Because he was the one who'd taught her to throw, Hope caught it with ease. The dog brought the frisbee back, staring eagerly at the two of them.
"Throw it again."
Rosalind felt his hand close over hers. He pulled her into a half-embrace, teaching her hand-over-hand. She couldn't think about how to throw properly—all her attention was on him.
"Should I go and clean it up?"
Hope held the frisbee in its mouth, wagging its tail as it watched them.
"Don't worry about it. Someone else will take care of it."
Rosalind bit her lip. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but… how much did that thing I broke cost?"
Alaric raised an eyebrow, a nonchalant look on his face. "I think it's better if you don't know."
...
As night fell, Rosalind suddenly received a call from Faye Lowell.
"Faye, what do you want?"
"Isn't it a given that you have to be at my beck and call? Since when do you get to ask me what I want? Don't you forget who made you Mrs. Davenport."
