“What big event?” Ally interrupted, her brow furrowing yet again. “What are you talking about!”
Hard to believe this woman had grown up on a ranch. With a sigh of exasperation, Hank took another step closer and spelled it out for the gorgeous heiress. “Duchess is going to have puppies. And judging by the size of her belly, it’s going to be soon.”
Chapter Three
Ally stared at Hank and the rotund golden retriever curled at his feet, already half-asleep. “Puppies,” she repeated in shock.
Crinkles appeared at the corners of Hank’s eyes. He gestured magnanimously. “Merry Christmas.”
Ally pressed a hand to her temple and sagged against an overstuffed club chair in a hideous floral pattern that clashed with the yellowed horse-and-hound wallpaper.
“This is surreal,” she gasped.
Hank strode past her and went back up the stairs, leaving Ally to follow. He went into the bathroom. “More like one of those holiday commercials you see on TV, with all the cute little golden puppies running around. Or it will be, once Duchess delivers her brood.”
He grabbed a bottle of spray disinfectant and liberally spritzed the floor and tub. With the ease of a man used to doing for himself, he tugged another clean towel off the shelf and used it to wipe down the dampened areas.
Aware that she was close enough to touch him, Ally stepped back to let him work. “She can’t do that here!”
He gathered up the wet, filthy towels and mat, and dumped them into a plastic laundry basket he pulled from the bottom of the linen closet. His sensually shaped lips twisted cynically. “You keep saying that…” he chided softly. He gave her a long considering look, then brushed past her once again, headed purposefully back down the stairs.
Duchess barely lifted her head as he strode by to the mudroom beyond.