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Anyhow, she was half-laughing as Boscoe licked her chin when she knelt to give him a hug.

Meanwhile, her friend from church paused at a safe distance.

Charlotte knew Boscoe also. Most folks did, though Hensley still doubted that Blake knew him since he hadn’t been in town for long.

At least he seemed to have a heart for dogs, shown by his valiant rescue.

Hensley, still breathless, waved to Charlotte, keeping a hand on Boscoe, as did Blake Sterling. “Hey, Charlotte. Thank goodness you came along.”

Her friend nodded and smiled. “Hey there, Hensley. Do you need a leash? My car’s parked nearby.” She gestured toward her vehicle, parked on the other side of the bridge. “I have an extra one in the trunk. Y’all can keep it ...”

Mr. Handsome nodded. “That’d be great.”

“Thank you and yes, please.” Hensley turned back to face Mr. Not-Very-Communicative while Charlotte went to retrieve the extra leash.

He hadn’t even glanced over his shoulder while she’d been chasing Boscoe along with him, but she was sure he couldn’t have missed the sound of her clicking heels all the way to the school.

And now, he wore a cold and indifferent expression.

She would give him the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe he was tired from the chase like she was.

Would he introduce himself at some point when he recovered?

But Mr. Handsome Grumpy Rich Cowboy kept a serious visage, keeping his fingers tucked into Boscoe’s collar to maintain a firm hold, just as she did from under Boscoe’s neck.

How he had managed to keep his cowboy hat on through all of their running remained a mystery .

What could she say to break through his icy demeanor? Maybe she could comment on Charlotte’s helpful offer while they waited for her to return with the leash.

Her eyes squinted in the bright sunlight as she peered at Blake, so she shaded them with a hand over her forehead. “That’s the nice thing about small towns like Dogwood Creek; folks are always so kind and helpful to each other if anyone’s in trouble.”

To her surprise, she earned a smile, revealing the cutest dimples she’d ever seen in his otherwise chiseled face. “A quality I also happen to like about small towns. Are you the owner?”

So, he didn’t know that Sam owned Boscoe. “No, but I know the owner. Samantha Braeburn. Her hair salon is next door to my wedding boutique, so essentially, we’re neighbors. The Mane Event. Do you know it?” She arched a brow since his eyes lit up.

He cocked his head to the side. “Okay, yes, I know her from my visits to her salon.”

“Yeah, she’s the best.” But Charlotte and her Schnauzer returned with the spare leash before she could manage to say anything else.

Charlotte handed the leash to Blake. “Here you go. As I said, I don’t need it back. Nice to see you, Hensley. We have an appointment, so little Duke and I must be off to finish our walk, but I’m sure I’ll see you around at church.”

“Sure will. Thanks again. You’re a lifesaver!” Hensley rose as Blake secured Boscoe while Charlotte waved as she and the Schnauzer resumed their walk.

Hensley fell in beside Blake as they turned back toward Gooseberry Lane, walking at a steady pace across the school’s sizeable lawn.

She eyed him as they went along. Apparently, he had no intention of remembering his manners, so she stepped up to do what he refused, which would have been the polite thing to do .

Irked a little, she drew in a breath before plunging forward. “I’m Hensley Fitzwilliam. Owner of Hensley’s Wedding Creations. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Blake Sterling. Owner of Deerpark Cabins.” He didn’t offer to shake hands since they were walking, but he did nod, rather curtly.

What was his problem, anyhow? “I’m familiar with the property. Very nice cabins growing up there. Good to meet you.”

He chuckled. Had she earned another smile?

Turning toward her with those dimples showing, his eyes seemed to dance as he spoke. “I wish the cabins were growing up, as you put it. It’s a might harder than that though.”

Maybe it explained why he was so muddy. “Are you building them yourself?”

“Yes, but I do have a construction crew helping. Still, each one is a labor of love.” He wrapped the leash around his wrist one more time to ensure a good hold on Boscoe.

They reached Gooseberry Lane and headed toward their right, retracing the path of the chase that had led them there.

“I’m sure it must be, but the progress I’ve seen looks good so far.

” She smoothed her sage green dress, her boot heels clicking softly on the sidewalk.

Her feet didn’t throb as much since they kept walking along at a comfortable pace.

No, in fact, her feet had grown numb at this point.

But at least they weren’t running, and they’d managed to rescue Boscoe.

Blake wasn’t making conversation easy. Boscoe seemed to lead the way on the leash, his mouth open, his tongue showing as he panted. What else could she ask to keep the conversation going?

“And how do you like Dogwood Creek so far?” She stole a glance at the man as he adjusted his cowboy hat.

“I like the small-town atmosphere, the beauty of the rugged mountains and all of the pines,” he offered, glancing toward his right as they drew near the courthouse .

“I do too. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” She clasped her hands behind her back, enjoying the crisp air.

“They sure are.”

But the walk was almost at an end, and she could now see Samantha Braeburn up ahead, searching for Boscoe, walking toward them.

