“Who the devil sent her out on an interview?” Steve yelled into his phone.

“I did,” the editor said. “I thought that’s what she was supposed to do. We always use the traffic cars as mobile units.”

“She bakes dog biscuits!” Steve shouted.

“For crying out loud, she gives fashion reports on accident victims.”

“It’s the human interest angle,” the editor said. “People seem to like it.”

Steve slammed the phone into its cradle. He knew people liked it. In fact, he, too, found it pleasant to have the traffic report humanized. What he’d actually been thinking, but didn’t dare say, was that Daisy Adams, despite her cheerful busyness and obvious competency, seemed fragile and vulnerable to him. He wanted to care for her, protect her. He definitely did not want her running around in bad neighborhoods and bagging dope dealers.

He dialed her car phone number and clenched his teeth while he waited. One ring, two rings. “Come on, come on,” he said. When she answered he didn’t bother with hello. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yup. I’m fine.”

“Is it true you ran down Barry LeRoy?”

“Sort of. He kind of bounced off my fender. It was an accident.”

Steve clenched his teeth again and counted to ten. “Okay, where are you now?”

“I’m on my way to the station.”

“Good. I’ll meet you at the garage.”

“Do you have Bob?” Daisy asked. “The editor said you went home to get Bob.”

Steve smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Yeah, I have Bob. We’ll both meet you at the garage.”

He made another U-turn. The pound was only a few miles away. He still had time to pick up a dog. It wouldn’t be so bad, he told himself. A dog was man’s best friend. They could go jogging together. And Bob would be waiting for him when he came home each evening. Coming home to an empty house had gotten old lately. This was going to work out fine. In fact, he couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t thought to get a dog sooner.

Five minutes later Steve followed a young woman in a blue kennel coat down the rows of cages, checking out the dogs. Small mutt with perky ears; greyhound rescued from a lab; mixed breed with a litter of puppies; fox terrier… and Bob. Steve knew him the moment he laid eyes on him. Bob was a gray-and-white sheepdog. Steve knew he’d be a great pet because he looked just like the nursemaid dog in Peter Pan. He was almost as wide as he was tall. He looked like a big box with hair.

“That’s him,” Steve said. “That’s my dog.”

“He’s just a puppy,” the girl said. “He’ll be a year old next week.”

“Perfect. Wrap him up.” Steve looked at his watch. “I’m running a little late.”

The girl opened the cage door and put a collar around the dog. She clicked on a leash and handed it to Steve. “There are a few forms to fill out.”

The dog bounded from his cage, put his two front paws on Steve’s chest, and barked.

Steve grinned at him. “He likes me,” he told the kennel attendant.

He had his first doubts about Bob when he opened the car door for him and the dog barely fit through. He had more serious doubts when he slid behind the wheel and couldn’t find the gearshift under Bob’s tail. Bob began to pant in the close quarters. A glob of drool plopped onto Steve’s shoulder. The windows fogged. Steve opened the sun roof and Bob tipped his nose up for fresh air.

“This isn’t going to work,” Steve said. “The car is too small.”

He pushed against Bob, trying to get to the cell phone plugged into the consul, but Bob was sitting on it. In truth, he had no place else to sit.

“Okay,” Steve said, “just hang in there. I’m going to fix this. We have to make the best of it for a few miles.” He turned the air-conditioning on full blast and opened the windows, deciding Bob needed a few lessons in personal hygiene.

Ten minutes later Steve and Bob were in a new-car showroom looking at SUVs. “What about this one?” Steve said to Bob. “You like red?”

Bob wagged his tail.

“I’ll take it,” Steve said to the salesman. “I want to trade in that black car in the parking lot. The one with dog drool on the windshield.”

The salesman blinked at the car. “You can’t trade that in. It’s worth at least fifty thousand dollars more than the car you’re buying!”

He was right, Steve realized. The car was almost new. “Okay,” he said, taking out his checkbook. “I’ll pay cash for the Explorer. I’ll leave the black car here and pick it up later… maybe tomorrow.”

He called Daisy while the salesman was completing the paperwork. “I’m going to be a little late,” he said. “Do you mind waiting for me?”

Daisy thought about her schedule. It didn’t include waiting-around time. Then she thought about Steve Crow and his terrific mouth and warm hands and cute butt.

“Okay,” Daisy said. “I’ll wait, I just got here myself.”

“I’m only around the corner. I’ll be there in half an hour tops.”

Steve drove out of the showroom humming happily. This was much better. They’d put the backseat down, and Bob had lots of room to stretch out. He didn’t smell any better, but he’d stopped panting and drooling. And this wasn’t a woman-catcher car, Steve thought. He wouldn’t have to worry about finding panties on his antenna.

His heart beat a little faster when he saw Daisy. She was wearing a black tank top and a white linen skirt that stopped an inch above her knees. “That’s her,” he said to Bob. “That’s Daisy. What do you think? Great legs, huh?”

Bob started panting again.

Steve patted him on top of his head. “I know just how you feel,” he said to Bob. “I feel like panting, too, but you have to learn to control these body functions. Take my word for it, women don’t usually like to be drooled on.” He parked the car next to Daisy and went around to open the door for Bob.

Bob jumped out, happily lunged at Daisy, and pinned her to the WZZZ car, his paws planted on her chest.

Steve studied Bob’s technique and wondered if it’d work for him. Bob even received a hug. Steve pulled the dog off Daisy and encouraged him to sit down. “He’s a tad low on manners,” Steve explained. “He’s a puppy. He hasn’t been to obedience school yet.”

Bob’s mouth fell open, and his eyes widened in alarm.

“I don’t think he likes the idea of obedience school,” Daisy said, fondling Bob’s droopy ears.

“Sure he does. Only the other day he was telling me how he wanted a chance to do some socializing.”

