Page 54 of Patio Lanterns

Rick lifted Mutt out of the tub. The moment all three paws touched the grass, his furry body shook out another frenzied Muttquake that sprayed everything in sight.

Rick definitely got the worst of it, the front of his shirt and jeans soaked through. Robin fell backward in hysterics, droplets glistening in her hair and on her laughing face. “Oh God, you’re drenched.”

He peeled off his sopping wet shirt and wrung out a torrent of soapy, smelly dog bath water. “We may never know what breed Mutt is, but I’m going to take a wild guess he may be part shampoodle.”

18

Robin

Rick insisted that Robin take her shower first. He had a few things left to do, he said, and by the time she emerged wearing only a towel and a smile, she realized it meant he’d done plenty—cleaned up the wash tub, took Mutt for a walk around the yard to do his business, then towel dried him before bringing him in for a bowl of dry food and fresh water.

God, Rick was sweet. Like, so incredibly sweet.

Before hitting the shower himself, Rick invited her to head upstairs to his room and find something dry to change into. She hadn’t really had much of a chance to tour his inner sanctum on her first visit, but now she took her time to closely inspect the details. Impressively, the room was quite tidy, without even a stray sock having missed the laundry hamper. Rick also made a good bed. As much as she appreciated tight corners, she had to fight the urge to whip off her towel and sprawl naked across it to mess it up. Maybe later, she smiled.

The bed was flanked by two bedside tables with identical lamps, with the side of the bed that Rick favoured holding his tablet, a few books, a drinking glass next to an amber pill bottle, and a pair of reading glasses. An image of him reading in bed flashed through her mind, part hot college professor, part shirtless sex god. Rawr.

There was an armchair and an ottoman. On the wall opposite the bed was a large flat screen, and on the dresser directly beneath it was an assortment of change, keys, and a tube of pain relief cream that must’ve been for his knees. It also held a black lacquered box with a lid that immediately drew her curiosity.

She took hold of one corner and lifted it for a peek inside. There, she found a watch and a thick chain, along with a small but hefty jeweller’s box. Upon opening the lid, she discovered a dazzling gold ring that rivaled the size of a monster truck lug nut. Rick’s Grey Cup championship ring was engraved with the team logo and final game score set in a sea of diamonds. Carefully, she put it back precisely as she’d found it, before noticing several wallet-sized photos of Aidan from grade school.

Robin blinked back a sudden swell of emotion. Rick really loved his boy. Well, of course he did.

Her heart ached knowing they struggled in their relationship. It wasn’t like the Pelletiers didn’t have their share of family dysfunction, but there was something especially tragic about a father and a son torn apart. She empathized with Rick wanting to make amends, but she also imagined how hard it must’ve been for Aidan to grow up without his dad, only to have him come back into his life and want the cottage that he’d grown up in and loved. In all the summers Aidan used to hang out at the Blue Canoe, he never spoke about his father, at least not around Robin. It had to be soul-wrenching for both men to have to deal with healing such deep wounds now.

She was well aware that it would likely make things much, much worse for both father and son if Aidan ever found out she’d been sneaking around with Rick. A bitter pang of guilt bit into her gut for not telling Rick that Aidan used to put the tingle in her jingle. Maybe she was selfish for wanting to keep her secrets to herself, but it was best for both of their sakes. Either revelation could threaten Rick and Aidan’s threadbare trust. She couldn’t stand the thought of tearing apart what was left of their frayed relationship.

Better she just shut the hell up.

She opened Rick’s closet to find two robes hanging inside the door. She chose the deep blue one. It was a relief to shed her sticky-damp towel and slip into the instant warmth of Rick’s luxuriously soft robe, scented with his unmistakably manly essence of spice, suede, and sandalwood. She held the velvety lapel against her nose and breathed in deeply. The robe not only smelled like him, but it felt like him too—warm, comforting, surrounding her as if wrapped in his arms. She closed it around her body and cinched the belt at her waist, then picked her towel off the floor and brought it with her downstairs.

Waiting outside the laundry room, Rick looked refreshed and relaxed in a loose-fitting shirt and shorts. His hair was neatly combed back, his face youthfully smooth from having shaved earlier. As she descended the stairs, she felt his eyes raking her body. “Have I mentioned how great you look in my clothes?” he asked.

“I haven’t decided if you’ll ever get this robe back,” she said, handing her towel to him. “It’s so comfy.” It’s so you.

“Yeah, that’s a good one,” he said. He put her towel in the wash with the rest of their clothes, chose the cycle settings, and powered it on. He then flicked off the light switch and reached for Robin’s hand, leading her into the living room which was illuminated by a few candles.

“It doesn’t have quite the ambiance of the Firefly Inn, but I thought it’d be romantic.”

She looked up at him, the gentle flicker of candlelight dancing in his eyes, his handsome features alluringly bathed in the soft glow. This man. So sweet, so attentive, so thoughtful. Robin never imagined actually meeting anyone who would make her feel the way Rick did.

He squeezed her hand. “What can I get you? Another beer? Glass of wine?”

“Whatever you’re having,” she said, squeezing back. “But before you go, kiss me first, would you please? I have been wanting to feel your lips all night, and I don’t think I can wait another second.”

“Oh, baby, all you had to do was ask.” He took her face in his hands, caressing her with his gaze, touching her with such tenderness that she could scarcely breathe, before he lowered his head. The slow floating of his soft, warm lips, the tease of his tongue, and the heated tickle of his breath sent waves of pleasurable warmth rolling low in her belly. She opened her mouth for him, deepening their kiss, needing more of him, wanting all of him.

Gradually, he pulled back, his lips lingering close to hers as if unable to completely move away. “Make yourself comfortable, okay?” he whispered. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Rick went to the kitchen, giving Robin time to retrieve a condom from her purse and slip it into her pocket. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she noticed that several towels had been draped over the far end of the couch for Mutt, who was curled up in a cozy ball and sound asleep. Rick had once again proven how big his heart was in taking care of them both.

Letting sleeping dogs lie, she instead eased into the huge leather recliner in the corner, sinking into its buttery upholstery. It was such a man chair, a mile wide and as soft as a bed with sumptuously thick cushioning.

Rick returned with two glasses of red wine. “Ahem. I believe you’re sitting in my spot, miss.”

“Oh, am I?” she asked, feigning surprise. “I guess we’ll just have to find a way to fit into it together.”

He set the glasses down on the table next to the chair. Robin got up to let him in first, then slipped into the space beside him. She snuggled in under his arm as he pulled her bare legs across his lap. The soft yet coarse hair covering his thighs tickled, but she liked the sensation.

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