Free Once Upon a Proposal by Allison Leigh

subdued.”
    â€œI guess that’s one way of putting it.”
    She couldn’t help herself. She looked right at him, taking in his unshaven jaw and bloodshot eyes. “And you look like you haven’t slept in days. What’s wrong?”
    â€œNothing that another ten hours in every day wouldn’t cure.” He took her elbow, helping her along the uneven stone pathway that led to her door, even though he had to know that she’d walked over it hundreds of times before. “One of my construction managers had a car accident a few days ago and I’ve had to fill in on the job site for him.” They stopped at the door of the cottage and he waited for her to unlock it.
    â€œIs he going to be all right?”
    He gave her an odd look. “Yeah. Broke a few bones, but he’ll probably be nagging me to get him back at the site before the doctor even says it’s okay.” He followed her inside. “You’re the only one who has asked that.”
    Her little carriage house felt cozy at the best of times. With him standing in the center of her living room between the leather chair that she’d purloined from her mother’s basement and the outdated floral-patterned but immensely comfortable couch she’d bought at a consignment store, the space felt even smaller. More intimate. “I’m sorry? I’m sure his coworkers want ed to know how—”
    He waved his hand. “Yeah. Of course folks on the crew and at the office asked.” He ran his hand tiredly down his face, then around to the back of his neck. “Don’t mind me.” He turned toward the short, narrow hall that would lead him to the bathroom, only to do an about-face a second later.
    She nearly bumped into him and he caught her shoulders in his hands again. “Sorry.” He stepped around her. “Tools are in my truck.”
    She chewed the inside of her lip, watching him leave.
    He hadn’t brought up the business about her posing as his fiancée. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d changed his mind so thoroughly that he didn’t even want to bring it up.
    As if she’d have forgotten it if he didn’t.
    She exhaled roughly and headed into the kitchen to let the dogs out of their kennels. The light on her answering machine was blinking, and she poked the button before opening the cage.
    â€œBobbie, this is Quentin Rich.”
    She glanced at the machine as she snapped on Archimedes’s leash. “Who?”
    â€œWe met at the Hunt Christmas party last year. I heard you were available and I thought it would be nice to get together again. Maybe dinner? Call me.” The caller reeled off his number.
    Bobbie looked down at Archimedes. “Do you remember him?”
    The dog’s tongue lolled out of his mouth. He gave her a goofy look.
    â€œMe either. And that party was ten months ago.” She erased the message and called Zeus, who’d been patiently waiting. With their leashes on, they both bolted out the front door, pulling her along with them. They veered away from their original target—the bushes—when they spotted Gabe and raced toward him instead.
    A grin stretched across his face, erasing years of tiredness, as he set down his bucket filled with tiling tools and crouched down to greet them. “How you doing, Zeus?” He rubbed one dog down, then the other. “Archie? You staying away from eating Bobbie’s couch cushions?”
    â€œI’m surprised.” Bobbie slowly walked closer, giving the leashes more play. “Not even Fiona can tell them apart.”
    Gabe figured it was safer all around for him to focus onthe oversized puppies slathering slobber over his hands and arms than on Bobbie.
    Or he’d be the one likely to start slobbering over himself.
    He was used to being around beautiful women. Hell, he’d been married to one, even if she’d turned out to be carved from ice. So what was it