Bob looked at Steve with his head cocked and his eyes narrowed.

“Jeez,” Daisy said, “if I could put that look into words, I’d probably be embarrassed to say them.”

Steve thought he was beginning to understand why Bob had been left at the pound. “He needs food. You know how it is with youngsters, if you don’t keep feeding them, they get cranky.” He leveled a look at Bob that implied neutering might follow obedience school. The warning wasn’t necessary. At the mention of the word food Bob snapped to attention. His mouth tipped up into a smile. His tail thumped the cement floor. His eyes brightened.

“I have just the thing,” Daisy said. “A nice nutritious stir-fry dinner.”

“We’ll follow you home,” Steve said. “I want to make sure nothing else happens to you today.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “That isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine. Until today I had an impeccable driving record.”

“Humor me.”

Steve and Bob got back into the Explorer and waited for Daisy. A moment later she drove by and waved to them. The car was yellow and maroon, or at least might have been yellow and maroon when it was new. Steve could barely see for the exhaust. New had been a lot of years ago. Valves clattered, the fan belt squealed, the muffler rattled, and the beast left a trail of oil that reminded Steve of Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs.

Forty-five minutes later Daisy had a mound of food on her chopping block and was waiting for her electric wok to heat up. “It’s my mom’s,” she said to Steve. “She sent over a box full of pots and pans, hoping Kevin wouldn’t starve to death before they returned from Texas.”

Kevin was forlornly staring into an empty bag of chips. “Bob ate all my chips.”

“He’s a puppy,” Steve said, throwing a black look at Bob.

Daisy added oil to the wok. “I hope he hasn’t ruined his appetite.”

Kevin looked at Bob sprawled across the kitchen floor. “I don’t think this house is big enough for the two of us. He’s a nice dog, Steve, but he’s moving in on my territory.”

Steve could appreciate Kevin’s point of view. Bob was getting more than his share of attention from Daisy. He was getting hugs and kisses and tasty morsels of food. When they got home tonight, Steve was going to have a long talk with Bob. He was going to tell him about hogging the chips and moving in on a budding relationship.

Daisy dumped the meat and vegetables into the wok and stirred.

Bob was on his feet beside her. His tail was swishing back and forth, his ears were perked up, his mouth was open in joyous expectation.

“He sure gets excited about food,” Daisy said.

“So do I,” Kevin told her. “I get excited about food. Doesn’t anyone want to feed me?”

“We’re going out to eat,” Steve said. “I was supposed to bring the people food, but things got sort of hectic, and I didn’t get a chance to shop.”

Daisy scooped the stir-fry into a heavy ceramic bowl, blew on it, and when it was cool, she said to Bob, “Bon appétit.” She set the bowl on the floor.

Bob made a few loud grunting, slurping, snorting noises, and the food was gone. He sat back and studied the bowl, as if more food might suddenly appear. He had a slim scrap of sautéed pepper stuck in his chin whiskers. Steve thought Kevin looked like he was thinking about eating it, but Bob sniffed, located the pepper slice with his tongue, and swallowed it before Kevin had a chance to snatch it away.

Daisy still had the fork in her hand. “I thought you said this dog was finicky.”

“Probably he draws the line at table legs,” Kevin said.

Steve picked the bowl up off the floor. It was licked so clean it looked like it had just come out of the dishwasher. “I guess my food isn’t as good as your food.”

Daisy smiled. “This is one recipe that will definitely get included in my next book.”

Steve put a friendly arm around Daisy. “Now for my part of the bargain. I’m going to take you guys to a first-class restaurant.”

“Excellent,” Kevin said, already at the door. “Do I get to ride in the car from hell?”

“Afraid not. I don’t have the car from hell today. Today I have the Ford SUV,” Steve said.

“That’s okay,” Kevin said. “SUVs are cool.”

Daisy slung her purse over her shoulder. “What’ll we do about Bob?”

The question took Steve by surprise. He wasn’t used to worrying about dogs. “Could we leave him in your backyard?”

“Fang ate a hole through my privacy fence. Bob would be able to escape. I suppose we could leave him in the house, though.”

“You be a good dog,” Steve told Bob. “Don’t do anything rude in the house, and I’ll take you for a walk when we come back.”

Daisy closed and locked the door and was halfway to the car when an unearthly sound stopped her in her tracks. “My Lord, what is that?”

Everyone listened. The pitch rose. Bob was howling for all he was worth.

“He’s lonely,” Daisy said, returning to the house. “We’ll have to take him with us.” She unlocked the door and snapped Bob’s leash on his choke collar. “We can go to one of those fast-food drive-throughs. Then we won’t have to leave Bob home alone.”

Bob galloped to the car and jumped onto the backseat beside Kevin.

When everyone ordered at the drive-through, Bob got two burgers and a vanilla shake. He was vastly subdued on the way home, and by the time Daisy and Steve had cleaned the kitchen and were ready to settle themselves in front of the TV to hear the eleven o’clock news, Bob was sound asleep on the couch.

Steve liked Bob a lot when he was sleeping. Not only was Bob adorable, but he was also taking up most of the couch, making it necessary for everyone else to sit pressed together, squeezed into the remaining few inches. Since Kevin had gone to his room to avoid drying dishes, the squeezing was left to Steve and Daisy. Steve sat down and waited for Daisy to sit beside him.

She stood with hands on hips, surveying the space left available to her. All right! This was her chance to snuggle next to Steve Crow. She felt giddy with anticipation, but she didn’t want to seem too eager, so she pretended there wasn’t enough room for her. “Your dog is a couch hog.” God bless him.

“I could move him,” Steve offered. He didn’t mean it, of course. He wouldn’t move that dog if the house was on fire. Good old Bob had finally done something right.