He’ll be at the house for a few days.”

      At the house.

      Aiden should have known.

      “You can take a seat in the waiting room, Aiden,” Dr. Voss said. “It won’t take very long.”

      After they left, Aiden approached the crate cautiously and bent down. A pair of bottomless, espresso-brown eyes stared back at him.

      The dog was a mix of some sort. Coonhound and Labrador retriever, maybe, with a pointed nose, floppy ears and a tail hinged in the middle like a broken windshield wiper. It was also thin to the point of emaciation, with uneven patches of gray and brown bristles instead of fur. Even at the peak of health it wouldn’t be the adorable, cuddly kind of pup most people wanted to adopt.

      “You know what Sunni is up to, right?” Aiden whispered. “We’re both invalids, and she’s hoping we bond during our convalescence.”

      The dog bared its teeth and growled.

      Aiden nodded. “I totally agree.”

       Chapter Five

      Mondays.

      Maddie decided there were times they deserved their reputation.

      She clicked the mouse and brought up slide number twelve, even though she was fairly certain she’d lost the teenagers at number four.

      Tyler’s eyes were glued to his cell phone, Skye was drawing on the cover of her notebook and Justin appeared to be napping.

      But at least they were here. Maddie had expected to spend Monday evening catching up on her emails, but the teens had drifted into the conference room one at a time and claimed their seats at the table.

      The high school guidance counselor had given Maddie the link for the career assessment survey, so they’d spent the first hour in the computer lab, filling out the questionnaire. She planned to go over the results at their next session, but there were still twenty minutes left in this one.

      I could use some help here, Lord.

      No sooner than Maddie sent up the silent prayer, Aiden limped into the room.

      “The door was unlocked again.” He claimed the empty chair at the table as if it had been reserved especially for him.

      As if he hadn’t been a no-show on Saturday afternoon, even though Maddie had stayed an extra hour—or two—waiting for him.

      Aiden’s decision not to follow up on his request for help didn’t surprise Maddie. What did surprise her was the disappointment that had clung like a burr on her favorite cardigan for the rest of the day.

      She hadn’t seen him at New Life Fellowship on Sunday morning, either. Maddie served in the church nursery twice a month, and by the time the last set of parents had picked up their child, everyone had left the building.

      She’d told herself it was for the best, but here he was again. And once more, the teenagers were giving Aiden their full attention.

      Maddie set down the clicker and went with it.

      “Aiden, what was the topic of your senior presentation?”

      “My senior presentation?”

      She nodded. “You were a year ahead of me in high school, and I had to give one, so I’m pretty sure you did, too.”

      “Maybe he skipped that day,” Tyler interjected.

      The gleam in the boy’s eye told Maddie he was contemplating it, too.

      “It wouldn’t matter.” Skye slid lower in her chair. “They just make you do it the next day.”

      “What if he hadn’t come back the next day?” Tyler retorted. “Or the next? What if he hadn’t come back at all?”

      Why did Maddie get the feeling that Tyler wasn’t talking about Aiden anymore?

      Skye tossed her mane of brown-and-lavender-striped hair. “Then he would’ve been stupid—”

      “Survival camping.”

      Skye and Tyler, who were glaring at each other across the table, spun toward Aiden.

      “What’s that?” Skye blurted.

      “You go into the woods with nothing more than you can carry in a backpack,” Aiden explained. “You find your own water. Food. Make a shelter to sleep in.”

      The girl’s eyes widened. “That’s crazy.”

      “The faculty board thought so, too.” Aiden grinned. “But I still got an A.”

      “It sounds like one of those shows on TV,” Tyler said. “I saw one episode where a guy climbed into a hollow tree and it was full of wasps. He got stung, like, a thousand times.”

      Aiden shrugged. “I didn’t have to worry about bugs. It was February.”

      He’d gone camping. In February. On purpose.

      “Where did you sleep?” Justin unexpectedly joined the conversation. Maddie grabbed onto the back of a chair for support.

      “I made a snow cave. Snow is actually a great insulator.” Aiden dropped his voice a notch. “That’s why you don’t see bears putting on sweaters before they go into hibernation.”

      Skye giggled.

      Giggled.

      Justin had spoken up, Skye was acting seventeen instead of twenty-seven and Tyler was actually looking at Aiden instead of his cell phone.

      And Maddie? She was a little in awe—and a whole lot of envious—at how effortlessly Aiden had connected with the three teenagers.

      “You’re supposed to write an outline and do research and stuff.” Tyler tossed an accusing look at Maddie, as if she were the one who’d written the guidelines for their senior presentation.

      Aiden laughed. “You don’t think I did some research before I ventured into the woods when it was only ten degrees outside?”

      Tyler crossed his arms, covering his interest with a skeptical look. “They really let you talk about camping?”

      “I didn’t just talk,” Aiden said. “I brought in my backpack and showed them how I made it through the weekend with the supplies I’d packed. Like Maddie said, the whole idea behind the senior presentation is to learn more about something that interests you...and in the process