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fallen asleep in Toby’s bed. The Bean had one half, Tank the other, both blissfully sleeping, limbs and paws akimbo.
    Josh, bigger than both of them put together times four, had a tiny little corner of the bed. And he meant tiny. His feet were numb from hanging off, and the Berenstain Bears book was stuck to his face. Wincing at his sore bones, he shifted, and at the movement, Tank snuffled and stretched.
    And farted.
    The bedroom was instantly stink-bombed. “Jesus Christ, dog, you smell like a barn.”
    Tank just gave him a pug grin.
    Josh shook his head and eased out of the bed, pulling the covers up over Toby, who was sleeping like he did everything in life—with 100 percent total abandonment.
    Envying him that, Josh showered and went downstairs.
    Nina was cleaning the kitchen and making Toby’s lunch.
    “I need you to walk Tank today,” he said. “Twice. Once midmorning and once in the afternoon. He sure as hell better learn to hold it that long if he wants to live.”
    Nina carefully closed Toby’s Star Wars lunch box. “No,” she said.
    “Okay, okay, I’m only kidding. I’m not going to actually kill him.” Probably.
    “No, I won’t walk that dog.” Nina was four and a half feet tall, Italian, complete with accent and snapping black eyes that could slay one alive. The housekeeper also possessed the baffling ability to organize Josh’s place so that it looked like humans lived there instead of a pack of wild animals. She didn’t cook, though. And she didn’t mother. The sole reason she made Toby’s lunch was because Toby was the only one in the house she actually liked. “I do not care for that dog,” she said. “He licks me.”
    “He’s a puppy,” Josh said. “That’s what puppies do.”
    “He’s a nightmare.”
    Well, she had him there.

Chapter 4

     
      
    The 12-Step Chocoholics Program: Never be more than 12 steps away from chocolate!
      
     
    H alf an hour later, Josh had gotten Toby onto the school bus, then driven to the office, still having no idea what he was going to do about the damn dog. He would have thumbed through his contact list, except he hadn’t replaced his phone yet.
    He could rehire Grace. She needed the money but hiring her again would involve being sucked into her sexy vortex. Hell. He left his car, and instead of heading inside the building, he crossed the small side street to the hospital, then walked around to the old west wing, which was now the Health Services Center, run by Mallory Quinn.
    She smiled when he entered. “Hey, Doc. Tell me you’re here to give me a shift.”
    “No. Don’t you have Dr. Wells today?”
    “He ended up with an emergency in Seattle and can’t show.”
    Shit. Josh eyed the filled waiting room. “Martin didn’t get you a replacement?”
    Mallory shook her head. They both knew Martin Wells thought he was too good to give his time to the HSC, that he felt the ER was lucky to get him once a week on contract from Seattle. “I don’t know what I have waiting for me in the office,” Josh said. “But I’ll try to get back over here.”
    “Thanks,” she said gratefully. “But if you’re not here to work, what can I do for you?”
    “I need to locate Grace.”
    Mallory arched a brow. “Grace?”
    “I need her dog walking services again.”
    “But you fired her yesterday.”
    He grimaced. He’d been sort of hoping she wouldn’t know that. Mallory was an amazing nurse, the fiancée of one of his closest friends, and she was as fierce as a mother about the people she cared about—Grace being one of those people. “Yeah, I might have been hasty on that,” he said.
    Mallory studied him. “She’s something, isn’t she?”
    Yes. Yes, Grace was something all right. “So, do you have her number? My phone died in the ocean.”
    “Yes, I have her number.”
    He waited but she didn’t give it to him. He looked at his watch. “Mallory.”
    “You have to promise to apologize for hurting her feelings yesterday.”
    “I