Emily March - Miracle Road

“I repeat: Why am I not surprised?” And his mother was such a nice person. Poor woman. Imagine this horror sitting at the dinner table on Sunday.

As they approached his house, he increased his pace so that he reached the front porch well ahead of her. The hinges on the screen door creaked as he yanked it open, then motioned for her to precede him.

Hope knew what to expect inside the house. She’d visited many times after she first moved to Eternity Springs. Her neighbor Louise Morrison had been a widow in her seventies who had befriended Hope and taught her things that had helped her adjust to life in a small Rocky Mountain town. When Louise died in her sleep the previous March, Hope had been devastated. Louise had left both her house and the care of her beloved Roxy to her nephew.

It hadn’t been a good match. The nephew’s family hadn’t liked small-town living, so as soon as they could manage, they’d moved back to Colorado Springs, leaving Roxy behind but promising to send for her as soon as they could find a new apartment that allowed pets.

She wasn’t holding her breath for that phone call.

A wave of sorrow washed over Hope as she walked inside. She missed Louise.

“It’s that way,” Lucca said, pointing toward his bedroom. “Go on in. I’ll get the box.”

Hope didn’t bother to tell him that he could get all the boxes he wanted, but she wasn’t going to relocate those puppies until Nic Callahan gave the okay.

Entering Lucca’s bedroom, she only vaguely noted the unmade queen-sized bed and the open duffel bag on the floor. Her attention was focused on the closet, a long, narrow opening with bifold doors that stood completely open. She saw Roxy stretched out on a pile of clothing on the floor.

Hope went down on her knees just outside the closet opening. In a soft, gentle tone, she said, “Hey there, Roxy. Hey there, girl. Look at you, little mama.”

The dog lifted her head, and Hope got her first good look at the nursing puppies. Her heart melted. “Aww …”

They were tiny, no bigger than the palm of her hand. Two tan and one dappled, tan and white. Roxy lay her head down once again and Hope rolled back on her heels. Puppies. They stayed with their mother what, six weeks? Eight? Then they were taken away? Ripped out of their mother’s life?

Tears stung her eyes. “Oh, Roxy. Roxy.”

Who decided that was okay? Who decided that animals didn’t grieve for their offspring?

“I’m in trouble,” she murmured. She knew that Louise’s nephew would never actually send for Roxy. It had been three weeks since they left town, and she’d not heard one word from the man. So in reality, these four dogs were now her responsibility. Was she supposed to start looking for homes for them? Four separate homes? She couldn’t do that. But then that would mean …

“I can’t keep four dogs.” What was she going to do?

Her cellphone rang and she reached for it like a lifeline. Checking the number, she breathed a sigh of relief and answered. “Hello, Nic. Thank you so much for returning my call. I’m afraid I have a bit of a situation, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

She explained what had happened and asked for Nic’s guidance. Nic asked a few questions, gave Hope some instructions, then offered to stop by to check on Roxy and her litter that afternoon. Surprised, Hope asked, “You make house calls?”

“Just looking out for my own interests,” Nic replied. “With two girls headed for kindergarten soon, I figure it’s never too soon to suck up to the teacher.”

Hope laughed. “Thanks, Nic. I’ll see you later.”

She ended the call and rolled to her feet. Turning around, she saw Lucca standing just inside the door, a cardboard box in his hand. She stepped past him, saying, “I’ll be back.”

He reached out. “Hold on there. You’re forgetting something.”

His big hand wrapped completely around her upper arm. He didn’t squeeze; it wasn’t painful. He simply prevented her from moving beyond the threshold of his bedroom door.

He stood close, smelling of soap, a fragrance she recognized as one of the men’s soaps his sister-in-law’s shop sold. He stood so near to her that she could feel the heat of his body. When was the last time she’d stood this close to a man in a bedroom?

“You’re taking the pups.”

“Yes, but later.”

“How much later?”

Hope’s mind was spinning with a list of supplies. “I need to prepare a place for them to stay. The vet told me what to do and how to do it. Once it’s ready, I’ll come back and get the dogs.”

He gave her a dubious look. “How long is this preparation going to take?”

“Not that long.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied her. “Why don’t I help you? We’ll get things done twice as fast.”

“Thank you, but what I have to do is really a one-person job. I’ll be back in an hour. Two at the most.”

After a moment’s pause, he nodded, and his hand dropped to his side. “I’m going to trust you’ll make this fast. I might not know your name, but I do know where you live. I can move the mutts myself if I have to.”

“Please don’t. I’ll be back for them. I promise. I really am sorry about this—sorry about the bite. I know it’s disruptive to have puppies in your closet. I’ll be two hours, tops, Mr. Romano.”

Again, he flashed a smile, only this time the darn thing seemed resigned. Almost genuine. It lit up the emeralds of his eyes, and her mouth went a little dry at the sight. Oh, my, he’s really gorgeous.

He led her across to the front door, then he held it open for her. As she stepped out onto his porch, he repeated, “Two hours, tops. See you soon, Bertha.”

The screen door banged shut behind her, and despite herself, Hope grinned.

An hour and forty minutes later, she was back. She’d moved some furniture out of the room she used as a home office and set up the whelping pen on loan from Nic that she’d picked up at the vet clinic. She’d lined it with layers of newspaper and fabric and ordered absorbent puppy pads online that should arrive the following day. After talking to Nic, she was both nervous about what she’d committed to do and excited for the new experience.

Carrying a laundry basket filled with towels and a blanket, she knocked on Lucca Romano’s front door. Minutes passed. She knocked again. She heard no sound at all from inside the house. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Mr. Romano? Lucca?”

Nothing.

“Well, hurry up and wait,” she muttered. It figured that he’d be the type to demand punctuality in others but consider himself above the common courtesy in return. She didn’t have time to waste. She wanted to get Roxy and the puppies all settled by the time Nic arrived to check on them so that she could advise her if she’d done something wrong. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Lucca?”

She listened. Nothing. She tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. He did tell me to come get the dogs. That’s a tacit invitation inside, I’d think.

Hope stepped into the house and moved confidently toward the bedroom. As she passed the hall bathroom, she noted that he’d left the wet gym shorts he’d been wearing lying in a heap on the floor. Such a slob. Bet Maggie would just love to see that.

At the door to his bedroom, Hope stopped cold.

Lucca Romano lay sprawled on his stomach across the top of the bed, a white sheet tangled around his hips. She heard a slight snore rumbling from beneath the pillow he had pulled over his head. She took a minute to appreciate the view. Italian skin deeply tanned from a summer spent south of the border, muscles developed by years of athletic training filling out his long, tall frame: he was a gorgeous specimen of masculinity. She could easily imagine him in a charcoal Armani suit, white dress shirt, and a tie with green stripes to subtly complement the color of his eyes. Definitely GQ qualified.