“Sure she is. I told you I’d be back for her.”

“You said you’d be back in a month or so.” He crossed his arms and widened his stance. “By my count, two years is a lot longer than a month or so.”

Something flashed through Xander’s eyes—something Ian would have sworn was determination if not for the fact that the only times Xander had ever shown real resolve were when sex, beer or his latest get-rich-quick scheme were involved.

“It hasn’t been that long. A year, year and a half, max. I’m here, just like I said I’d be.” Xander peered past him. “What are you doing back there anyway? Making horseshoes?”

Ian thought of the final touches he’d just finished on a detailed picture frame for his dad. Horseshoes. Right. “Not quite. Now, if the only reason you’re here is for my dog, you should leave. I’m busy.”

“That’s it? No ‘Hey, Xander. Good to see you!’ No ‘Jeez, I hope everything was okay.’ Not even a simple ‘Where’ve you been?’”

“I don’t need to ask.” With one finger Ian pushed his safety glasses above his forehead, squinting against the sudden vibrancy of mid-June. In winter, southwestern Ontario was a sea of white, but now the reds of the flowers, the green of the grass and the blue of the sky could be blinding. “I got all the info I needed when the police came looking for you a couple months after you left. Are you on the run or did you land in the pen?”

Xander’s face lost some color. Ian cursed.

“Seriously?”

“It was victimless, okay? A little cyber project that got sidetracked. No one got hurt.”

“Except the little old ladies you bilked out of their life savings.”

“Hey, I don’t do that stuff. I just help people find their way into companies. Nothing with actual individuals.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still— Ah, jeez. You knew you were going to jail, didn’t you? That’s why you left Lulu with me.”

Xander had the grace to look down as he scraped his foot against the cracked pavement of the driveway. “Look, when I left, I knew that the situation wouldn’t be good for a puppy. Then things got out of hand and— Anyway, that’s all in the past. I paid my debt to society. I’m a changed man and I want my dog.”

“Let’s review the facts, Xander. Two years ago—oh, pardon me, not that long but I don’t feel like doing the math—you asked if you could stay with me for a week. In a moment of foolishness I said yes.” Though to be honest, at that time Ian had been new in Stratford, running from a major life curve that had left him shell-shocked and heartsore. Xander’s request had been a welcome distraction. “When the week turned into a month, I didn’t say anything. When you brought Lulu home, I didn’t say anything. When you took off and left me with her and thirty bucks for food—okay, I said some things then, but you weren’t here so they don’t count. Now, though, you’re here, so listen up. She was a puppy when you left. You only had her two weeks. Not yours anymore.” He poked Xander in the chest. “Go back to your computer and do something useful, like making some multinationals pay taxes.”

But Xander didn’t move. “Look, I know I took advantage of you. But I had a lot of time to think while I was away, and I see what an idiot I’ve been. From now on it’s nothing but the straight and narrow for me. I have a job lined up—totally legit—and I’m starting over. Just me, the future and my dog.” Xander’s eyes darted around the garage, lingering on the steps leading to Ian’s second-floor apartment. “By the way, where is she?”

Ah, hell. Ian remembered that tone. Xander’s persistence lasted about as long as a boy band’s fame, but when he first dived into something he gave it his all. Which meant that right now there would be no changing his mind. Only time and the inevitable roadblocks could do that.

The good news was that if Ian could put the guy off for a day or two, Xander would see something shiny and move on. The bad news was that Lulu and company could return at any minute.

If he could just buy himself a little time...

“She’s not here.”

“Why not? Is she at the vet? Is she sick?”

“She’s fine. She’s healthy and strong and she can eat me under the table. She went on an outing with friends.” Vagueness was his ally. At least, he hoped so. “She’s happy here, Xander. If you want a fresh start, do it right. Get yourself a new dog.”

Xander shook his head. No surprise there. “Nope. One of the things they taught us when I was...away...was about seeing ourselves in our new lives. They had us figure out all the details. Every time I did it, Lulu was in the picture. I don’t want any old dog. I need her.”

Ian’s fear level rose from Damn, I don’t need this to Crap, this could get bad. Xander sounded serious. This might still be nothing more than a whim, but given that Xander was the one who’d bought Lulu in the first place, things could get complicated.

Ian hated complicated.

“Listen, Xander, I’m in the middle of a project and I need to get moving. You should do the same.”

Xander shook his head, crossed his arms and leaned against Ian’s prized Mustang. “I’ll wait.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You know,” Xander said with a sigh, “there was a time when you would have invited me in and we could have talked this out over a beer.”

“And there was a day when you wouldn’t have disappeared without so much as a Facebook post. Guess we’re even.” He returned to the anvil and made a show of examining the cross-peen hammer he’d been using. Yeah, it was juvenile, but hey, Xander wasn’t the only one who could trot out the tough act.

Too bad it didn’t work. Xander ambled into the garage, hands in his pockets, eyes darting from the forge to the anvil to the wall of hammers and files.

“You know, Ian, I’m thinking I got us off on the wrong foot here. How about we start over? I walk in and say, ‘Hey, buddy, long time no see.’ Then you say, ‘Xander! Talk about a sight for sore eyes!’ And I say, ‘Same here. How are your folks? How long have you been playing Little House on the Prairie? How’s work and your pretty little landlady and my dog?’”

Pretty little landlady? If Darcy heard Xander describe her that way, she’d be the one hefting hammers. “I have another idea. You see this?” Ian lifted a curved length of forged iron. “I think this would make a great hook. You know, for grabbing your sorry, law-breaking runaway ass and dragging it to the curb before I—”

His words were interrupted by the sound he’d been dreading most—the excited bark of a dog approaching home, followed immediately by Darcy’s resigned laughter. Lulu must have gotten away from her again.

Sure enough, a second later the driveway was a riot of movement and sound as a yipping, panting streak of beagle blend raced closer, dragging her leash behind her. And unless Ian missed his guess, Lulu was heading straight for him, with barely a curious glance in Xander’s direction.

Mine.

Ian raised his hand. Lulu came to a quivering halt at the entrance to the garage.

“Good girl. Stay.”

Xander crouched. “Lulu? It’s me, girl! Come here.”

Lulu whined and cocked her head but didn’t move. Nor did she seem remotely interested in her onetime owner.

Xander pursed his lips—planning to whistle, no doubt—but Ian shook his head. “Save your breath. I’ve taught her to wait there until I tell her it’s okay. Too many dangerous things in here.”

“Oh. Right. I never thought of that.”

Of course he hadn’t. Xander and responsibility were about as well acquainted as rap and polka.

“So, can I go to her?” Xander asked.

Huh. Ian couldn’t remember Xander ever waiting for anything, let alone requesting consent. His motto had always been that it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. Maybe the time in jail really had taught him a thing or two.

“Hang on. We have a routine.”

“Sure. Whatever.”