Larger Than Life by Alison Kent (read the beginning after the end novel .txt) 📕

"I used to be a defense attorney." She hesitated, seeming to gather her bearings before going forward to say, "It's certainly not comparable to what the doc here does."

She said it so offhandedly that he didn't believe it. The nonchalance was one thing, but then there was the way she crossed her arms more defensively than before, holding in things she didn't want to say, things she didn't want him to know. Things he would have easily found out had his mind been anywhere near clear.

It wasn't, and so he had to let it go. Let her go. He turned to the side, raised up onto his good elbow, holding back the groan rolling out of his throat. "Listen. Whether it's your business or not, I owe you more than I can afford to repay. Can I at least buy you a beer when they spring me?"

She shook her head. "I don't drink." Then she shrugged. "Unless it's coffee. I've never been known to say no to that. Or to chocolate."

"Okay, then." It hurt to smile, but he did. "I'll come bearing chocolate."

"On one condition."

"Which is?"

"You leave with your gun in your hand." She took a quick step in reverse. "And you don't come back."

He'd have no need to, of course. But her insistence ran a lot of flags up a lot of poles. "Am I putting that much of a crimp in your lifestyle?"

"No. And I'd really like to keep it that way."

Having made the ten-mile drive from Ed's clinic to her own place in record time, Neva took the delivery detour that bypassed her house-cum-office, the acreage between here and there, and circled the property to the rear of the Barn. She parked, turned off the truck, and opened the door.

Candy, of course, had been pacing outside instead of working inside while she waited. The denim of her short pleated skirt bared a whole lot of naked mahogany brown leg. It also slapped against her bottom as she spun on the heels of the worn cowboy boots she wore that matched an ivory lace tank that fairly glowed against her dark skin.

"Damn you, Neva. A quick overnight trip, my ass." Five years younger than Neva's twenty-nine, Candy scolded like an urban mother of twelve. Her dark brown eyes narrowed as she shook a finger. "You were supposed to be back here by nine-thirty."

"What time is it?" Neva asked, though she knew perfectly well. She just didn't want to share all the details of the delay.

"It's noon! Noon! Argh!" Candy gestured wildly with both hands. "You had better swear to me here and now that you will never again turn off your radio when you know I am waiting for you."

Neva climbed from the cab and slammed the door before Candy climbed in and slammed her around. "I had an emergency."

"All the more reason not to be out of touch." The other woman's boots crunched on the gravel drive as she flounced, and then she lost her pique as curiosity set in. "What sort of emergency?"

"A dog on the road." Not a lie, not a whole truth. But since she had the dog with her . . . She walked to the back of the truck where FM lumbered to his feet and stuck his big head over the side of the bed. "He's a little loopy from having his jaw deadened and sewn back together."

She still could not believe she'd agreed to keep the dog. Especially when that guaranteed she'd be seeing Mick Savin again. Yes, there was the issue of his gun, but that she could've had delivered somehow or left somewhere for him to pick up. Not so the mutt.

Ed had stitched the gash that had split FM's jaw, given Neva antibiotics and instructions for his care—including keeping his wound dry when she bathed him. How nice of him to leave that task to her.

Candy followed and looked over with an imperious lift of brow. "You brought home a dog?"

Neva nodded, scraping back windblown strands of hair. "Doc Hill stitched him up but is short staffed this week with Lindsey vacationing with her parents. I told him we'd see the pooch got his meds and the care he needs until his owner shows up."

Leaning forward, Candy inspected FM's tags, sneezing when he nuzzled up to her cheek. "His tags are from an El Paso pound."

"I know," Neva said.

Candy turned and shoved both hands to her hips. "You rescue an abandoned dog on the side of the road, and you expect anyone to come looking for him, much less claim him?"

Neva wasn't quite ready to share the details of their new aquisition's ownership. Not when she knew so little about Mick Savin and his gun. The two women were partners and friends—a situation that made the decision to remain mum, to keep this secret that might affect them both, one not entirely guilt-free.

So all she said was, "We'll see."

Sighing, Candy pressed her nose to the dog's, sneezed again, and ruffled the fur of his ruff. "You know, a pet would be a great way to teach little Miss Mitchell what's up."

What was up was that Neva had made a huge mistake giving the girl a job when she'd shown up disheveled one morning and asked. "He's only a temporary pet, Candy."

"Trust me. She's only a temporary hire." Candy held up one finger. "But we don't have to share either fact with the little bitch. Er, brat."

Neva moved to the back of the truck and lowered the tailgate, hopped up next to the dog, and shoved forward the boxes of supplies to unload. "She's not working out so well, huh?"

"Unfortunately, no." Candy examined the labels, sorted the boxes accordingly. "Which brings me back to asking you again why you hired her. It's not like we really need the help."

"No, but she obviously did." As Candy left to get the hand truck from the Barn's porch, Neva jumped