Page 104 of Stolen for Keeps
“I am. But this cheeky monkey is Claire and Elia Lucas’ son.”
“Aah! Yeah! Of course!” Deputy Granger said, keeping Dylan entertained with his funny faces.
“I’m on babysitting duty,” I said as I helped Dylan up. “I’m Noah’s girlfriend.”
“Well, welcome. You ever need anything, folks know where to find us.”
“Thanks,” I murmured.
They tipped their hats, made a few comments about Paul’s prices being highway robbery, and wandered down the sidewalk to say hi to a woman walking two dogs.
Only then did I let myself breathe fully. They were just…normal. No extra questions. No lingering glances.
Just two locals doing their job.
And, apparently, Dylan’s newest fans.
Sheryn finally caught up to me and narrowed her eyes. “Whoa. What did those lawmen say to you?”
“What?”
“You look like a New Yorker who just got slimed by the Ghostbusters.”
I forced a laugh. “They were just getting caught in Dylan’s orbit. You’re imagining the rest.”
We made our way to the car. I buckled Dylan into his seat, and he immediately launched into a passionate, slightly off-key rendition of “Wheels on the Bus.” I joined in, naturally. We made a whole concert of it on the short drive to the park, his little hands clapping wildly with every verse, mine tapping the wheel to the beat.
The nerves from earlier had mostly melted away by the time I stopped by the park.
I spotted Noah right away.
He’d already laid out the picnic blanket in a shady spot near the cottonwoods. A cooler, a basket, and a thermos stood neatly. And beside him, nose low and ears perked, stood Reko.
It was his first proper outing, with town sidewalks, chatter, and strollers, not just the open fields around The Sundown. He looked equal parts suspicious and curious, sniffing every breeze.
“Ekooooo!” Dylan shouted, arms up like he was greeting a celebrity.
Noah stood, waving us over. “We’ve got turkey sandwiches, crispy waffles, milkshakes, and a dog who’s still not sure if the grass is friend or foe.”
I set Dylan down, and he bolted for the blanket, his legs still finding balance, his enthusiasm years ahead of his coordination.
Reko held his ground until the last second, then gave inwith a slow tail wag and let Dylan throw his arms around his neck. It was a mess of joy, and I felt it bloom in my chest.
We sat and ate. Noah deconstructed the crusts with theatrical flair, tossing in sound effects and running commentary. Dylan insisted on feeding bits of meat to Reko, who accepted each offering with patience.
At some point, Dylan ended up with mustard on his cheek, a chip stuck in his curls, and half a cookie mashed into the front of his overalls. He was the happiest little disaster I’d ever seen.
Noah took one look at him and laughed. “It looks like you’d just dropped him in the condiments section.”
“Hey, I’m doing my best,” I said, wiping at Dylan’s cheek while he squirmed as if I were the one being unreasonable. “You try feeding someone who thinks spoons are the enemy.”
Sheryn sipped her milkshake and grinned. “He’s clearly thriving. You sure he’s not yours, Noah?”
Noah leaned back, his hands raised. “Whoa. I just held the diaper bag, Sheryn. Let’s not start a town rumor.”
I smirked. “Too late. Someone probably already posted about it on the community board.”
“You know what they say,” Sheryn said, poking her straw in her cup. “First comes diaper duty, then comes baby fever.”
