“Thanks for coming and saving me. That was nice of you.”

“Nice had nothing to do with it,” Alison said. “Now you owe me a favor.” She moved to the front door to go out into the night and . . .

Came face-to-face with the man she missed beyond bearing.

Behind her, Emma made a sound, but Alison didn’t even breathe. All she could do was stare up at Ryan.

He had one hand above him, braced on the doorjamb, the other holding Killer against his chest, his tall, leanly muscled body at ease and confident. He was always at ease and confident, whether he was wearing his reading glasses to look over a set of engineering plans, or chasing a baseball, or in bed. Maybe especially in bed. The man made love like he did everything else, with dedicated purpose, easy affection, and utter abandon. Anything goes. Nothing outside his comfort zone.

It’d been addicting.

He was addicting.

He wore jeans and a leather jacket, his hair wind tousled, his dark eyes calm. Ryan didn’t waste a lot of energy with things like worry and anxiety, and certainly not the bone-deep self-doubt that sometimes threatened to drown her.

His gaze met hers and slowly trailed south, which was when she remembered what she looked like, and with an undignified squeak, she jumped behind the door and shut it.

“Mature,” Emma said.

“Shh! Maybe he’ll leave.”

“He’s not going to leave,” he said through the door.

Alison bonked her head on the wood several times. “You should have called,” she said.

“If you’re with a guy in there, just say so,” Ryan said.

Tempting as it was to her pride to let him think that, she couldn’t do it. “No. I’m . . . not dressed for company.”

“I’ve already seen you. And since when am I company?”

“Since you dumped me.”

“Alison. Open the door.”

“I’m wearing laundry-day clothes.”

“So? I’ve seen you in nothing.”

Alison looked over at Emma, who was grinning. Alison gave her the “shoo” hands.

Emma didn’t shoo, instead she stood there riveted as she soaked up every word. Alison rolled her eyes and turned back to the door. “I look good in nothing. I don’t look good in laundry clothes.”

Ryan gave a rough laugh. “You look great in nothing. But you look cute when you’re not all done up in your armor. I like it.”

Emma covered her mouth with her hand to hide her laugh. Alison jabbed a finger at her to knock it off. “Cute?” she repeated back to Ryan. “You need to take that back.”

“Can’t. Also, the way you look right now is actually one of my favorite looks on you.”

This finally got her opening the door again. “Yeah?”

Ryan looked Alison over from wild hair to her bare toes and smiled. “Yeah. And definitely cute.”

“You’re a nut.” A nut who owned her heart . . .

Ryan caught sight of Emma and nodded to her. “Hello. You’re the new partner.”

“Emma Harris,” Alison told him, watching Emma smile easily and welcoming in an effortless way Alison couldn’t have managed on her best day. Maybe she should be taking lessons from Emma instead of Google. “We’re working late.”

“Well, one of us is,” Emma teased. “The other is flirting.”

“I’m not—” Alison started, then sighed when Ryan laughed along with Emma. Then her so-called partner caught sight of Alison’s face, clearly read the murderous intent, and smirked. “I’ll be in the back if you need anything.”

Alison waited until they were alone. “What are you doing here?” She cupped Killer’s face and kissed her little button nose. “Hi, baby. It’s so good to see you.”

“Thanks, baby,” Ryan said.

She rolled her eyes, but those two words, spoken in that low sexy voice of his, made her quiver. And ache. She missed their late nights in bed together, talking. Not talking. He’d made her feel good, inside and out. She hated that she hadn’t done the same for him. “I thought you were on a date.”

“Why?”

“Because you were at Whiskey River.”

“And you know this because . . .”

Alison winced. “I might still have you on Find My Friends.”

“I was there with Simon.” His gaze held hers. “I’m here because I’ve got an early morning with a new client. I was wondering if you wanted to take Killer for me.”

“It’s almost midnight. How did you even know where I would be?”

Ryan gave a small smile. “I’ve still got you on Find My Friends as well.”

She stared at him for a beat, saw the reluctant good humor in his eyes, and smiled back. She took Killer from him and kissed the dog’s face all over.

Killer smiled her rare, sweet doggy smile and soaked up the love like it was her due.

“I missed you so much,” Alison told her. “You ridiculous mini Napoleon you.”

“She missed you too.”

Alison looked up into his eyes. “Thanks,” she said softly. “Means a lot.”

He nodded and turned to go.

“Ryan?”

He paused.

“Do you really have an early morning, or did Simon open his big fat trap and tell you that I’m sad?”

“Are you sad?”

“No,” she lied.

He tugged playfully on a strand of her wild and crazy hair. “What if I told you I was sad too?”

She stopped breathing.

He stared at her for a long beat, then dropped his hand. “Night, Alison.” And then he was gone.

“But . . . are you?” she whispered at the closed door. Damn, now her heart hurt. He was sad. And that was on her. She set Killer down, who immediately raced over to a sleeping Hog and started yelling at him with her shrill bark.

Hog jumped up and tried to run around the counter, but slipped and fell. This didn’t slow him down. He scrambled to his feet and nearly mowed over Emma, who was coming to his rescue. Crouching down, she hugged Hog tight. “Baby, all you have to do is stop running.” She cupped his huge face and looked into his sweet, worried eyes. “Just stand up and stare her down, one time, and she’ll stop.”

Killer was still barking.

“Killer,” Emma said calmly but firmly. “Stop.”