“There’s Sam.” She nodded towards the petite salon owner. “She’s probably at her wit’s end.”

Spotting Boscoe, Sam ran to meet them before Blake could reply.

“Guys, am I glad to see you! Oh, Boscoe ... what am I going to do with you, boy?” She knelt and hugged the stubborn dog who lavished her with licks and tail wagging.

Rising, she sighed. “He ran away again. I can’t blame him.

Our little fenced yard is kind of boring.

One day, we’ll eventually have a house in the countryside with a bigger yard for him.

I’m so thankful you’ve found him.” Sam glanced from Hensley to Blake. “How can I ever thank you enough?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Blake replied, handing her the leash. “Just friends helping friends. And I happen to like dogs.”

“Still, it means a lot to me. I need to find a way to properly thank you both.” Her eyes brightened.

“I know! I’ll invite you to dinner at our place this coming Friday.

My treat. Are you two dating? What a cute couple you make .

..” Her head tilted to one side as she peered at them with curiosity and maybe a bit of mischief in her eyes.

Hensley’s cheeks warmed.

“A couple?” Blake appeared to choke back a nervous laugh. His brown eyes widened as he turned to glance at Hensley. Then he shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, no, we’re not together. She’s not exactly my type. Err ... uh, but glad to be of help.”

Hensley’s brow shot up and her hands flew to her hips. Not his type? What exactly did he mean by that? Of all the nerve! “No, we’re not dating,” she mumbled, but her chest heaved.

Maybe he wanted someone who wore muddy jeans and grungy, faded, dirty tee shirts.

That certainly wasn’t her style. She enjoyed wearing classy dresses that were clean, classic, stylish, and pressed.

How dare he sum her up in less than a ten-minute walk!

What did he know about her? Nothing. Exactly nothing. That’s what he knew!

“Oh, well, just come on by on Friday at seven, both of you. We live upstairs above the salon, Blake. I know Hensley knows the way. We’ve had lunch together at my place a number of times before.

I’ll make something magnificent. Do you both enjoy steak?

My husband, Tiff, can grill some steaks for us.

We bought a new grill last summer and it’s sitting on our little patio, begging to be used. ”

“You don’t have to make us dinner ...” Hensley’s voice faded, weakening her attempt at protesting.

Her heart sank. What was Sam up to? Arranging a way to throw the two of them together?

In fact, the more she considered his remark, the more she began to seethe.

He’d been rude about speaking to her, and then he’d topped it off with that snide remark.

The last thing on her mind was having to sit through a dinner with Mr. Snobby Grumpy Cowboy who did not appear to enjoy spending time with her.

Whatever his reasons were for the statement, she didn’t care how wealthy or handsome he was.

Having a conversation with him was like pulling teeth.

She could find better things to do with her time.

Samantha raised her hand. “No, I won’t hear otherwise. Please, come at seven. I’ll bake lasagna too. You’ve saved my Boscoe! He could have been run over by a car or lost to us forever. I’m so thankful to both of you.”

Hensley risked a glance at the cowboy. Did they both seem reluctant? Blake was shaking his head, but after Sam’s insistence, he shrugged and then offered a nod, tipping his hat. “It would be our pleasure, ma’am.”

Well, well. So, Blake Sterling had a few manners hiding under that firm exterior and broad chest. And now she had to accept the invitation or appear ruder than the cowboy .

Hensley blinked. There’d be no getting out of this pickle.

“I guess we’ll be seeing you on Friday then, Sam .

” She placed extra emphasis on Sam’s name for a reason.

She didn’t relish the idea of having to spend time with the rude cowboy who’d made it clear he had no interest in her.

Hensley crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the cowboy when he turned toward her as she added, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. ”

Ha! She’d show Mr. No Manners a thing or two.

Did he consider her some small-town hick from the backwoods?

Is that why he’d said she wasn’t his type?

Did he think she was a country hick? And for him to have taken that attitude while wearing muddy clothes and a cowboy hat, which he now tipped in her direction and then Sam’s direction again. Well, that certainly took some gall.

He sure was a mess, and especially after all of the running. His brown hair was flattened with a hat line. And maybe the dried mud all over his clothing was from the spring mud. He’d obviously gotten himself into some sort of a tangle, but she’d be certain to dress to the nines for that dinner.

She kept her lips pressed firmly together, refusing to glance at him while Sam said a few parting words.

In fact, the moment Sam smiled and turned away with Boscoe, she spun around, leaving Mr. Rich and Rude Cowboy on the sidewalk as she stomped off toward her wedding boutique, her heels clacking loudly on the sidewalk.

Why didn’t he seem as handsome as he had before Boscoe’s adventure?

Worst of all, she wouldn’t be able to let Sam down about dinner to steer clear of this prideful man.

Her neighbor would be terribly disappointed if she didn’t attend.

No, she was stuck, unless she could come down with some sort of disease.

But she wasn’t any good at making excuses, so she’d have to go through with it, despite a hundred warning bells going off in her head.