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With my cousin’s luck with men, I figured she and Allan might be separated by then, and she’d be eager to reunite with her pet.
But Allan and Nancy are still going strong, and Freya has quickly become so much more than a foster. Mel calls her my “emotional support weasel,” a phrase I’ve started using myself when we’re hanging out around the house, and I need a reminder as to why I’m no longer even trying to date.
I’ve sworn off men because they’re the real weasels. After twenty-two years of dating, and only a handful of relationships that were even functional, let alone enjoyable or stable, I’ve had it. I’m done.
Let the rest of the female race keep fighting the good fight. I’ll stay home and bake cookies and grow increasingly pudgy with a pet who would never break my heart or betray my trust. It wasn’t a hard decision to make, honestly, and became even easier once I adopted Freya. I knew she would never tolerate a man in my life.
But here she is, falling under Wesley’s spell the same way I did.
The sight sends a rush of protective energy flowing through my veins.
I step back, cuddling the ferret closer to my chest, keeping her safe from Wesley’s seductive fingers. “I’m sorry, no. I can’t. I’m busy tomorrow night and all the nights after.”
His lips part, but before he can speak, Barrett calls out from near the fire pits, “Are you okay? Wes? Tyler said you’d been bitten by something?”
As Wes turns toward his brother to explain, I slip away, hurrying back toward the barn, where I hug Mel goodbye and explain I’m taking Freya home before she can castrate any of the McGuire men.
Mel cuts a glance toward the back of the barn before turning back to me. “Are you sure? Mom has spare kennels in the garage. We could tuck Freya into one for a couple hours to decompress if you want to stay.”
I shake my head. “It’s almost eleven and you know I turn into a pumpkin after midnight. But thank you for a beautiful evening.” I lean in to hug her again. “You were a gorgeous bride and the vows were perfect, especially Aaron’s.” We pull back with a laugh, silently acknowledging that her sexy new hubby is the touchy-feely one. I tuck a stray daisy back into her flower crown with a smile. “I couldn’t be happier for you guys. Or Chase. He’s a lucky little boy.”
“That’s what Wes said,” she says, glancing toward the open door again. “Did he find you? I was pretty sure he was coming to apologize.”
“He found me and he did, but it doesn’t matter,” I say, pressing on before she can respond. “And I don’t need to be fixed up with anyone, Mel. Especially someone I know isn’t right for me.”
Mel’s lips turn down at the edges. “But—”
“No buts,” I cut in, forcing a grin as I add. “Remember, I’ve sworn off men. For keeps. It’s just me and Freya from now on, and I feel good about that. Honestly. Sometimes quitting is a good thing. Very freeing.”
Mel sighs. “Okay. Well, I hope you and the weasel get home safe. And enjoy your time off. We’ve both earned two weeks of fun!”
“Have a fantastic honeymoon!” I wave and start toward the opposite end of the barn, toward the even larger doors and the path leading up to the McGuire farmhouse. I’m nearly to the field across the street, now filled with wedding guests’ cars, when I catch a whiff of sweet-smelling smoke that takes me straight back to high school.
I haven’t smelled a clove cigarette in ages. I’m pretty sure they’re illegal in the U.S. in fact…
I turn to see a glowing red dot in the shadows on the front porch. There’s just enough light from the lamp by the door to make out the outline of a woman in a long dress with a spiky halo around her head.
“Binx?” I ask, knowing her by the hair.
She shaved her long, gorgeous brown locks into a buzz cut several months ago, an action that scandalized the entire McGuire clan—especially her mother. She’s been growing it out ever since, but it’s still only a few inches long.
“Hey,” she murmurs in her husky voice as I cross to the porch. “Don’t tell the clan that you caught me smoking, okay? Especially not my secret stash of cloves. I thought I had time before anyone else decided to leave. Just needed something to take the edge off.” She stubs the cigarette out in the top of a mason jar on the windowsill. “Weddings, right?”
I sigh. “Yeah, but as far as weddings go, it was a great one.”
“It was,” she says. “I’m really happy for Mel, I’m just…tired. Tired of a gazillion relatives asking me when it’s going to be my turn and why a ‘pretty girl like me’ couldn’t find a date to the wedding and Uncle Richard’s not-so-subtle offer to hook me up with his laser tattoo removal specialist.”
I make a sympathetic sound that Freya echoes, clucking low in her throat. As much as my sweet beast reviles the male of the species, she adores women, Binx in particular. When she squirms in my arms, I release her onto the porch without hesitation.
“Aw, hey there, slinky girl,” Binx says, a smile in her voice as Freya hops up onto her lap. “You like my tattoos, don’t you?”
Freya clucks in agreement and scampers up the front of Binx’s dress to wrap around her neck, like a living mink stole from the 1920s.
“She does and I do, too,” I say. “I thought the full sleeve looked beautiful with your bridesmaid dress. The blue made the pinks and yellows in the flowers pop, and I hardly noticed the skull.”
Binx chuckles. “You’re sweet. My mother noticed the skull, big time. She threatened to drag me into the bathroom and have Dad sit on me while she tried to cover it up with foundation. The only way I escaped without an episode of adult child abuse was by threatening to leave and never come back. And to miss Mel’s wedding.”
The words connect like an elbow to the gut. In McGuire-land that’s a serious threat, and one I’m sure is going to have ripple effects for some time to come. “Wow.”
