Page 35 of Wag More Bark Less

I ignored the throbbing below my waistband and instead put the sheets in the dryer, hung the entire pile of clean laundry that had been collecting on a sitting chair in my bedroom for who the hell knew how long, and alphabetized the majority of the books on my bookshelf. I dusted the shelf reserved for Kira’s books, and even considered reading one. But I was too weirded out by the idea of reading sex scenes my sister wrote, so I put the book back in place.

Huh, apparently that was the cold shower I needed.

Crisis averted.

I was wrestling the fitted sheet into submission when I heard a faint ringing. I searched the bedroom, lifting the bunched-up comforter and searching beneath the pillows to no avail.

I listened closer and realized my phone was in another room.

After two more rings, I found it in the kitchen and swiped to answer so it wouldn’t go to voicemail, not realizing it was a video call.

“Uncle Luke, did you lose your shirt?”

“I’m doing laundry. Can I borrow one of yours?”

Opal giggled a no, revealing her tongue was stained the same blue as her lips, as though she recently finished a Popsicle.

“Why not? Boys can wear pink.”

“My shirts are too small.”

“What she means to say is as much as we’d pay to see you get stuck in a little girl’s shirt, she doesn’t want you to rip any of hers Hulk style,” Connor said, poking his head over Opal’s shoulder so his face appeared on the screen. “Were you sleeping?”

“So what if I was? Is that a crime now?” I snapped a little harsher than intended, but the last thing I wanted was my brother figuring out I was on mandatory leave. He’d find out sooner or later. It was impossible to keep secrets in this town. But I wasn’t mentally prepared for the line of questioning tonight.

“It’s not even my bedtime yet,” Opal said.

“Uncle Luke’s getting old,” Connor explained.

“Did you two call just to harass me?”

“Yes,” Connor said at the same time Opal said, “No.”

“Dad’s taking the boat out tomorrow!” Opal exclaimed, her entire face beaming.

I wasn’t sure whether my brother had taken out his boat all summer, so whatever prompted this unexpected voyage—likely the last of the year—piqued my curiosity. It was possible Opal simply wore him down, but my gut said otherwise.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Grandma Connie said we have to catch dinner if we want her to cook it tomorrow,” Opal explained.

“So, it’s a fishing trip?”

“Yep! Will you come, Uncle Luke?” Opal bounced, and so did my screen.

Sunday dinner at my grandparents’ place was mandatory, barring any true emergency. I got more passes than most because of my line of work. But I wouldn’t be missing tomorrow. I was a bit smug at how quickly my Sunday filled up, but mostly I was relieved that I’d be able to avoid Miss Mayhem for most of the day. Maybe this vacation wasn’t the prison sentence I expected it to be.

“Of course I’ll come.”

“You still got your poles?” Connor asked.

“Yep.”

They were hanging on the back wall of my garage, collecting dust. Which reminded me, I needed to get online to grab a fishing license.

Any tension I was carrying earlier seemed to evaporate into thin air. A few hours of quiet on the remote Ghost Lake sounded exactly like what I needed. As tourists didn’t know about this smaller, private lake, there were zero chances of running into Maggie Holland out there.

“Want me to meet you at the old dock?” I asked.