Winding her way down the hill, she made the final turn into her old neighborhood and a sense of rightness, a sense of home, swept through her body. Because there it was, the purple and white Victorian where she’d spent the first half of her life making memories.
They’d arrived, intact, if not a little wrinkled around the edges, to begin their fresh start, leaving behind a history of pain and disappointment.
Complete with clapboard siding, massive stained-glass windows, and widow’s walk, Nonna Rose’s house—now Teagan’s house—butted up to pristine beach, which was shared by the neighbors on Seashell Circle. At one time, this house had meant everything to her but as she pulled up to the empty drive, she was reminded that Nonna was gone, and Teagan’s earlier excitement was painted with a coat of sorrow.
Another thing she intended to change.
With nine seconds to spare, Teagan pulled into the drive and pushed the button to open the side door. Her daughters freed themselves from their boosters and a flurry of arms and legs exploded out of the car. Garbage Disposal sailed through the window as if it was a fence and he was a thoroughbred at the Royal Cup.
Lily ran behind the big magnolia tree in the front yard, lifted her sundress, and squatted—a recently acquired skill. Adhering to thewhere one goes, the other followsphilosophy, Poppy did the potty-squat even though she didn’t have to go. Garbage Disposal barked and ran circles around them.
Teagan dropped her head against the steering wheel, accidently honking the horn and dislodging a cheesy poof from her hair. Yup, that pretty much summed up the past year.
She looked at the dog hair stuck to every surface, including but not limited to the passenger seat, the dash, and interior roof of the car. Then there were the grape juice stains on her armrest and clothes.
“Why couldn’t you have packed lemonade?” That was the one chore she’d left for the morning: packing the kid’s snack bags. Somehow in her exhaustion, she’d packed cheesy poofs and grape juice. It was almost as if karma was doing it on purpose.
She thunked her head to the wheel again, wondering about her next move.
“Careful, you might knock something loose.” The voice startled her—in more ways than one.
She must be hearing things. Her sleep-free, peace-free, caffeine-free state was to blame. Surely when she looked up, no one would be standing outside the window smiling. The voice definitely had a smile to it. And brought a feeling of nostalgia that had her heart racing.
Don’t stroke out.
Teagan closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself. Hard to do when she smelled like vomit and looked like roadkill.
With the bright smile of someone in control of their world, she looked up and—yup.She was definitely hallucinating. Because standing outside her window was a blast from her past, who didnotlook like roadkill. No, her unexpected visitor looked cool, calm, and incredibly handsome.
How was it she’d forgotten his family owned the vacation house next door to Nonna Rose? And how was it that the first time she’d seen him since her divorce she looked as if a convenience store bomb had gone off around her?
Colin West, in nothing but bare feet, wet jeans, and bare chest, still damp from washing his truck, looked like the sexy-dad-next-door.
He twirled his hand in the universal gesture forroll down the windowand, even though her heart wasn’t in it—it was lodged in her throat—she complied.
“Excuse that.” Teagan looked at her daughters racing around the yard with their sundresses repurposed into superhero capes, leaving them naked. “I’m sorry, they’re . . . it’s been a day.”
“Been there.”
At the foreign voice, Garbage Disposal’s head poked out from beneath a shrub. Covered in leaves, with one ear flopping topsy-turvy, he chewed on a garden hose—the neighbor’s garden hose.
“Um, I think my dog . . .”Oh boy.
Garbage Disposal lurched. Hard and fast, galloping across the lawn in record time with all the grace of a flamingo in a snowbank. He was infamous for licking toes, knocking spillable things off tabletops with his tail, and knowing the precise latitude and longitude to give the ultimate doggie-high-fives to the crotch.
“Watch out, he’s bigger than he looks. . . .”
With a single hand motion, Colin said, “Down,” and Garbage Disposal lay down, resting his head on his big paws, looking up at Colin as if he were his new master.
“Good boy.” He crouched down and gave the dog a good rub, which ended with Garbage Disposal rolling over on his back, proudly showing off his doggie bits.
“How did you do that?”
“Magic,” he said, sitting back on his heels. That was it. No “Hello” or “Good to see you” or even “Why the hell are you here?” Just a single evocative word.
“Magic.”
“He’s still got some puppy left. How old is he?” he asked, his attention still on the dog.
