Quinn stood still. She held out one hand, palm up. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted this magnificent creature to like her—to approve of her—until this moment. Ghost left Milo and padded across the living room. He halted in front of her and sniffed her hand. The room fell pin-drop quiet. Quinn didn’t move. His hot breath warmed her palm, his whiskers tickling her skin. His black nose was warm and dry. He was different than most dogs. All the dogs she knew were jumpy, energetic, friendly, and eager to please. Ghost was regal. A solemn, serious dog. His eyes shone with a keen intelligence.
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