Free The Promise He Made Her by Tara Taylor Quinn

They’d practiced that morning. Exercising and doing her business that way. That was only after working her for half an hour to get her to agree to walk on a leash. In city boundaries it was the law, her being on a leash, but he couldn’t seem to impress the importance of police detectives following the law on her. She’d wanted to run. Once, when he’d made the mistake of getting within a block of the beach, she’d practically pulled his arm out of the socket.
    They were only a couple of miles from the cottage. And he’d gotten no closer to a decision on what he was going to do with himself that evening. He could watch TV. He wasn’t certain that would be enough of a distraction.
    From what...he didn’t want to think about.
    He punched the newest speed dial on his phone. Waited for the Bluetooth to connect and then ring through.
    â€œHello?” He could see her talking when he glanced in the rearview mirror. But she hadn’t removed her hands from the steering wheel. Of course the Jaguar would have come equipped with in-car calling.
    â€œI’d like to take a bit of a detour, if you don’t mind,” he said, making one decision only to realize he’d just given himself another problem.
    â€œOf course. I’ll follow.”
    No questions. Just...acquiescence. The woman was a kind person. In his world he didn’t see enough of them.
    â€œI... Do you like dogs?” he asked, thinking too late that she might not. There’d been no evidence of pets in her life.
    â€œI haven’t been around them since I was a kid. But I used to...”
    Her voice faded off. As though she’d gone to a different place. A different time. He wondered what it was like for her there.
    And when he realized that his wanting to know had nothing to do with the case, he swore to himself.
    â€œI have a red setter,” he stated a bit more baldly than he might have if his brain had been working. “She’s...staying...where she stays right now when I’m at work, and I’d like to swing by and get her. It’s going to be late by the time I head home and it would save me a stop.”
    Going back to the room to get her. Taking her down to the beach. And then back home to the room. That stop.
    But he wasn’t about to tell Bloom that he was living in a dingy, converted motel room apartment. Renting by the week.
    And while getting Lucy was for the girl’s benefit, it was for his, as well. Not because of the walk on the beach, but because he needed the distraction. A third party with him and Bloom at all times. His girl keeping him firmly aware of who and what he was.
    And what he wasn’t. He was not a man who got personal with other human beings. No matter how desirable she might be. Or how alone they were in his very secluded home.
    â€œOh. Okay...”
    He wasn’t sure what her hesitation meant, but didn’t ask. Sometimes what he didn’t touch wouldn’t burn him.
    Occasionally. If he got lucky.
    He was lucky that Lucy hadn’t shredded the already threadbare carpet in their room. Or peed or pooped on it, either. The girl nearly knocked him over in her exuberance to see him, and while he might have boxed with her a minute or two—a game she’d grown to expect—he held the door open and said, “Car.”
    He’d left the passenger door ajar for her before he’d unlocked their room, and Lucy made it from the carpet to her seat in two bounds. He was right behind her.
    Bloom, her car still running, was stopped by the entrance to the motel.
    His phone rang before they’d pulled out of the lot. “That’s an odd place to drop your dog for day care.”
    Something about tangled webs came to mind. He pushed it away. His life was filled with tangled webs. Just usually ones that had been tangled by others. Not ones he’d tangled himself.
    â€œPeople who live in these places are usually the ones who need