Page 193 of Will Bark for Pizza
“I think they’re going to be distracted for a little bit,” I said, wiping another happy tear from my cheek. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That we should go tell your dad the good news?” Beckett answered.
“Oh,” I said on a blush. “That’s probably a good idea too.”
“What were you thinking?” he asked, low against my ear.
“That we could sneak away upstairs. But we should really go tell my dad about Margene. He’ll want to know.”
Beckett clicked the leash onto Husker’s collar. “For the record, Red, I’malwaysthinking about sneaking off upstairs with you.”
A full-body tingle skittered up and down, settling in my core. Making me wish we could hit the pause button soI could enjoy some alone time with the man I loved more than I thought possible. We’d make up for it later.
“We’ll be back,” I said to the group before I surrendered to temptation and dragged Beckett upstairs. “We’re going to tell Dad.”
Beckett laced his fingers through mine again, and we headed down the block to the hardware store. Husker walked in front of us in his usual zigzags. The sun warmed my skin and I looked up to the clear blue sky. I hoped Mom heard the good news too.
Half a block down, Husker yanked hard on the leash.
“Chipmunk?” I asked.
“Your brother,” Beckett said, nodding toward Luke. He stood near the curb, dressed in his police uniform, typing quickly on his phone. He looked grumpy, but it was hard to tell by his frown alone if he was in a bad mood or just a normal one.
“Are you giving someone a virtual parking ticket?” I teased.
“No,” Luke answered, sounding extra sour. Guess it was a bad-mood day. “Just arguing with a fuckingKarenabout my pet policy.”
My brother owned a duplex in town, lived in one side and rented out the other. At family dinner last week, I remembered him saying his long-term tenants moved out recently. He floated the idea of short-term rentals during the summer and early fall months. I wondered which this was.
“What kind of pet?” I asked.
“A dog.”
Husker tilted his head as if to askwhat’s your problem with dogs?
“What’s the issue?” I asked. “You like dogs.”
“We spent two days replacing all the baseboards the last dog ate,” Beckett said to me.
“She’s trying to convince me her dog isn’t a chewer, but she’s doing a shitty job,” Luke said, shoving his phone into his uniform shirt pocket.
He lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head, his eyes looking weary. As though he’d been losing sleep. Over his pet policy?
I should leave well enough alone, but I couldn’t resist. “How so?”
“Failing service dog training doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence. If it weren’t a month-long rental and the end of tourist season, I’d have blocked her ass by now. I don’t have time for this shit.”
“Can you make her pay a pet deposit or something?” I suggested.
“Money doesn’t buy back time,” Luke grumbled. “What are you two doing out and about? I thought there was a highly anticipated book club meeting happening right about now.”
“Margene’s been caught,” I told him, a smile stretching my cheeks. “She’s in jail.”
“You’re serious?”
“Apparently, Nana has bounty hunter friends. Who knew?” Beckett added.
“We’re going to tell Dad the news. Want to come?” I asked.
