The Hamilton Heir. Valerie HansenЧитать онлайн книгу.
lit hallway.
Dawn grabbed the dog’s collar and tugged, yelling, “Beau! Down.” He yielded easily.
To Tim she said, “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” He was wiping his face and seemed short of breath.
“I’m so sorry. Beau’s usually very good about staying inside. I didn’t think he’d burst out like that. He must have heard my voice and…” And sensed how nervous I am, she finished silently.
The astonished expression lingering on Tim’s face made her grin in spite of the embarrassing situation. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I think so. Boy, does he have bad breath!” Tim stared at the now-lethargic-looking animal seated at her feet and panting as if it had just chased down and captured a man-eating lion. “What is he?”
“A dog.”
“I’d already figured out that part. What I mean is, what are you doing with an animal the size of an elephant in your little apartment? Does your landlord know?”
“Yes. I’m allowed to have one pet as long as the other neighbors aren’t bothered by any noise. Beau’s so quiet I doubt most of them even know he’s here.”
“Beau?”
“Short for Beauregard. A proper Southern name, don’t you think? Beau was my brother’s dog. After the terrible accident I told you about, Phil didn’t want Mom to have to deal with caring for Beau, too, so he asked me to take him in.”
“And, of course, you did.”
“Sure. He’s a wonderful companion. Very gentle.”
Tim was brushing himself off as if contact with the mastiff had left him muddy. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I haven’t had much experience with dogs and such.”
Dawn was aghast. “You never had a pet when you were a little boy?”
He shook his head. “I think the girls had some goldfish once. I can’t remember for sure.”
“That is so sad.”
Shrugging, Tim continued to brush at his dark slacks. “Not to me, it isn’t. We had plenty of other interests, like school and sports. I never felt I was missing anything by not having a dog shedding all over the furniture and chewing up my shoes.”
“Well, you were,” Dawn said.
She guided Beau toward the apartment door with a light touch on his collar and urged him to enter ahead of her. As she followed, she noted that Tim was still standing in the dim, narrow hallway, staring after her. His expression made her wonder if he was having trouble digesting her candid criticism of his childhood.
Probably. Tim wasn’t very good at recognizing the wisdom of ideas that differed from his own, no matter how sensible they were. The Hamilton way was the only way, according to him, and, sadly, he usually refused to listen to any opinions to the contrary.
Dawn spent a restless night. She had belatedly come to the realization she didn’t have a ride to work the following morning and had spent hours trying to decide what to do about it. No way was she going to ask Tim to come and get her. No, sir. Not after the way his compliment about her hair had shaken her up. And putting the whole incident out of her mind was beyond impossible. So she’d phoned her friend Gabi Valencia, and begged Gabi to give her a ride into Davis Landing on her way to her job at the hospital’s administration office.
Gabi picked her up early, as Dawn had requested. “You should have called me yesterday, when you found out your car was out of commission,” Gabi said. “I’d have helped you with the meals. There’s plenty of room in my van.”
Too weary to deal with the teasing she knew would ensue if she told Gabi everything, Dawn decided to hold back some of the details of her unsettling evening. She wrapped her light jacket more tightly around herself and held it there, her arms crossed. “I would have asked you, but I thought Talia had soccer practice on Monday nights.”
“That’s old news. Both my girls change their minds so often it drives me loca.” She smiled over at Dawn. “So, how did it go with you and the boss man last night?”
Dawn’s head snapped around. “How did you know he was involved?”
“Small town. Big, talkative church,” Gabi said with a smile. “I probably knew who you were with before you made your first meal delivery.”
“Probably. It was quite an evening.”
“Bad?”
“Not exactly.” Dawn was shaking her head slowly, pensively. “Tim—Mr. Hamilton—was a perfect gentleman. And he related well to the oldsters, especially Stuart Meyers.”
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