"The LA traffic stereotype isn't a joke, I guess," Jennifer grumbled.

Jonathan chuckled lightly and patted her knee comfortingly. They were sitting in the backseat of the Rolls as Max drove them to the airport. He usually kept this car for special occasions or when he needed to make a splash, and driving to LAX wasn't really either of those things. But the trunk was big and the backseat was comfortable and roomy, so it made the most sense to have Max drive this car today. Being at a complete standstill on the 110 was not unusual, unfortunately.

"I'll be glad to not have to account for traffic if we move to Colorado," Jennifer added, sighing as she stared out the window to the morass of skyscrapers.

"I agree," Jonathan answered. "What do you think, Max?"

From the driver's seat, Max called behind him, "Only thing I hate about LA is this traffic. I ain't lookin' forward to shovelin' snow again, but I'll take it if I don't hafta sit in this bumper-to-bumper mess again."

"Well, maybe we can come back for the winters," Jonathan suggested. They would be in LA often enough. Home would be at their ranch in Colorado, if the property was as great in reality as it seemed online, but his business was still headquartered here. And perhaps a part of him would always call LA home, too.

He glanced over at Jennifer, sitting there so casually and comfortably. In the time they'd known each other—which, granted, wasn't very long—she seemed comfortable anywhere she went. In London at the nicest restaurants and fanciest shops or at a chippy with a pint of beer. And now in LA at the hottest nightclubs and in a pair of denim cutoffs on a sailboat. She had this miraculous quality of just fitting everywhere. She was miraculous. She was his home. Colorado or LA or Timbuktu, he didn't care. Just so long as he was with her.

As though she could sense him thinking about her, Jennifer turned to look at him. She caught him staring at her, and she smiled. She placed her hand on top of his where it rested between their seats and gently rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. He looked at their hands and then back up at her lovely face. She subtly blew him a kiss. He felt warm inside at that.

With her hand still on his, Jennifer turned back towards the window. They'd moved into the left lane to be able to merge into the carpool lane and take the express to the 105. The traffic was finally starting to move, inch by inch. The engine roared to life as Max was at last able to step on the ignition.

All of a sudden, Jennifer gasped loudly. "Max, stop! Pull over! Carefully!" she exclaimed in a panic.

"Jennifer, what's wrong!?" Jonathan asked, panic of his own washing over him.

She didn't even wait until Max put the car in park. He hadn't stopped yelling about giving him a heart attack when she threw off her seatbelt and opened the car door and leapt out into the shoulder of the freeway. Jonathan ran after her.

He followed Jennifer back about a dozen yards to a cardboard box that had been discarded. That wasn't so unusual. And Jennifer might have been relatively new to LA, but she was a worldly kind of girl, so surely she'd seen trash on the side of the road before.

By the time Jonathan reached her, Jennifer's demand to stop the car became apparent. She bent down and picked up a big furry ball. A dog.

"Oh my god, how did you see that!?" Jonathan asked in amazement, shouting over the sound of traffic.

"I saw him peek out of the box. Or her, I don't know." Jennifer lifted the dog up, shifting it around and glancing under the tail. "Him," she confirmed.

"Come on, let's get back to the car. It's not safe for any of us to be out here like this, especially not this little guy."

Jonathan led Jennifer back to where Max was waiting beside the car. He did his best to be gentlemanly and shield her and the dog from the cars whizzing by, but she didn't seem to be paying attention to anyone or anything but the dog. He could barely hear her cooing over the traffic.

"You're very sweet. I hope you're alright. I'm so sorry you wound up out here. We'll take care of you, yes we will," she murmured to the dog.

"What the hell is that!?" Max exclaimed as they approached.

"A dog," Jonathan answered. "Come on, Max, I'll find an emergency vet nearby."

"What about the plane?" Max asked.

"It's my plane," Jonathan reminded him. "We'll take off when we take off. It'll be fine. Let's just take care of this guy first."

Finally safe back in the back of the Rolls Royce, Jennifer held the dog securely in her arms and said, "Doesn't he have a sweet face?"

"He does," Jonathan agreed. "And hopefully him being so sweet with his sweet face means he isn't hurt or anything."

"No, I don't think so. But I do hope he isn't too scared. I want to snuggle him closer but…"

"But there's no way of knowing how clean he is or if he's got something wrong, yeah," Jonathan said, finishing her sentence. "Let me find somewhere we can take him and see if he's got a chip or anything."

"There's no collar," Jennifer confirmed, shifting the dog in her arms again to check. "If he isn't chipped, can we keep him?"

Jonathan looked at the gray, scruffy animal and the adorable way Jennifer held him. They looked sort of right together. And Jennifer was right, he did have a sweet face. "I think we'll have to," Jonathan said. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I don't want us to get too attached in case he does belong to someone who's out there looking for him."

"You hear that, Mr. Freeway? We're gonna see if you've got a family. And if you don't, well, you've got one anyway, because you're going to be ours," Jennifer said to the dog.

And that sounded good to Jonathan.