Page 18 of Every Little Kiss
Paxton thought about this for a moment and then bounced on his toes. “What if we can’t find his family? Can we keep him then?”
Liv knelt and got eye level with her little guy. “His tag has his owner’s name and number on it.” Scrawled right under the name,BULLSEYE. “So I don’t think he will be hard to get ahold of.” In fact, one glance at the owner’s name, and Liv knew exactly which house Bullseye was calling home for the summer. Just like she knew why the thought of dropping him off had her heart racing. “Plus, we talked about this.”
“You said when I got bigger. Look.” Paxton pointed to the new pencil mark on the door frame. Since this used to be Sam’s room, it was right next to his father’s growth marks. “Dad was only here when he got Stanly Dog.” Stanly Dog was Sam’s childhood pet, more of his best pal, really. And Paxton’s stuffed toy’s namesake. He had been a giant white shepherd with big black eyes who could do a zillion tricks and looked a lot like Paxton’s favorite superhero. “And I’m all the way up here.”
All the way up hereconstituted a quarter of an inch, but to a kid who ranked in the tenth percentile in height and weight, that quarter inch was a big deal.
“Pets are a lot of responsibility, sweetie. Between you starting big-kid school in August and my work schedule, it wouldn’t be fair to the dog. Maybe when things settle down. Okay?”
Paxton nodded and let out a sigh twice his size. All of the excitement he’d had a moment ago vanished, and in its place was a quiet resignation that had Liv’s soft underbelly rolling over.
Liv couldn’t give him a dog of his very own right then, but she could give him a fun night—something comforting to hang on to while they talked about going back to camp. “Although, I don’t see why he can’t stay for dinner.”
Paxton’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Yes, but after dinner he goes home.”
“Did you hear that? You get to stay for pizza!”
Bullseye barked his thanks, and Paxton jumped up and down, but all Liv heard was her son communicating with someone other than his mother.
Two hours and a glass and a half of wine later, the sun touched down behind the Sierra Nevada, painting the sky a bright orange. From her back patio, Liv could see clear across the lake to the gas lamp–lined main strip of town.
The water was still tonight, barely lapping at the dock a few yards away. A warm summer breeze whispered past, rustling the nearby ponderosas and scenting the air with pine and easier times.
She’d made it through another day. The pizza box was empty, Paxton was in his room getting ready for bed, and all that was left to do was take their dinner guest home. But as Liv walked down the shoreline, her bare feet sinking into the warm sand, Liv realized she had several problems all at once.
Problem one: the dog.
Bullseye didn’t belong to just any neighbor. Per his owner’s name on the tag, which she’d rechecked three times to be certain, it appeared her furry dinner guest was staying at the old Keller cabin, meaning he belonged to her newest neighbor. Mr.Jamison, the tall, dark, and too-dangerous-for-her-good-sense neighbor. A fact that had driven her to distraction all through dinner. What were the chances thathisdog would end up atherhouse on the same day they met?
Which led her to problem two: the chances were slim to unbelievable.
She was just supposed to walk up his steps, knock on his door, and give him one of thoseYou’re never going to believe thisstories? Because he was never going to believe her. Sure, he could think the situation was nothing more than a crazy coincidence. Or he could think of her as plain old crazy.
After blurting out that she was his neighbor and knew exactly where he lived—not to mention the not-so-subtle groping—she wouldn’t be surprised if he thought the lonely widow had seduced his dog into her house with the promise of bacon and belly rubs to stage another run-in with the town’s newest bachelor.
Finally, there was problem number three: no one appeared to be home.
She walked up the back steps and peered through the window into the house. It was completely dark.
With a sigh, Liv thunked her forehead against the glass. She had a dog that didn’t belong to her, a son who needed a pep talk about the joys of summer camp, and there was no sign of life inside the house.
After knocking three times, Liv admitted defeat and looked down at the runaway at her feet, whose tail wagged happily. “On the bright side, problem three eliminates problems one and two.”
Bullseye looked up at her as if to determine what they were going to do next.
“Mr.Keller used to leave a spare key on the porch,” she said, searching the top ledge of the door for the spare key. Nothing.
“If we find it, I can let you inside, go home, and nobody will ever know the difference.”
“Woof!”Bullseye said, objecting to being left alone. The dog had a point. For all she knew, Ford worked the night shift.
“Fine, but sitting on his porch until he comes home isn’t an option.”
In complete agreement, Bullseye tugged on the makeshift leash—a scarf from Liv’s knitting period—and headed toward her house.
“Oh no.” She tugged on the scarf, but he kept walking, his big furry butt waddling with purpose. “Dinner with you was bad enough. You ate all the pepperoni and didn’t even clear your plate.”
