Page 98 of Wag More Bark Less

Ah, they were looking for a vacation rental. “Were you coming from town?”

“From Granby,” the man said.

“You missed your turn about half a mile back. Look for the giant bear carved out of wood. The turn you want is about a hundred yards past it.”

“Thanks!”

As I waved them off, Maggie joined me. She was wearing my flannel and a dazed smile. Her wavy hair was wild and unruly. “Who was that?”

“Tourists.” I pulled her into my arms, kissing her forehead. “I need to make sure the fire’s out.”

“And then?”

“Then we go get Ellie, pick up dinner, and watch another episode of Star Wars.”

THIRTY-FOUR

MAGGIE

“I’m so excited you’re going to be home for Christmas!” Mom exclaimed from the phone. I was glad I put it on speaker and set it a comfortable three feet away from the crockpot of chili moments ago or I’d need a beat to recover my hearing.

“I come home for Christmas, Mom.”

“Not as much as you think,” she said. “But this is different. We can make a whole event out of it. Shopping, baking, decorating, caroling. Oh! I’m going to host an ugly Christmas sweater party. You’ll help me, right? You used to love those!”

“Sure, but can we just enjoy fall for a minute? Halloween’s still more than a month away.”

When Violet was in Bluebell Springs, I said I was thinking about staying in Lansing through Christmas. I hadn’t committed to it, but apparently my mentioning the possibility out loud counted. It would give me plenty of time to spend with the littles, appease our mother, and figure out what came next. With free room and board at both my sister’s house and then my parents’, I had enough savings to be picky about my next adventure. But what I hadn’t considered was that my sister’s ability to keep a secret was defective due to pregnancy brain.

“Oh, the boys are so excited you’ll be home to take them trick-or-treating. Did you know Ollie wants to be Luke Skywalker?”

“Really?”

“Apparently, your man friend made quite the impression on him with his LEGO collection.”

“I’m not surprised,” I said, laughing.

That Luke had a Star Wars LEGO collection was news to me. But of course he did. I might’ve already known that if we spent time at his place instead of mine. I glanced at the clock on the stove. Six thirty. He’d be home from working on the parade float within the hour. And then, I’d tease him relentlessly until he showed it to me.

“Ollie’s been begging to watch all the movies now,” Mom added. “I’m surprised your sister hasn’t told you about his new obsession. It’s literally the only thing he’s been talking about in the car. Needless to say, Violet’s ready to be home.”

I was behind on my video messages again. I’d intended to catch up last night, but instead I spent the evening on the couch watching the next episode with Luke. We hadn’t intentionally positioned Ellie between us, considering we crossed that whole just friends line the moment I slid my hand onto his bulge yesterday and begged him to give me an orgasm. But my pup had taken it upon herself to sprawl across our laps and pass out cold. She’d been sixty-five pounds of dead weight since Yoda showed up in the first part of the movie.

There’d been no additional canoodling, but the night was so blissfully . . . normal. And after three months of walking on eggshells in Jason’s house, I forgot how nice normal could feel.

Would thorough, toe-curling orgasms also be a part of normal if . . . if what, Maggie?

Right. I wasn’t staying.

But ten years from now, I’d remember the animalistic way Luke looked at me from between my legs. I’d still feel the soft scratching of his beard against my skin. He had more talent in the tip of his tongue than any other man had in his whole being. I squeezed my thighs together to ward off the tingling this realization caused, but it was no use. I wanted more.

We could skip the movie tonight. Get right to the naked part . . .

“Maggie? Are you there?” Mom’s voice called. “Maggie?”

Shit. Focus, Maggie.

“Just checking the chili.” I lifted the lid to make good on my excuse, gave the pot a good stir, and took a tentative taste. It was better, closer to Grandpa’s recipe. But it was still missing something. “What ingredient do you think we’re forgetting?”