A Groom of One's Own (Appies, #3)

by Emma St. Clair

Eli looks up, his shoulders more slumped and his expression darker than when I left the room. But he perks up immediately when he sees Doris, his face brightening and softening at the same time. And dang it—I’ve never been jealous of a dog, but I sure am now. I’d like to be the one putting that look on his face. The one who walks into a room and has that kind of impact. I gently slip the lead back over her head, setting her loose in the small room. “Eli, this is Doris. Doris, Eli. I’m not quite sure how this will go. She’s new and still getting the hang of things, so she might not …” There’s no need to finish my sentence. With the kind of grin that could disarm nuclear warheads, Eli holds his arms out wide. Doris, smart girl that she is, climbs right into his lap. I can’t blame her. If Eli were opening those arms to me, I’d walk right into them too. No, I’d run and take a flying leap. Eli doesn’t move while Doris settles in his lap, as though sensing her need to take things at her own pace. Slowly, he lowers his arms, bracketing her in while still giving her plenty of space. She sniffs one of his big hands, then the other. Eli waits, motionless but still smiling, letting Doris run the show. She tilts her head to look up at him. Then, slowly and tentatively, she stretches up and gives the blond scruff on his chin a solid lick. Even his chuckle is soft, as though he knows a full laugh might scare Doris. “That’s a good girl,” he says. My heart gives a solid thump. I ignore it...