You really are the patron saint of lost causes, aren’t you?” Cate tried to pull free of Michael’s embrace. He brought her right hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. He’d been a good friend to her over the past year, but not one she’d trusted with her secrets. He really didn’t know her at all. And he would never be more than a friend. When he tried to pull her closer, the floor above them rumbled as Cooper raged on the third level of the renovated Victorian she called home. Chills crawled up her neck. His cries sounded frenzied and wounded. “Michael, maybe you should go.” “I don’t know how you can live with that beast howling and snarling all day and night. I understand he’s a rescue dog. But, damn it, enough is enough.” She massaged her forehead, trying to ease the headache that always seemed to live just behind her eyes. “You don’t understand him like I do. I really think you should go.”
