Jiggs jumped over the back of the couch with his leash in his mouth and landed on Harley’s stomach. Harley let out a loud, “Argh!”
“Jiggs!” Piper tried to shoo him off, but Jiggs buried his face in Harley’s armpit and Piper swore the dog was clinging to Harley for dear life. Jiggs looked like he had a French manicure on his big, stubby toes. He was all gray with a white chest, a streak of white down his snout and around his nose, and white tips on each toe.
“It’s okay,” Harley ground out, shifting Jiggs’s feet away from his crotch, wincing as he repositioned his leg. Jiggs licked Harley’s face, and Harley scratched his dog’s head with both hands, kissing his snout.
Lucky dog . . .
Holy cow. Where did that come from?
Harley patted the dog’s back, smiling groggily up at Piper.
“You spoil him rotten,” she snapped, more harshly than she meant to. But they were both so damn cute, she struggled to keep her worries about those unexpected thoughts in the forefront of her mind.
He winked flirtatiously and said, “I’d spoil you, too, if you’d let me.”
She rolled her eyes and turned away to put the instructions and papers on the coffee table and try to figure out why, when he’d said things like that a million times, she was suddenly thinking a little harder about his words. This was ridiculous. She was just feeling bad that he was hurt and had so much on his plate right now. That had to be it.
She put a hand on her hip and said, “Just don’t complain when Jiggs does it again and lands on your ankle—or your junk.”
A spark of heat flamed in his eyes, and he opened his mouth to speak.
She held up her hand and said, “Don’t. I don’t want to hear any more loopy snippets from you. Got it?”
He closed his mouth and looked at Jiggs, whispering, “She loves me. She’s just fighting it.”
“Dream on, Dutch.” Piper looked up as Jolie skulked down the stairs.
Jolie stood on the bottom riser, holding on to the railing as if ready to flee. “Uncle Harley, did you go to the store today?”
“Crap,” Harley said. “Sorry, honey. I didn’t have time, but there should be more apples in the drawer.”
“Gross,” Jolie said, and she moped back up the steps.
“Let me guess,” Piper said. “You need me to go to the grocery store?”
“Only if you don’t want the girls to starve.”
Jiggs pushed his snout into Harley’s cheek, and Harley petted him.
“Should I let him out before he pees on you?” Piper asked.
“You can try, but he won’t go,” Harley said, stroking the dog’s back. “He’s used to going on an afternoon walk.”
As if on cue, Jiggs lifted his chin, the leash hanging out of his mouth, and he whimpered. Both he and Harley looked at Piper with pleading eyes.
“Of course he is,” she said with a sigh.
“And an evening walk before bed.” Harley stroked Jiggs’s back and said, “Right, buddy?”
Piper rolled her eyes. “I really need to have a talk with your mother about how you were raised. Remind me to warn your future wife to be prepared for spoiled kids and dogs.”
Jiggs barked and crawled across Harley’s stomach, staring up at Piper with his big dark eyes, his floppy, pointed ears adding another pleading dose of cuteness. When he cocked his head to the side at the same time Harley did, she had to laugh.
She grabbed the leash and said, “What have I gotten myself into?”
A few hours later they ordered pizza, eating around the coffee table so Harley wouldn’t have to hobble to the kitchen. Piper made a list of their schedules and realized there was going to be a heck of a lot more to helping Harley than she’d thought. At least she’d remembered to pick up his truck when she’d taken Jiggs for his walk, so that was one less item for her list. But it was the little things that were giving her more of a hard time. Harley had asked her to help him to the bathroom earlier, and when she’d handed him the crutches, he’d said they were annoying. He hadn’t liked her snappy comeback: They’re not the only thing that’s annoying. He’d grabbed the crutches and hobbled to the bathroom, but she’d felt guilty, and when he was done, she’d helped him back to the couch. It was strange seeing Harley unable to fend for himself. She wanted to tough-love him back to his strong, capable self, but knew she couldn’t do that when his ankle was so messed up, which meant she was stuck with feelings she wasn’t sure what to do with.
“My soccer sleepover is Saturday night.” Jolie looked at Harley and said, “Can I still go?”
“Why wouldn’t you be able to go?” Harley asked. “Are you planning on robbing a bank between now and then? Going to get thrown in the slammer?”
The triumphant light in Harley’s eyes, and Sophie’s giggle, told of the funny-uncle status he thought the comment would add to.
Unfortunately, Jolie’s shoulders slumped. “I mean because I need a ride there and back and you can’t drive.”
“But I can,” Piper said, and she added Jolie’s soccer sleepover to her list.
“You don’t mind?” Jolie asked tentatively.
“Of course not. I’m happy to pitch in. Harley, do you have a sleeping bag she can use?”
“Sure do,” he said.
Jolie looked horrified. “Nobody brings sleeping bags.”
Piper looked at Harley, who shrugged. “Okay. No sleeping bag,” she said. “What time is the party?”
“Right after our last game, which is at two,” Jolie said.
“Two o’clock soccer game and then the party—got it. This will be fun. I haven’t been to a school soccer game in . . . well . . . ever.”
Harley chuckled, and then his expression turned serious. He turned his glassy eyes on Piper and said, “Piper was too busy fixing people’s drywall and helping the church paint over graffiti, and whatever other repairs needed doing that a teenage girl could handle.”
Piper was stunned. How did he know about the things she’d done while he was away at college? It wasn’t like they’d hung out together back then. And why was he looking at her like he could see her thoughts? She tore her gaze away, picked up a slice of pizza, and chomped into it, wondering what kind of superpowers were in those pain meds.
“Jo, can you get me a phone number to touch base with the parents who are hosting the party?” Harley asked.
“Okay,” she said in a resigned voice.
Piper felt Harley watching her as she added the soccer game to her list. He wouldn’t be able to drive until he could put pressure on his ankle, which the doctor had told him could take anywhere from a week to several weeks, depending on how much he stayed off it. When he’d taken off the wrap to ice his ankle before dinner, his entire foot was so swollen, it looked fluid filled. He’d taken off the splint and had refused to put it back on after he’d iced his foot. He’d claimed it bothered him too much to wear it. She was determined to keep him off that foot and help him heal.
“Sophie, are you in any sports or other extracurricular activities?” Piper asked.
Sophie bit into her slice of pizza and shook her head. “I don’t like sports.”