Page 28 of Will Bark for Pizza
“You’re not coming over for dinner tonight?”
“Afraid not. I have a phone call to make. Let Connie know?”
“She won’t be happy,” I said, half teasing to lighten the mood. But Connie Weston took skipping the weekly family dinner as a personal offense. I learned that the hard way, the first week I stayed with them.
“She’ll understand this one.”
I nodded.
That was my cue to leave. To head back over to the Kniffen house and offload this drywall beforethe threat of a late afternoon rain shower came to pass. But I couldn’t seem to help myself.
“Do you know anyone in town with a red Jeep? A redheaded woman with a dog?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell. Why?”
“Just want to return something she lost.” It’d been a long shot. The Jeep had out-of-state plates. It stood to reason she was a tourist, but I couldn't shake away one detail: she knew how to get to Ghost Lake, and she seemed quite comfortable out there.
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
“She might be gone by now,” I said, waving away the question as I hopped into the driver’s seat. “She had Nebraska plates.”
“Nebraska?” Joe asked, his attention snapping to me as I closed the door and hung an arm out the open window. “With a dog? Almost sounds like . . . But a redhead, you said?”
“Yeah.”
“Never mind. Wrong person.” Joe lifted his ball cap once more and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I’ll give you a call about that walk-through. Might be able to squeeze it in tomorrow.”
I nodded, and headed for the Kniffen Street house, eager for the manual labor that would help me avoid my sister’s annoying persistence. I’d work until I had to head to the farm for family dinner. With any luck, the sun would set after I successfully avoided any and all red Jeeps.
ELEVEN
KIRA
“Husker, stop stealing my asparagus!”Grandma Connie scolded—not that she meant it. And Husker knew it, as evidenced by the way he trotted off with the stalk he pilfered from her picked pile and lay down in the grass to munch away on his treasure.
I didn’t bother intervening. What was the point? That dog didn’t listen to a damn thing I had to say when Grandma Connie was around.
“All that dog hears isfree treats,” Grandpa chimed in, plucking weeds from the vegetable garden with a hoe.
God, it was good to be back.
After the iced coffee incident, I decided it might be best to secure my room at the farm—and another shower. Dad would be over tonight for the weekly family dinner, and I could talk to him then. We’d go for a walk around the property, away from distractions and my nosy brothers.
“When did you get the new Jeep?” Grandma Connieasked, tossing a few more stalks of asparagus into her bucket.
“Last winter.”
“Looks expensive,” Grandpa said.
I tensed, ready to defend my frivolous purchase. My family knew I wrote books, but they didn’t know under what name. Because I wrote paranormal romance, no one pressed me too hard for information. I was okay with that. But I still felt awkward admitting those books afforded me a very comfortable life, as though I somehow found a glitch in the matrix and happened upon success I didn’t quite deserve.
“Get off her back, Dale,” Grandma Connie said. “Means the girl is doing well. I’m proud of you, honey.”
“Thank you.” The compliment felt like a warm hug I didn’t know I needed. I was embarrassed that I thought my family would be so upset with me that I wouldn’t be welcome home. I was so over being afraid of worst-case scenarios. I wondered if that fear would ever go away. “I can take you for a ride later?”
“Ride?” Grandma Connie shook her head. “I want to drive it.”
“What do you know about driving a Jeep?” Grandpa asked her.
