Page 103 of Redeeming Harmony

He laid his head back on his paws, staring mournfully at her as she made her sandwich. She took a huge bite, her stomach growling. The tomato slid out and landed on her shirt front with a wet splat.

“Shit.” She peeled the tomato off her shirt and ate it before wetting some paper towels and dabbing at the stain on her shirt. “I’m a mess, Winnie. I can’t believe I’m even allowed out in public on my -”

The knock on the door almost made her drop her sandwich. She set it on the counter and wiped off her hands on the ass of her jeans as Winston growled low in his throat.

“Oh, you’re a guard dog now, are you?” she asked as he stood and, limping slightly, followed her to the door.

She opened the door, happiness immediately infusing her body when she saw Nathan on the front porch. She hadn’t seen him since Wednesday, and it was embarrassing how much she’d missed him. “Nathan, hi! Are you taking a late lunch? Because I just… hey, what’s wrong?”

His face tight and drawn, Nathan said, “There’s a man here for Winston.”

Harper’s stomach coiled in on itself, the bite of sandwich she’d taken immediately trying to heave its way back up her throat. She swallowed hard. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Nathan stepped aside, and Harper stared at the man standing in the yard near the porch steps. Her body numb, Harper walked out onto the porch, Winston trailing behind her.

“There you are,” the man said. “Let’s go, Duke.” He whistled and patted his leg.

Harper stared down at Winston. The dog was leaning against her leg, and he vibrated like a tuning fork. He bowed his head, his ears down, his body curled into aCshape, and his tail wrapped around his body.

She rested a hand on his head, petting him gently as she studied the man. He was tall and broad shouldered with wind and sun weathered skin. He had a hard look about him, and nothing on his face suggested happiness at seeing his dog again.

“C’mon, Duke,” he said impatiently.

“How do I know you’re his owner?” Harper said.

“Excuse me?” The man raised one dark eyebrow, his face suggesting he wasn’t used to being questioned, especially not from a woman.

“Where’s your proof that Winston - this dog - is yours?”

The man looked her up and down. “You know, in my fucking day, young snots like you obeyed their elders. Wouldn’t think of talking back.”

She bristled but kept her cool. “I’m asking a simple question.”

The man glanced at Nathan, who, still looking sick to his stomach, said, “He had some pictures of Winston at his farm.”

“His name is Duke, and he’s my fucking dog. Hand him over,” the man said.

“He was starving,” Harper said. “He was so thin you could count every rib when I found him.”

The man shrugged. “Ain’t my fault if the other dogs are faster to the food dish than him.”

“Why did it take you so long to come forward?” Harper said.

“Is this twenty fucking questions?” the man said. “Just give me my fucking dog, girl.”

“Answer the question,” Nathan said, stepping in front of Harper and Winston when the man walked closer to the porch.

The man rolled his eyes. “I own a fucking farm, all right? Figured the dog run off and got killed by coyotes. He’s a real pussy, that one. My neighbour saw his info on some rescue website yesterday and told me where he was. I’m here to collect him. Pass him the fuck over, so I can get on my way.”

Nathan stared down at her, and bile rose in her throat. “Nathan,” she whispered. “We can’t.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Nathan said. “Winston belongs to him.”

“Duke!” the man barked. “Get your ass down here now.”

Winston whined and cowered against Harper. It was nearly impossible to speak past the lump in her throat, but Harper croaked out, “He’s afraid of you.”

“The dog’s afraid of everything. He’s a pussy, I told you. Causes me nothing but trouble.”

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