Winnie barely gave him a chance to step out of the way. Her nose was pressed to the grass the minute she landed. Trained from a pup to specialize in search and rescue, Winnie's first instinct was to sniff to get her bearings.
"Lots of your friends here today, girl," he said, clipping her lead onto the vest she wore. Crouching beside her, he snapped twice, and she plopped her butt to the grass, her full attention on him. He framed her face again, stroking her smooth checks with his thumbs. "I'm sure you’re psyched," he said in a low, even tone Emma had trained him to use when not giving actual commands. At two years old, Winnie still had a few puppy tendencies. They were working on smoothing out the rough edges together. "Hang with me until we get situated, then you can run with the pack, okay?"
She blinked, but her amber-brown gaze never wavered.
"Good girl," he said with an approvingly.
"Is he your doggy?"
The question came at him on a gasp of barely contained awe and delight.
Winnie's gaze darted past him and her tail thumped the ground hard enough to stir the dust. Brady twisted, still in his crouch, and found a girl with long blonde pigtails gazing at them in slack-jawed wonder. He pressed his hands to his knees as he rose.
"Yes, she is. Her name is Winnie, and she is a proud graduate of Daniels Canine Academy. She's here for her homecoming."
"Your mama is right," Brady replied, unable to resist returning her gap-toothed smile. "I'm Brady, and I'm a policeman here in Jasper. Winnie is my partner."
The girl's eyes widened to the size of quarters. "She's a police dog?"
"She sure is. Say hello, Winnie," he prompted, giving the yellow lab's head a single pat. At the signal, Winnie let out a bark of greeting, then panted with excited expectation.
"Jillian?"
A woman's worried cry had all three of their heads whipping around. Seconds later, another slightly taller, but equally coltish girl appeared around the front of his truck. "She's right here, Mama," the girl called loudly. Then, she eyed him with wary curiosity. "She's talking to a man."
Brady tightened his hold on Winnie's lead when a long, lanky woman with a mane of cornsilk hair skidded to a stop beside the girls, an enormous purse dangling from her arm, and a covered dish clutched in both hands.
"Jilly, I've told you over and over you can't run off—"
"But he has a police dog. He's a policeman," Jillian replied like this was all the defense she needed. "I was only saying hi."
Brady aimed a cordial smile at the mother. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. "I'm Brady Nichols, ma'am. I'm with Jasper P.D." He glanced down at Winnie, who'd shifted closer to his leg, exerting the barest pressure to her lead. "This is Winnie. She's here to see some of her old classmates."
The woman blew out an exasperated breath, then tipped her head in his direction. "Nice to meet you, Officer Nichols. You too, Winnie," she added.
Her expression warmed as she shifted her attention to the dog, and Brady drew in a sharp breath. The woman was beautiful, but her looks weren't her most potent weapon. No, it was the pure pleasure he'd seen in her eyes when she found herself on the receiving end of Winnie's winning doggy grin.
He'd forever be a sucker for women who loved animals.
Glancing toward the large white tent erected between the main house and the outbuildings, he said, "I'm glad I'm not the last to arrive."
"Oh no, we're chronically late," she said, her grimace wan.
Again, recognition niggled at him.
"I'm Jillian Marie Whitaker," the smaller girl volunteered. "Can I pet your doggy?"
"May I," her mother corrected.
Brady could tell by the well-rehearsed delivery this wasn't the first grammar lesson she'd given on the fly. "Sure," he said, bobbing a nod of assent. Jillian skittered forward, but he held out a hand to stop her. "Has anyone ever taught you how to approach a strange dog?"
She wagged her head so hard those long, silky pigtails whipped her face. "No," she replied. "I mean, no, sir," she adjusted, glancing over to her mother for approval.
Brady felt something in his gut loosen as he watched the silent exchange between mother and daughter. Turning his attention to the older girl, he motioned for her to join them. "Hi. I'm Brady. What's your name?"
"Brook," the girl answered shyly. Then, realizing her younger sister had set a more formal tone, she rolled her shoulders. "Brooklyn Ann Whitaker."
Matching her serious tone, he said, "Nice to meet you both. All," he amended almost immediately. He saw their mother shifting from foot to foot and readjusting the weight of the bag hanging off her arm. "But maybe we can put the lesson on hold for a minute. It looks like your mom might need a hand.". He stretched both arms out and signaled for her to pass over covered dish. "I'd be happy to carry somethin for you, ma'am."
"Her name is Mom, not ma'am," Jillian interjected helpfully.
"Her name is not mom," Brook retorted. "Sheesh, don't you know anything?"
"Girls," their mother said in a warning tone. Returning her focus to him, she gave him a halfhearted flash of teeth. "I've got it, thank you. And my name is Cassie. Cassie Whitaker. And no, I'm not telling you my middle name."
