Lauren spent the next hour in the company of the dogs. She read the names on their collars and matched them to each dog’s unique markings and personality. Briar Rose had quickly become her favorite, even though she didn’t seem to fit in well with the others—not just her calmer demeanor and slighter build, but also her name.
The other huskies and malamutes were named predictable plain things like Alice, Bob, Carol, Dennis, and so on. In fact, there was a name for each letter of the alphabet—and Briar Rose made twenty-seven total.
While all the dogs were happy to spend time with Lauren, Briar Rose was the one who stuck to her side for the whole of the hour. Lauren was very tempted to bring Briar into the house so she would have at least one friend inside, but she preferred to avoid added confrontation with Shane. After all, it was very likely he’d consider her making a pet of his sled dog “unprofessional.”
She settled for a quick goodbye and promise to see the dog again bright and early in the morning, then made her way inside to see about dinner.
Her employer had beaten her to it, though. Shane stood hunched over a boiling pot of water, struggling with a box of spaghetti as he tried to keep himself propped up on his crutches and away from the splash zone of the roiling water. He wore plaid pajama bottoms and a button-down shirt. His feet were bare, which seemed a mistake in this weather even with being indoors.
“Let me help with that,” she offered, rushing across the small eat-in kitchen before she even had a chance to remove her coat or boots.
Shane jerked the box out of her reach, accidentally flinging half its contents to the floor. “Now look what you made me do!”
“I didn’t make you do anything. That’s all you and your stubbornness.” She stooped down to pick up the scattered noodles, but Shane interrupted her again.
“If it’s my mess, then I’ll clean it up.” She watched as he lowered himself to the ground, fresh pain evident in his features every inch of the way. And she allowed him to struggle on his own as she removed her winter gear and pulled her hair up into a high ponytail. During that time, he made hardly a dent at all in the cleaning.
“Why am I here?” she demanded, stooping down and forcing him to look her in the eye. “If you’re going to insist on doing everything yourself, then why did you hire me?”
“I didn’t hire you, the SDRO hired you for me,” he reminded her with a muted grumble.
“Okay, fine, but regardless, I’m here to help. Can you just let me?” She glared at him still, but the hulking, muscular man refused to keep her gaze.
“If that’s how you want it, then be my guest,” he said, gesturing toward the remaining mess and almost losing his balance yet again in the process.
“First let me help you up,” she said.
He groaned but submitted as she looped his arm over her shoulder and pulled him to his feet. Despite his injuries, Shane was still strong and able to bear the brunt of his own weight once Lauren helped him to regain his balance. That was good, seeing as he easily outweighed her by eighty pounds. They were a study in contrasts. Him a large, lumbering, and wild-looking man. Her a small, trim woman whose appearance was neatly kept and movements graceful.
Shane stiffened, bringing them both to a stop. “No, not to the chair. I need to finish making dinner,” he argued.
“What’s for dinner? Spaghetti? I think I can manage that.” She took him to the small kitchen table and sat him down before his mess of papers.
He said nothing as she finished cleaning the debris from the checker-tiled floor and then making their dinner with the noodles that hadn’t already gone to waste. Placing a bowl of pasta marinara before him, she turned to go find solace in her room.
“Wait,” Shane said without looking up.
“Yes?”
“Join me for dinner at least.”
“Oh, so now you want to talk, do you?”
He shrugged and glanced at her for a brief moment, his ocean blue eyes clearly concealing secrets within their depths. “I want to learn about this stranger who will be living in my house, yes.”
“Okay then.” Lauren prepared a bowl for herself and sat opposite of him, nudging some papers out of the way to avoid turning them into impromptu placemats. “So what do you want to know?”
He put his fork down and stared at her head on. His eyes were unabashed in sharing their assessment—he didn’t trust her, not yet. “I want to know why you’re here,” he said.
“To help you. We’ve been over that.”
“But why? The organization said you were from New York, and we’ve also already been over the fact that you have no experience, so let me ask again: Why are you here?”
Well, if he didn’t trust her, then she didn’t trust him either. Why else would he be so naturally suspicious of her unless he had something to hide? With any luck, she could stay just long enough to help the dogs, uncover the mystery about her father’s past, and figure out what she wanted to do next. Then she could cut her losses with the grumpy Mr. Shane Ramsey and leave him far, far behind.
She met his eyes, refusing to blink or look away. “I’m here to do a job. That’s all you need to know.”
“I see. So that’s how you want it.” He smiled to himself, picked up his fork, and returned his attention to eating.
“That seems to be how you want it, and I’m happy to comply.” She raised her fork too, a challenge—she would take whatever he had to throw at her, but she wouldn’t take it sitting down.
“Very well,” he said.
“Very well.” They finished their meal in silence and then went their separate ways for the remainder of the evening.