No One But You

Seven
    “Hey, Hobart.” Jake’s voice softened as he knelt, hands out, to welcome the dog who met him at the door. “Did you have a good day, buddy? You’re such a good boy.”
    The dog’s tongue lolled as he panted happily. Wise chocolate eyes studied Jake lovingly as they all stepped into the entryway of Mariah’s home. Wyatt’s chest tightened with a pain he couldn’t handle. He swallowed hard, forcing it down, remembering another boy and another dog.
    “We got Hobart from the animal shelter for my fifth birthday. The best present ever, right, boy?”
    The dog’s tail thumped happily against the tile.
    “All right, upstairs. Doctor’s orders.” Mariah led the way through the last of the afternoon sunshine tumbling through the living room windows. Her upscale house was comfortable and lovely. Little touches were everywhere—bits of lace, framed pictures, a crocheted afghan on the back of the couch. It was cozy. A real home.
    “Do I have to stay in bed?” Jake tromped up the stairs behind his mom.
    “Doctor’s orders.”
    “Then can Wyatt at least stay for dinner?” the teen’s voice echoed in the stairwell. “I mean, he has to eat sometime, right? And you know I need good male role models in my life. You don’t want to get in the way of my personal growth, do you?”
    “It’s tempting,” she retorted wryly, her voice echoing in the upstairs hallway.
    A friendly “ruff” sounded by Wyatt’s knee. Hobart sat politely, tail swishing.
    “Hi, boy. It’s nice to meet you.” He stroked the dog’s rounded head, his heart softening. Sebastian’s dog, Poppy, lived with Delanie. Wyatt missed having a dog. “What a good boy. Where’s Jake?”
    At the boy’s name, big brown eyes flashed happily. With another “ruff!” the dog took off up the stairs.
    “Hey, I think he’ll stay quiet,” Mariah announced when she came back down. “I guess we’ll see. That boy. It’s too late to return him.”
    “I like Jake.” Wyatt followed her to the back of the house, where a family room met a spacious kitchen and eating area. He was glad he’d showered and changed at the community center. “He’s a good kid. I have a hard time saying no to him.”
    “I know the feeling.” She opened the fridge and plunked a plate of thawed hamburger on the counter. “So, you’re staying for dinner?”
    “If it wouldn’t be a hardship.”
    “I wasn’t planning anything fancy. Just spaghetti and meatballs.”
    “Sounds fine to me. You might as well put me to work.”
    “Really? You do kitchen work?”
    “And I’m not too bad at it.”
    “I guess we’ll see about that. There’s a loaf of French bread in the bread keeper.” She measured out dried parsley into her palm. “You can cut it into one-inch slices and butter it.”
    “Aye, aye, Captain.”
    The warmth of his smile left Mariah breathless. Just concentrate on dinner, not the man. She plunked a frying pan on the stove, resisting the tractor beam of Wyatt’s presence an arm’s length away. What was she going to do about these feelings?
    “Hey, you did keep our picture. Wasn’t that our first date?”
    “How would you remember that?”
    “How could I forget?” He soaped up at the sink, studying the old picture Jake had left on the sill.
    She leaned in to get a good look. In it, Wyatt was classically handsome in his T-shirt and jeans, and young.
    So young. Just like the girl smiling adoringly up at him, unaware that her mom had snapped the picture.
    “I was nervous,” he confessed. “I wanted everything to go just right. I couldn’t believe you’d agreed to go out with me.”
    “I couldn’t believe you’d asked me.” It was the same way she felt now, a little breathless, afraid and weightless, as if she had been swept off her feet. I can’t be falling in love with him again , she thought. I just can’t.
    “I like this picture here.” He gestured toward the other frame sitting on her windowsill. A younger Jake with two front teeth missing, his brown hair windblown, standing in front of a Yellowstone National Park sign with both arms hugging Hobart. “I have one just like it, of my son and his dog. We vacationed there too.”
    “Your son?”
    “I buried Sebastian two years ago.” The confession seemed to be torn out of him, his voice raw and cracking. “He was ten when the cancer finally won.”
    “I’m so sorry.” Mariah couldn’t imagine… Her heart stopped. No, she couldn’t envision that kind of loss.
    “For