As she lay on her back, Gabby noted dully that there were way too many stars in a too bright, out-of-focus sky. For a moment, she wondered why she couldn't draw breath, then quickly became more concerned with the pain that was coursing through her. All she could do was lie on the grass and blink with every throb.

From somewhere far away, she heard a jumble of sounds, and the world slowly started coming back into focus. She tried to concentrate and realized that it wasn't a jumble; she was hearing voices. Or, rather, a single voice. It seemed to be asking if she was okay.

At the same time, she gradually became conscious of a succession of warm, smelly, and rhythmic breezes on her cheek. She blinked once more, turned her head slightly, and was confronted with an enormous, furry, square head towering over her. Nobby, she concluded fuzzily.

"Ahhhh . . . ," she whimpered, trying to sit up. As she moved, the dog licked her face.

"Moby! Down!" the voice said, sounding closer. "Are you okay? Maybe you shouldn't try to get up yet!"

"I'm okay," she said, finally raising herself into a seated position. She took a couple of deep breaths, still feeling dizzy. Wow, she thought, that really hurt. In the darkness, she sensed someone squatting beside her, though she could barely make out his features.

"I'm really sorry," the voice said.

"What happened?"

"Moby accidentally knocked you down. He was going after a ball."

"Who's Moby?"

"My dog."

"Then who's Nobby?"

"What?"

She brought a hand to her temple. "Never mind."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," she said, still dizzy but feeling the pain subside to a low throb. As she began to rise, she felt her neighbor place his hand on her arm, helping her up. She was reminded of the toddlers she saw at the office who struggled to stay balanced and remain upright. When she finally had her feet under her, she felt him release her arm.

"Some welcome, huh?" he asked.

His voice still sounded far away, but she knew it wasn't, and when she faced him, she found herself focusing up at someone at least six inches taller than her own five feet seven. She wasn't used to that, and as she tilted her head upward, she noticed his angled cheekbones and clean skin. His brown hair was wavy, curling naturally at the ends, and his teeth gleamed white. Up close, he was goodlooking - okay, really good-looking - but she suspected that he knew it as well. Lost in thought, she opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, realizing she'd forgotten the question.

"I mean, here you are, coming over to visit, and you get slammed by my dog," he went on. "Like I said, I'm really sorry. Usually he pays a bit more attention. Say hey, Moby."

The dog was sitting on his haunches, acting pleased as punch, and with that, she suddenly remembered the purpose of her visit. Beside her, Moby raised a paw in greeting. It was cute - and he was cute for a boxer - but she wasn't about to fall for it. This was the mutt who'd not only tackled her, but ruined Molly as well. He probably should have been named Mugger. Or better yet, Pervert.

"You sure you're okay?"

The way he asked made her realize that this wasn't the sort of confrontation she'd wanted, and she tried to summon the feeling she'd had on her way over.

"I'm fine," she said, her tone sharp.

For an awkward moment, they eyed each other without speaking. Finally he motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. "Would you like to sit on the deck? I'm just listening to some music."

"Why do you think I want to sit on the deck?" she snapped, feeling more in control.

He hesitated. "Because you were coming over?"

Oh yeah, she thought. That.

"I mean, I suppose we could stand here by the hedges if you'd rather," he continued.

She held up her hands to stop him, impatient to get this over with. "I came over here because I wanted to talk to you . . ."

She broke off when he slapped at his arm. "Me, too," he said before she could get started again. "I've been meaning to drop by to officially welcome you to the neighborhood. Did you get my basket?"

Copyright © 2007 by Nicholas Sparks

Tags: Relationship Fiction

About the Author

Nicholas Sparks is the author of the #1 New York Times bestsellers The Rescue and Nights in Rodanthe, as well as The Notebook, Message in a Bottle, A Walk to Remember, A Bend in the Road, The Guardian, The Wedding, and his moving memoir, Three Weeks with My Brother, written with his brother, Micah. All his books were New York Times and international bestsellers translated into more than thirty languages, and Message in a Bottle, A Walk to Remember, and The Notebook were adapted into major motion pictures. Nicholas Sparks lives in North Carolina with his wife and family. More