Page 61 of The Way Back Home

After that kiss last night, I don’t know whether to provoke him further or be a good girl so I get rewarded with another. I decide to be like Beau because I can’t resist. “All right, y'all, if August is done playing headmistress, we can all get to work.” I wink at the boys. It hurts my face, but it’s worth it to hear them chuckle. I dare a look at August. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes do it for him, lighting up and crinkling in the corners.

“I thought we were done working,” Beau says, rolling his eyes.

“You wanna get paid? You work. If you don’t need the cash, sugar, you know where the door is. Don’t let it hit you in the ass on your way out.”

Beau’s shoulders slump and Josiah grabs a red T-shirt from the counter with the Paws for Cause logo on it that I had sent over from Fairhope, and tosses it to his friend. Beau pulls off his shirt and put the new one on. Josiah is already wearing his. I yank the cap off Beau’s head and ruffle his fluffy blond hair. “You two are so adorable I could just eat you up with a spoon. Now go get the obstacle course set up in the yard. The doors are supposed to open at nine a.m. sharp.”

“Headmistress, huh?” August says as the boys file out the door. Bettina follows, clutching Betty close to her chest. The two of them are thick as thieves since I brought the piglet home.

I grin up at him. “You like that?”

“Oh sure.” He takes a step toward me and I take one back until I’m pressed against my gleaming new counter. “What man doesn’t like being referred to as a crotchety old woman?”

“Well, you are kinda bossy.” I fight the urge to roam my gaze over his big body. I fail, and wind up taking the long way round, ogling every inch of well-defined muscle straining against his clothes. “Nothing womanly about you though.”

“Not one thing,” he mutters, leaning closer. The front door opens, the little bell above it ringing like a warning, and if the counter wasn’t at my back, I’d have skittered away like a frightened deer. “We ain’t open yet.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” says a familiar voice. “I’m looking for Olivia.”

“Ellie?” I place my hand on August’s arm and peek around his shoulder. “Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

August straightens but doesn’t turn to face our audience, and I squeeze out from between him and the counter and run at my best friend with my arms flung wide while we both squeal like schoolgirls.

“It’s your grand opening, isn’t it? We wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” She lowers her voice to a whisper, “But now that I see what we’re interrupting, I think we probably should have stayed at home.”

“I’m so glad you came,” I say, ignoring her jibes. The only thing I’ve told Ellie about August Cotton is that he’s a Marine, about as accommodating as a park bench in a tornado, and as stubborn as a damn mule. I squeeze my best friend so hard she might be at risk of exploding. When I let go, I tuck my hair behind my ear, and she gasps. “What in hell and damnation happened to your face?”

“Oh, er . . .” I wince. “A drug dealer beat me up.”

Ellie’s eyes go wide. “What?”

I wave it away as if it’s no big deal. “It’s a long story.”

I’m saved from having to explain it by the adorable ten-year-old bursting through my door followed by his emotional support dog, Nutters.

“Aunt Olivia!” Ellie’s son, Spencer, launches himself at me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Hey, Spence.” I stare at Ellie in shock. My best friend just smiles and shrugs. In all the time I’ve known this boy, he’s hugged me only once. Spencer is autistic and has sensory processing disorder. One of the symptoms of that is that he doesn’t like to be touched. “How’s my favorite boy?”

“Good,” he says. Nutters sits by his side, staring up at me. He’s wearing his vest, which means he’s on duty and shouldn’t be petted. He’s fully grown now, and a little overweight for his breed and height. Spence is likely feeding him from off his plate at supper time.

“Where’s Jake?” I ask.

“Out at the car, probably struggling with Maybelle’s carrier,” Ellie says. “Are you going to introduce us, Liv?”

“Lord, where are my manners? Ellie, Spencer, this is August Cotton.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ellie says. She doesn’t offer her hand to shake because her own Marine is as opposed to being touched as Spencer is. “I’ve heard so many great things about you.”

He laughs. “They can’t have been from Olivia then.”

“Oh, she goes on and on about you,” she says, shooting me a pointed look. I glare at her with a wide-eyed gaze that screams, “Shut the hell up before I cut you.” She ignores it. “I’m thinking she’s failed to mention a few things though, mainly about the two of you being so close.”

“Ellie, maybe you should go check on your husband.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s fine,” she says. “I want to hear more about the two of you.”

Of course, right at that exact moment, Jude du Pont walks in carrying a bunch of flowers in one hand and a package of Birthday Cake Oreos in the other. Ellie glances between the doc, August, and me. “Well, it seems my best friend is just full of surprises these days.”

---