“You stole my dog.”

Eric looked at the mangy, ancient creature in question and bit back a laugh at Leda’s accusation.

“You’ve caught me. I intended to ransom him for…” He paused and crooked a baby finger to the corner of his mouth. “One million dollars. Pay up, missy.”

“You think it’s funny?” She took a step forward and poked him in the chest with a little pointy finger.

“Ow.” He rubbed the spot. “I did. But I believe I may have been mistaken.”

“I’ll assume the flirty shepherd is yours, and the reason for the look of utter stupidity on Jackson’s face.”

She bent down and covered the old dog’s ears. “You didn’t hear that, honey-pie. You can’t help being male.”

“On behalf of males everywhere,” said Eric, “I take exception to the sentiment. Not to mention that I doubt he hears much of anything, much less understands it.”

The color of outrage suited her.

“I’m busy enough looking after things,” she said, tossing her head in the direction of Chad’s nearest neighbors, “without having to chase over Hades’s half-acre after this goober-dinged dog because your dog’s roaming around shaking her tailgate-”

“Goober-dinged?”

He didn’t mean to laugh. He honestly didn’t. Maybe she was housesitting or something while the owners were gone. She actually looked distressed, like the anger coated a nugget of fear, but the way she spoke, well, it pretty much walked up and demanded laughter.