Page 13 of Passion at the Lake

I didn’t know if Julie was the oldest, but she was getting the senior food regardless.

Grace’s kids also rated special-order food bowls. Each was personalized, and the names were under the glaze. Personally, I would have used a Sharpie.

But why the names anyway? Dogs couldn’t read.

King lay down on the biggest dog bed. Julie sat a few feet away, tail still wagging, and watched me intently as I poured kibble into bowls. Izzy had a hold of my jeans. At least I hadn’t worn anything nice for her to destroy.

Ten minutes later, all three dogs were happily chowing down, and I could walk without the littlest one attached to my ankle.

Retrieving my laptop, I powered up my lifeline. This was my element. On the computer, I was queen of the world, make that king of the digital world. I’d learned long ago that men were taken more seriously online than women—much, much more. That’s why I was DarkLord666 online and not DarkMistress or some such.

My machine came on like it always did, but the icons on the lower right showed no internet connection. I opened up Wi-Fi settings and yup, no fucking signal. A quick check around found no router, and no hardwire connection to the outside world either.

Great.

I was in the middle of nowhere, in a tiny shack with a leaky roof, locked up with three furry poop machines, no car, and no internet connection.

I couldn’t go weeks without a connection. The internet was my world, my livelihood. Online, I was somebody important, not the nerdy girl from Peterville who everybody laughed at. Depending on who you were, you either feared DarkLord666 or revered him.

My screen name was actually the one thing I could thank Kevin for. He’d pointed out the obvious, that the people doling out contracts and money thought programming of any sort was a male-only domain. Girls in IT were about as highly regarded as women on a football team.

I’d seen hot chocolate packets during my dog food search. Going back to that cabinet, I pulled one out and added it to a cup of water. The problem arose when I put it in the microwave. Punching the buttons got no response.

It was plugged in—I checked. Great. No stove or oven, and now I’d be reduced to eating out, or maybe cold beans out of a can.

The ring of my phone broke my mental rant.

I checked the screen and was relieved to find it was Grace. I’d been concerned she might ignore my plea and send the number to Kevin.

“I tried calling you,” she complained as soon as I answered. “I know you’re not a very good driver, so you had me worried sick. I almost deleted your voicemail, and you should have called earlier.”

I listened patiently while she made this about her again.

“My phone broke, and I had to get a new one.” That lie was best for her. She didn’t understand the truth about Kevin and the steps I had to take to protect myself. “Just don’t give Kevin this number.”

“I don’t like this stunt of yours, but I’ll play along. Just be careful you don’t take it too far and lose him.”

This was an exact repeat of her words from last week.

“I hear you. Thank you for the advice.” Arguing with her wouldn’t get me anywhere. To her, Kevin was perfect, based on her three dates with him, and I was the delusional, unhappy girl who didn’t understand what she had and needed to be counseled to not let it slip away.

“How are my babies?”

“Just fine.”

She proceeded to give me a five-minute lecture on how to treat them. I’d guessed right about the types of dry food, and she gave me specific instructions for who got what canned food. “They have very delicate digestive systems, so you have to give them the dry in the morning only, and wet at night.”

Oops. I didn’t really care, but asked anyway. “Why the dry in the morning?”

“The dry gives them gas. King and Julie mostly.”

Great. I was going to have to sleep with a pack of farting animals tonight. Not wanting to focus on that, I switched to my problem. “I was looking for the internet connection, but I couldn’t find it.”

“It doesn’t always work.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t even considered asking her about the internet when I planned this. Hell, ranches in Montana twenty miles from the nearest town had internet connections, or so I’d read.

“But you can go up to the big house and get online there. That’s what we do sometimes.”

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