Page 72 of Good Girls Don't Kiss and Tell (Rock Canyon, Idaho 7)

“Yes, but…they have children of their own, lives of their own, and the rest I wouldn’t give a dog I didn’t like.”

Gracie bit her lip to keep from laughing, which would have been very inappropriate. “Are you sure you want me? What if they change their mind?”

“They won’t. I guarantee it. Besides, as her legal guardian, I plan to relinquish my rights, and as long as no one contests it, you can file for guardianship, then adoption.”

Her heart wouldn’t stop drumming. “When?”

“I’d like to keep her through the holidays if it’s all right with you,” Margaret said. “And visitation.”

“Of course, that isn’t even a question.”

Margaret gave her a small smile. “According to the doctors, you shouldn’t have to deal with me long.”

“Stop, please.”

Margaret was quiet for several seconds, and Gracie broke the silence. “Can I see her? Soon, I mean.”

“Yes, I think that would be good. We can set it up and plan where to go from here.”

“Great. Oh, I brought Pip’s Christmas present with me. I left it in the car in case…well, in case this didn’t go well.”

Margaret smiled. “Why don’t you hang on to it and give it to her this weekend? We’ll make arrangements.”

“Thank you so much.” Gracie was so filled with warmth and excitement, she couldn’t wait to tell…

Eric.

She wanted to be able to call Eric and tell him all about it, but she’d been a shit. A lily-livered coward, and all over her own mixed feelings about what they were to each other. They were friends who occasionally fought, had sex, and confided in each other. There was nothing wrong with that. She just had to remember that was all this was.

* * *

Eric wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Gracie was avoiding him, but he’d be damned if he was going to let her know that it bothered him. He’d waited for her to call, to check in on him and see if he’d gotten a call from the shelter, but she hadn’t bothered. Just like he hadn’t checked in on her coffee date with Pip’s grandmother.

So, they were both stubborn idiots. At least his pride was intact.

As it turned out, he’d gotten the call that no one had claimed the dog and he was welcome to come pick him up. He was excited and nervous at the same time. The minute he’d met him, Eric had sensed a kinship with the shy, fuzzy dog, but hadn’t been sure until he’d touched him. If the owners had claimed him, Eric would have just chalked it up to sentimentality, but here he was, parked in front of the shelter. Things really did seem to happen for a reason.

Eric got out and went inside. The place was quiet compared to the bustle of last week, and the receptionist immediately smiled at him.

“You’re Eric, right?” she said.

He was a little surprised she’d remembered who he was, until he caught the look in her eye. The one that clearly said she was available and interested.

If only he was.

“Yeah, I’m here to pick up my dog.”

“I’ll have someone grab him for you.”

She called one of the volunteers over, who then went into the back. The woman leaned onto the counter, as close as she could get to him. “Do you know what you’re going to name him?”

“Not yet. I figured we’d get to know each other and something would come to mind.”

“I understand completely. I’ve been fostering a dog for three weeks, and I still haven’t come up with a name that really fits her. She’s all black and has mange, so I was kind of thinking Vada, for Darth Vader, but nothing sticks.”

Eric saw the guy holding his new dog’s leash, and a wide grin spread over his face. As if the dog recognized him, he started to trot faster, pulling on the leash. Eric found himself with his arms full of sixty pounds of soft fur and warm, wet kisses on his face.

“You’re sure he’s not yours?” the receptionist asked.

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