An injured dog could snap. She couldn’t just pull him out.

‘Can I help?’

He was Adonis. Hero material. Of course he’d help.

‘We have an injured dog,’ she said, telling the children as well as Ad…as well as Nicholas. ‘He seems frightened. We all need to stay very quiet so we don’t frighten him even more. Daisy, can you fetch me two towels from the swimming cupboard?’

‘Do you know the dog?’ Nicholas asked as Daisy importantly fetched towels. He was standing right over her, and then he was kneeling. His body was disconcertingly solid. Disconcertingly male.

He was peering underneath Laurie’s table as if he had no idea in the world what his presence was doing to her.

What, exactly, was his presence doing to her?

Well, helping. That was a rarity all by itself. Misty was the fixer, the one who coped, the practical one. She did things by herself, from necessity rather than choice.

She didn’t often have a large attractive male kneeling to help.

Often? Um…never.

‘Do you know the dog?’ he asked again and she got a grip on the situation. Sort of.

‘No.’

‘But he’s injured?’

‘There’s blood on the floor. Once I have the towels, I can reach in…’

‘It’ll be safer if I lift the table so we can see what we’re dealing with. Tell you what. If we move the kids back, it’ll give him a clear run to the entrance. If he wants to bolt, then he can.’

‘I need to see what’s wrong.’

‘But you don’t want a child getting in the way of an injured animal.’

‘No,’ she said. Of course not.

‘I left the outside door open from the porch,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry; that’s how he must have come in. I can shut it now. That means if I lift the table and he bolts we have a neat little space to hold him.

She thought that through and approved. Yes. If the dog was scared he’d run the way he’d come. They could close the classroom door into the porch and they’d have him safe.