Page 104 of Wishing Hearts

She pats me on the cheek. “I can tell. Will you bring him and that little girl around? I’d love to meet her.”

“Yeah,” I say, my emotions doing their best to fill me to the brim. “I’ll do that.”

“Good,” Tilda says, sighing a little. “C’mon now. Time to head home.”

Home. Harrison’s place. Same thing, isn’t it?

Tilda and I separate in the parking lot, and I give her a little wave as she gets into her car. By the time I arrive at Harrison’s familiar blue house, it’s just after five-thirty. Tigger greets me at the front door, her little stumpy tail wagging, and I bend down, giving her a thorough petting and assuring her she’s the sweetest thing in the whole wide world, yes she is. Then I toe off my boots and head into the kitchen. As I expected, Harrison is there, getting supper ready. He looks over his shoulder when I arrive, and a whole swarm of butterflies lets loose in my stomach.

“Hey,” he says softly, giving me a smile before he goes back to stirring whatever is on the stove. It smells good, like tomatoes and herbs.

“Hey, stud,” I reply, coming up behind him and wrapping my arms around his chest. He hums happily, and I nose at his neck, breathing in that sweet scent that makes me equal parts fond and horny.

Harrison chuckles when my cock kicks up its own greeting.

“I needa wash off real quick,” I let him know. “But then I can set the table.” He nods, and I add, “Winnie outside?”

He makes a noise of affirmation. “She’s finishing up her homework in the treehouse.”

Of course she is.

I give Harrison’s cheek a quick kiss before stepping back and hurrying up the stairs. Inside his en suite, I use my own soap—because his gives me a boner—and then dry and dress in clean clothes. I have a few that migrated here after Harrison casually mentioned it would make sense to keep some extras on hand. I wasn’t about to argue.

When I get back downstairs, Winnie is coming through the door. “Hey, li’l miss,” I greet her.

“Hi, Sam,” she says solemnly, trudging past me down the hall.

“Somethin’ the matter?” I ask, following her into the living room. Her backpack is sitting on the couch, and she stuffs a binder inside. Her homework, presumably.

“Astronomers gotta be good at math,” she states, flopping onto the couch. Tigger jumps up beside her, and Winnie pats the dog’s head.

“And that’s a problem?” I ask.

“I’m not good at math,” she says, and now I understand.

“Well, that’s all right.”

She gives me a scowl, and I hasten to reassure her.

“It is,” I say, sitting on the arm of the couch right next to her. “Just ’cause it doesn’t come naturally to you, that doesn’t mean you can’t learn. You might just have to try a li’l harder, and there’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

She doesn’t look convinced, so I give her a nudge.

“Sometimes we gotta fight for our dreams,” I say. “You can still be an astronomer, if that’s really what you want. Your dad and I will help you.”

She’s quiet for a moment, hand running over Tigger’s fur. “You really think I could do it?”

“Of course. Now, d’you needa clean up before supper? It’s almost time to eat.”

Winnie nods, sighing before hopping off the couch. She trots up the stairs, and hoping what I said helped even a little, I return to the kitchen. Harrison is pulling off an oven mitt, and I grab plates to set the table. This time of day has become one of my favorites: supper with Harrison and Winnie.

When we all sit down, I can’t quite gauge Winnie’s mood, but she goes right for the garlic bread, so she must not be too forlorn. Tigger takes up her customary spot beside her.

“I’ve been meanin’ to ask,” I say, dishing up some pasta when Harrison hands the bowl my way, “who picked the name Tigger?”

Harrison and Winnie exchange a look, and I nearly laugh.

“Joint effort, really,” Harrison says. “We were reading a Winnie the Pooh story the night we adopted her. Tigger, still being a puppy, was bouncing around on top of the bed, and it just…fit.”

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