Page 17 of Every Little Kiss
“But what, Liv?”
“He’s reading and laughing,” she whispered. From the empty juice box and cookie crumbs, she guessed that he’d somehow managed to sneak a few of Carolyn’s cookies into his room. “He’s in a fort with a dog, reading from his comic books and laughing.”
Like a normal kid.
“But before he can release the poison”—Paxton’s voice was muffled from beneath the covers—“Superdog flies through the air and says, ‘Drop the nuclear kibble, Mammoth Mutt!’ But Mammoth Mutt doesn’t. He sticks his big tooth right in the middle of the bag to rip it open when ...bam!Superdog snags Mammoth by the collar and ties him to the telephone pole with a laser leash.”
“Woof!”The tail-wagging increased with excitement.
“I can hear him,” Avery whispered. “He sounds so happy.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Liv said, thinking about how withdrawn he’d been lately. She must have spoken too loudly because the reading stopped and so did the wagging.
There was some movement inside, then a whole lot of commotion, and like a heat-seeking missile, a black nose poked out in Liv’s direction, followed by two wet, black eyes and the biggest ears Liv had ever seen.
“Woof! Woof! Woof!”
“When did you get a dog?” Avery asked.
“We didn’t.”
“Oh boy.” There was a silent pause where Liv could hear glass bottles clanking through the phone. “Carolyn, casserole, and another stray? I hope you have more than one bottle of wine to wash down this Monday.”
Liv should have been furious. She and Paxton had decided that they’d wait until he was older to get a pet. Her son might be quiet, but that only gave him more time to plot and scheme. Which was how she’d wound up sharing a shower with a garden snake and her morning coffee with a raccoon who had moved into her pantry. If they didn’t have a serious talk, she was going to wind up sharing her bed with a mountain lion.
For some reason the image of the big mountain man from that morning popped into her head, and she found herself smiling. An honest-to-God smile.
Finding Superdog Stan posing as roadkill should have ruined her day. In the past it would have set her back ten steps. But a chance encounter with a charming man had changed all of that.
It wasn’t the flirting, although that had been fun—a little too fun. It was how he’d looked at her, treated her, as if he thought she was interesting. As if she wasn’t broken.
He didn’t ask her how she was holding up or if she was sleeping at night, because he didn’t know to ask her those things. Didn’t know her past. Which was a gift in itself because it allowed her a small glimpse of the woman she wanted to become—gave her hope that she was on the right track.
And the confidence to apply for the Mobile Medic position.
“You know what? I’m going to toast this Monday and celebrate it with pizza from Mile High,” Liv said.
“Pizza?” Her son’s freckled face appeared where his feet had been, and then he smiled, big and bright and so beautiful. “What about Grandma’s tuna casserole?”
“That depends,” Liv said, her tone dialed to litigation attorney.
He went so serious she wanted to laugh. “On what?”
“On if you’d rather have pizza with cupcakes afterward.”
Paxton popped up on his knees, and the dog followed suit. Only the dog was so tall he pulled all the blankets up with him. “Lemon with raspberry frosting?”
Yellow and red. Superdog’s colors. Liv smiled back. “Why not? Life’s too short for casserole.”
Paxton didn’t comment on theLife is too shortpart, but the promise of no casserole had him crawling out from his hideout and wrapping his arms around Liv’s waist. The dog shot across the room and raced at Liv, sheets trailing behind him.
He was like a potato with toothpicks for legs, but he moved with the speed of a cheetah. And right when she thought he’d jump on her, Paxton said, “Sit.”
And bless his little wagging tail, the dog sat.
So when Paxton looked up at her with his big baby blues, so similar to Sam’s, she felt her chest catch, and he asked, “Can we keep him?”
Liv made a big deal of looking at the dog’s collar. It was bright orange with, thankfully, a golden name tag dangling from it. “Looks like he already has a family, and they’re probably worried about him.”
