Page 15 of Starcrossed Colorado

“I know, I’ve met your dad. We’re going to share.”

She shrugged. “Oh, okay. What was that music you were just listening to? Was that you? Are you a singer? Can you teach me to sing?”

Before I could answer any of her questions, Stella got up from the ground and came over to say hello. As soon as Maisie saw her, she gasped. “Are you kidding me? You have a puppy?”

I smiled as I went to hold Stella back. I could tell she was getting excited at the prospect of meeting a new person, and Stella adored kids.

“She’s not really a puppy anymore, but she loves to play, and she’s very friendly. This is Stella.”

The girl waved. “Hi Stella, I’m Maisie. I always wanted a dog.”

“You can pet her if you like.”

Maisie’s eyes went comically round. She only hesitated a half second before going to her knees and hugging Stella around the neck.

Tears sprang into my eyes, because I was a total softie like that.

Stella sat calmly, smiling and panting as Maisie petted her. It wasn’t my business, but I couldn’t help thinking of how this little girl had lost her mom. Dogs were the best at providing unconditional love and comfort.

“She’s really nice,” Maisie said.

“She is. Stella’s my social director.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that Stella makes friends for me wherever I go.”

“Can I be friends with you?”

“If your dad says it’s okay.”

She studied me, then nodded. “I like your smile. It’s a friendly smile. You must have lots of friends.”

“Thank you, Maisie. But here’s a secret about me.” I leaned in. “I’m a little bit shy.”

Her eyes widened again. “Me too! It’s not a secret, though. I’m not supposed to have secrets.”

“Oh, hmm. That’s fair.” I’d stepped into one of those kid-safety things. “I didn’t really mean secret. It’s just something most people don’t realize about me. I’m an introvert. I like having time to myself to think, which means I don’t always feel like peopling. But Stella helps remind me to be social.”

“What’s that fancy book?”

“This?” I held up my journal. It was bound in blue leatherette with embossed flowers. “It’s the place I write down what I’m thinking. Like a diary.”

“I can read a lot of books. Even ones with chapters. And I can write really good, too.”

“I bet you can. I bet you’re top of the class.”

Maisie laughed, a sweet and musical sound.

I decided to turn Ayla Maxwell back on, and I let Maisie flip through the pages of my journal while she petted Stella with her other hand. I doubted a six-year-old could read my messy cursive. I could barely read it myself.

“Mais?” a deep voice called out, just before Ashford appeared in the hallway.

The man did cut an excellent figure. Ashford didn’t have a ball cap on today. His brown hair was rumpled, and he wore snug athletic pants and a black T-shirt with the silhouette of a fighter on it. A martial artist? Was that a term?

Unfortunately, his handsome face turned stormy in an instant. “What’s going on here?”

I stood up. “Dixie let me in.”

---