Cason was dressed casually, just like Emmett and Zandra—T-shirt, jeans. Emmett reached him first and reached out a hand but instead of a formal handshake they did that man handshake with cupped hands and thumbs pointing back at themselves instead of up in the air.

How did they know they were supposed to do that? Zandra offered a wave because she wasn’t really comfortable touching him again, which he returned with a smile. Zandra could barely hug another woman without one of them poking the other in the eye or the boob or getting their fingers caught when one tried to go high on the side that she should've gone low. She supposed not all guys could just naturally know when to do what handshake, but these two had no problem.

They introduced themselves by name then Cason said, "How's Fiyero doing? Not that I expect any change, I'm still trying to get to know him and figure out what he needs.”

“I have no idea,” said Zandra. “I haven't seen them yet today.” She was a little embarrassed that the dog coach might think it was normal for them to sleep until almost nine in the morning.

“Who's that on your shirt?" asked Emmett as Zandra punched in the numbers to open the garage door.

"Carbon Leaf," said Cason with a touch of excitement in his voice. "You know them?"

"No," said Emmett. "Do they put on a good show?"

Cason made a shrug-face. "I have no idea. Didn't discover them until after I got the shirt.”

“Was it a gift?" asked Emmett.

“No,” said Cason, “I got it at Goodwill.”

Zandra had been to Goodwill plenty. Growing up they had called it Saks Flint Avenue. When she and Emmett were first married she bought half of the things they didn't get on their wedding registry there. But it had been a while. With Emmett taking care of them so well, she didn't have to spend the time digging through shelves of material looking for that one special item.

But the way that Cason admitted the shirt was used and came from a thrift store, was completely shame free. It was a style statement. She had barely noticed, but yesterday he was wearing a t-shirt with the mitten outline of Michigan that read, Home is where the hand is.

He continued, "I actually get all my shirts there. The only thing I love better than rescuing a throwaway shirt is rescuing a throwaway dog.”

“What kind of dog do you have?" asked Emmett. "Or dogs probably.”

“None actually.”

“You get enough of other people's dogs at work?”

Cason said, “I had a dog until six months ago. My fiancée and I actually. I bought it for her as a gift once things got serious between us.”

“What happened to it?" asked Emmett.

“I'll spare you the details, even though it is a heckuva story, but my fiancée decided a few days before the wedding that she’d rather have her pick of bad boys than just one of me.”

Emmett shook his head. "And she got the dog in the split?”

“Yup. And that's not the worst of it. The house she moved into had an inadequate fence. I offered over and over to fix it for her, even though things were so far over between us, but she refused. Said her new boyfriend was handier than me anyway. He’d to get any day now.”

Fiyero and Elfie came strolling out of the garage sniffing everybody present, collecting ear scratches and pats on the head, cleaning the slobber off their jowls on whoever would let them, then Elfie went to do her inspection of the yard as Fiyero settled under Cason's firm ear scratching.

Cason went on with the story. "I think she must have meant the new guy was handsy, not handy, because he never got around to the fence. Spectre got out, got into the road, and got killed.”

“Dude.” In man language, Emmett said paragraphs in one word. Zandra didn’t need translation to be punched in the heart by the story and by Emmett’s heartfelt reaction.

Emmett slapped Cason on the back. “You’re a walking, talking country song.”

That’s not what you say to someone who’s been through that!

Cason laughed. “Wait until you hear the rest of the story.” As if it was already decided they were going to see each other frequently for the foreseeable future.

Emmett got along with everyone, well, anyone he wanted to get along with, and everyone liked him. If Emmett wanted them to like him. But Zandra could tell every time if it was sincere or forced, and there was no salesman or fake friend in her husband this morning. Having not gotten his way in the bedroom this morning, or last night for that matter, Zandra expected him to be … pouty. Maybe that wasn’t the right word, but she didn’t expect him to be making best friends.

Possibly the two most charismatic guys in Michigan were standing in her yard, but they were so different she wouldn’t be surprised if they clashed hard. It boiled down to Emmett actually liking this guy. Who wouldn’t? He had everything going for him in a totally laid back, humble sort of way. She noticed the lack of a ring on his finger. He’d make someone a lucky lady someday.

Cason looked over at Zandra, startling her. The startle made her blush. She had no reason to jump just because he looked at her. “Do you have papers from the vet visits?” He knelt down to look closely at Fiyero’s knee wound.

“Yeah, let me grab ‘em.” She bolted inside, wondering why it felt so good to leave the two men behind. The papers were all together in a file in the office, which only took her a few seconds to find.

When she went back outside Cason was listening raptly to something Emmett was saying. His eyes blipped toward Zandra. Emmett did a quick shoulder check then leaned in to finish what he was saying.

“Let me stop you there,” Cason told Emmett. “I don’t get jokes. It’s a medical condition.”

Emmett was left with his mouth half open, and a half smile on his face, but before he could ask if Cason was serious, Zandra handed over the papers. She caught a whiff of clean woodsiness on him and stepped out of smelling range.

“When was the first time you took him in?” asked Cason.

“About six months ago,” said Zandra. “Those papers should be in chronological order.”

Still giving Fiyero some ear love, Cason started reading the first page. When he had to turn to the second page, it took both hands, and Fiyero quickly let him know he wasn’t done getting scratched by just about knocking him over with his head.

Elfie came back and Zandra started in on her. She didn’t feel like looking at Emmett at the moment; she was too embarrassed for him. She leaves him alone for five seconds and he’s telling locker room jokes. It might have been one he told her before, but he’d already learned she was not an accommodating audience. Maybe he was right and they were adults and she should grow up. Maybe not. She still didn’t like him talking secretly right in front of her.

