lingered over anything and she’d never spent the night.
He found he enjoyed having a relationship that demanded a little more from him. He liked rolling over in bed and finding Renee next to him. He liked her using the other sink and how they worked together to cook dinner and then clean up after. He appreciated that she understood how he worked and wasn’t mad when he disappeared for a few hours to work on his book. If he had to explain the combination of attraction and familiarity, he would say they fit together.
Funny how when he’d first moved to Happily Inc he’d barely been able to nod at people when he went to town and now he was enjoying having a woman spend the night. The mind’s ability to heal was an amazing thing.
He went into his closet and pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt, then made his way to the kitchen. Renee was hovering over the coffee maker, as if willing it to brew more quickly.
“Rough night?” he asked, his voice teasing.
She glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled. “A good night, but not a lot of sleep.”
She looked well-loved. Her hair was mussed, her skin glowing. She had on some short robe thing and a pair of slipper socks that looked like bright green mice.
When the coffee maker’s steady stream of brew turned into a hissing, gurgling splutter, she gave a sigh of satisfaction, then turned to reach for a mug.
At that exact moment, Koda crossed her path. She spun, nearly ran into him and then jumped back as if any kind of contact with the gentle dog would be fatal. Jasper felt his happy mood evaporate.
What was up with her and the dog? She wasn’t a mean person. She was caring and kind and thoughtful so why was she so apprehensive when it came to Koda?
He waited until they both had their coffee and were seated at the kitchen island.
“Tell me what happened with the dog.”
He spoke softly and deliberately made his tone coaxing. He wanted information, not a fight. There was something she wasn’t sharing with him and he wanted to know what it was.
Renee cradled her mug in both hands. “Nothing. I’m fine. He just, ah, startled me.”
“Were you bitten as a kid? Did someone you know get attacked? There aren’t any scars, so I don’t think a dog came after you. What was it?”
“You don’t want to know.”
So there was something. “I do. Renee, please. You can trust me.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” She set down her coffee and shook her head, as if she were arguing with herself. “It’s not that I don’t like animals. It’s all animals, by the way, not just your dog, and personally I’ve always wanted a cat. There’s just something about their fur and the way they purr. But I can’t and I really don’t want to tell you the reason. It will change everything.”
She looked at him as she spoke and he saw the truth in her eyes. At least the truth she believed. He touched her arm. “Nothing will change. You have my word.”
Her mouth twisted. “You say that now.” She drew in a breath. “Fine. You want to know what my problem is? It’s my mother.”
Jasper hadn’t been expecting that and had no idea how to respond. “Okay,” he said slowly. “What did she do?”
“It’s not what she did, it’s who she is. My mother is... She’s kind of...” She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them and groaned. “My mother has a psychic ability to communicate with animals. No, that’s wrong. It’s not a two-way communication. She looks at them and knows what they’re thinking, which wouldn’t be horrible. The part that makes everything complicated is once she gets whatever information they want to share, she’s compelled to blurt it out.”
Jasper stared at her and waited for the punch line. The “No, really, here’s what it is,” only Renee stopped talking and stared at him—as if that were it. She was done talking.
He wasn’t sure how to react. Annoyance flared—he was trying to be serious, trying to help her or at least understand. Her response was dismissive and...
She looked at him. “I’m not kidding.”
“Your mother talks to animals?”
“No. She can hear what they’re thinking. It’s a thing. It was cute when I was a kid but then it became a problem, as you can imagine. As I got older, I started to worry that I had it, too, and it’s not anything I