Page 38 of Will Bark for Pizza
What’s that, New Best Friend?
It smells like the lake.
Sniff, sniff, sniff.
“That’s for your mom.”
For Mom?
That’s my mom’s.
It’s for the lake.
So we don’t get wet.
It smells like pondweed.
Abort!
“Let’s go outside, okay?”
Okay!
Bye, Mom!
FOURTEEN
KIRA
The sun slicedthrough my bedroom window, laser beaming right into my sleepy eyes. I didn’t want to close the curtains last night. I was searching the sky for a shooting star, hoping to wish away this special brand of hell.
But I doubted even a dozen shooting stars were enough to save Mom’s bookstore after what Dad told me.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand behind me, cursing at the time.
“Five thirty?” I grumbled, turning my back to the open curtains.
I expected to find Husker, curled up in his dog bed. The older he got, the more sleeping in became his life’s purpose. But his bed was empty.
The door was cracked open, though I distinctly remembered closing it last night. I didn’t want to risk any accidental glances of Beckett Campbell when he finallydecided to head to bed. I had enough trouble keeping those trespassing thoughts at bay.
A faint hint of campfire hung in the air, the memory of me flirting shamelessly with it. What had I been thinking?
I groaned into my pillow. It was too early for any of this.
Against the will of my very tired body, I shoved aside the covers and forced myself out of bed to find my wandering dog.
But before I made it into the hall, I found a purple paddle propped against the doorframe.
Mypurple paddle.
How did he find it?
I was too tired, too stressed, too overwhelmed, to wrangle any of this so early in the morning. I placed the paddle inside my room and closed the door behind me.
Days started early at the farm. The sizzle of bacon and the light hum of conversation traveled to me as I came down the stairs. I expected to find my grandparents sharing breakfast, Husker mooching off of their plates.
He was mooching, all right. But not from Grandpa or Grandma Connie.
