Page 77 of The Luminosity of Loriana Harper

“You have the key I gave you?” Her voice was breathy.

“Yeah.”

“Great. Use it. I’m home at five-thirty. Come early, come late, just…plan to come.”

No mistaking her meaning with the twinkle in her eye.

“Yeah.”

With that, she pulled away.

“I’m at the ranch this afternoon.”

She gave him a little wave. “So later. No problem. I’ll serve meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and asparagus.”

“Sounds amazing.” He didn’t necessarily like the idea of her cooking after working all day, and he planned to do some of his own. He was pretty proficient, and he hatched a plan to sneak into her house tomorrow afternoon and prepare dinner for her. He could do that.

As she drove away, he sauntered up the road and back to his condo. He’d received a text from his supplier that everything he needed had arrived. He needed to call Kennedy to confirm she could make room for him, but he suspected she would.

She did, and an hour later, he pulled the van into the ranch parking lot.

A grinning Labrador retriever greeted him with a wagging tail.

Rainbow soon followed—her black hair shiny in the sun. “Kennedy said fifteen minutes. Mind if I give you the two-cent tour?”

“I suspect it’ll be worth more than that. Yes, I’d be happy for a tour.”

To his shock, she linked her arm in his.

As she guided them toward the barn, she grinned. “This place is Kennedy’s pride and joy. I have to say I love it as well.”

“You’ve helped a lot of people.”

She glanced up, eyeing him curiously.

He shrugged sheepishly. “I do my research. Although many of the glowing reviews are by anonymous people—which makes sense—some are from people willing to put their names out there.”

“True. Mission City is a small community. We’re protective of our own. If someone needs to come out here, we take good care of them. If they choose to share their experience, we leave that to them. It’s not all sunshine and roses. Some patients deal with chronic mental illness—curing the disease isn’t possible. But we work to make their lives manageable.” She released her grasp on him to open the barn door. “Personally, I think Kennedy, Justin, Denise, and Avery are miracle workers.”

Mitch couldn’t disagree. This was work he could respect but have no interest in being part of. The idea of dealing with other people’s problems all day overwhelmed him.

Rainbow beckoned him inside. “This is where Tiffany hangs out when she has a litter of puppies.” She petted the dog on the head. “Dad Monty comes around, once a year or so, when she’s in heat. Many of her puppies wind up as service or search-and-rescue dogs.”

“You trying to sell me one?”

She looked mock offended, but he caught the glint in her pale blue eyes.

“I’d never. Do I think most people who own pets have better lives? Sure. There’s something enriching about having a pet. Being responsible for caring for another can be the impetus to care for oneself.”

Now she sounded a bit like a brochure. Yet he couldn’t question her sincerity. “My building only allows small dogs.”

She tisked. “That’s a real shame. Still, little dogs are pretty darn cute.”

“I work unpredictable hours.”

“That’s why finding a reliable dog walker is important. Plenty of teenagers around who’d love the job. Or you can find someone who wants a dog but can’t have one.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

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