“They tested him for allergies, it looks like.” Cason kept his eyes on the pages and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Food, environmental, even human products like shampoo and perfume. No allergies.”

“Hm,” said Cason. “And blood tests to look for cancer?”

The sense of frustration Zandra usually felt when talking about the helplessness of Fiyero’s situation didn’t come. There was hope. “Blood test, physical exams, ultrasounds. They didn’t find a single cancer cell.”

Cason had a hundred more questions and the longer she stayed there, Zandra realized that one of the things she loved most about Emmett—his confident way of putting people at ease—this guy had it twice as naturally. It was a big part of what made her uncomfortable. She saw good looking guys every day; why was this one so different?

Zandra gave Elfie one last deep ear rub, then stepped over to Emmett and held his hand. And wrapped a hand around his bicep. And leaned against him as Cason continued the questions.

“Wow, they were thorough,” said Cason. His face was thoughtful and he patted the rolled-up papers against an open palm. “That’s good, but it doesn’t give us much to work with.”

Rubbing Emmett’s arm with her free hand, Zandra said, “Is there … can we … do anything?”

Cason didn’t answer immediately. And while that worried her, she appreciated a sincere answer. “I still don’t know. Let me spend some more time with them.”

“Okay,” said Zandra. “I’m going to run inside and work on breakfast.” If it was anyone else in the world, she would offer food and hospitality. A friend, family member, stranger. But she sensed it wasn’t appropriate in this situation. So, she turned without another word, and once inside, immediately felt more stable.

The eggs and potatoes were still out, so she pulled out the Canadian bacon and English muffins.

“Maybe I should throw in some French toast or Belgian waffles. Make it an international affair.”

“It all sounds delicious,” said Emmett as he came into the kitchen. “Cason said he wanted some time alone with the dogs.”

“I hope after everything we’ve been through with Fiyero, Cason can do something.”

Emmett swiped a slice of Canadian bacon out of her hand. “Regardless, he’s a guy I could go drink a beer with. Too bad he’s not a big sports fan.”

How in the world had they covered all that in the two minutes they’d had alone together? Maybe Emmett picked it up from unspoken man body language.

“Thanks so much for hiring him,” said Zandra, stuffing another rolled up Canadian bacon slice into his mouth. “I think we should get someone else.”

“What?” said Emmett around a mouthful of meat. “Give him some time. Seems like a thorough dude. I’d hire him at Cornerstone in a heartbeat, no matter what the position was for.”

Zandra tossed the sliced English muffins into the toaster. “He’s an attractive guy. I don’t like being around him.” It wasn’t easy admitting all that, but she always tried to be honest.

“Say what?”

“I don’t like having him around.”

“Did he try something? Say something?”

She saw his hands grip into fists. “Emmett, you make me sizzle like this,” Zandra slapped some Canadian bacon onto the hot griddle, “and it’s nothing like what I feel for you, but I’d be more comfortable without him around.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Emmett got a smile on his face like an eagle looking at a mouse trapped in its nest. “Double standard much?”

“What?”

“Yesterday you were about to rip my head off for doing the same thing.”

“What!” Zandra could feel flames shooting out of her eyes. “You don’t see the difference? I’m doing everything I can to stay away! You ran into danger like a kid chasing an ice cream truck, and you did everything you could to hide it from me!”

“Calm d—”

“Do not tell me to calm down,” said Zandra, lowering her voice and downgrading the fire she had been shooting from her eyes to mere heat furnaces. “It is not the same.”

“Listen, you don’t have to fire him,” said Emmett. “He can come when I’m home or he can just stay outside with the dogs.”

“It’s not worth it,” said Zandra. It was already clear that their marriage meant much more to her than it did to him, but all she was trying to do was hold herself to a higher standard than she could ever wish he would do. “Our marriage is worth more than the risk.”

“Zandra, you’re not being reasonable. Just because you see one cute guy, you think you’re going to just run off with him?”

She was so tired of being told that she was out of control, so she did the only thing she could—she took a deep breath and let all the tension in her body ooze out. Let him try saying she was overreacting now. “No, Emmett. I don’t think I would ever do that. But just to be sure, just because our marriage is worth this much to me, I won’t go near the flame.”

“You’re married, not dead. You can’t help how you feel.”

“No, but I can help what I do about it.” She didn’t want to pour any more feelings out for him to argue with, deny, or mock but if she wasn’t open with him, she was a hypocrite. “Yes, I see attractive people every day, but there’s normally not this attraction that I felt around Cason.”

“Zandra and Cason sitting in a tree …” He was still having a grand, superior time.

“It’s not funny, Emmett. You think I want to fire him?”

“Hey,” said Emmett, coming around the corner and taking her in his arms. “I don’t expect you to sequester yourself away in this house and never look at any other men. We aren’t blind. We’re hot-blooded people.”

Zandra wasn’t an expert at man talk but that translation was easy: I don’t want you to expect me to not look at other women. She knew what the third item on her Marriage To Do list was—they needed professional help to get them back on the same page, whether it was Pastor Jack or a marriage counselor.

“We do have to sequester inappropriate feelings,” said Zandra, using his strong physical presence as a support to bolster herself against his argument. “I am not going to allow them.” She reached for her phone and pulled up the Canis Amare number.

“You’re really doing it. So now it becomes a game of chicken to see who will be the bigger martyr.”

Zandra looked away and listened to the phone ring.