“His son is taking him home to Cincinnati for a bit while he recovers, but he can’t take the dog because his daughter-in-law isn’t a fan of having pets in the house.”
“And I’m not a fan of broccoli, but I eat it because it’s the right thing to do,” Kayla insists. “You cannot keep this dog, Lindsey. I mean, she’s sweet, but she’s also batshit crazy. Like a baby wolf in a teddy bear costume. Or a Chucky doll. Catrick Swayze is going to pack up his shit and leave.”
“She’s in a new place, away from Ron, and probably scared,” I say, though to be fair, I’m not sure she's scared of anything. “She just needs some special attention.”
Kayla scoffs. “My dating life needsspecial attention. What that dog needs is an exorcist.”
“It’s not ideal, but it's just for a bit longer. I can make anything work for a few days.”
She lifts her brows with a judgy stare.
“What?” I counter.
“What if your fibromyalgia flares up?” she asks. “You already work yourself half to death, and now you’re going to spend what little free time you have chasing after a tiny ball of terror?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, waving her off. “I’ll be fine.”
I don’t tell her how worried I am now that the weather is getting cooler. As soon as temperatures start dipping into the forties, that’s when that familiar ache settles into my muscles, my joints go stiff as tree trunks, and my brain becomes thick with an impenetrable fog. One of the benefits of living in Tennessee is the extended summer we get. The holidays approaching signals that, like it or not, winter is coming.
“Uh-huh,” Kayla says. “Just like you werefinea couple years ago after that diabolical snowstorm moved in right after Christmas. You were miserable for more than a month. Granted, part of that was because you refused to take any time off to rest, which is what your body needed most.”
“That was different,” I insist. “That was, quite literally, the perfect storm of events. Besides, I have better coping mechanisms now. I take my meds when I need them, I get regular massages, and I have my TENS unit. Seriously, I’ll be fine.”
“At least bring her to the clinic while we’re there,” Kayla suggests. “We can all help make sure she gets plenty of exercise before you take her home each day.”
“Good idea. And maybe Ben and Ellie will bring the kids over to play with her.” I rake my teeth over my bottom lip and grin. “You wouldn’t want to borrow her for a night, would you?”
She casts a sidelong glance in my direction before pretending to examine her cuticles. “I wish I could, but…oh wait, no I don’t.”
“You can’t blame a girl for trying. I’ll call Ben and Ellie and see if they have plans tomorrow night.”
The clinic closesat noon on Saturdays, so after work, I take June Bug for a walk before crating her so I can venture out for a little Christmas shopping. I start at Laura’s Loft where I find a sweater for my sister-in-law, Ellie. Then I visit Heaven Scent, the local perfumery, where I pick up Aunt Rose’s Secret Weapon and an organic bath set for Lucy’s fiancée, Willow.
It’s a drizzly gray afternoon, but downtown Loving is bustling as I work my way up Main Street. Street lamps wrapped in lush garland with white lights line the sidewalk, and storefronts have already been adorned with fluffy red bows. It’s overcast enough that the lights are already twinkling. It’s almost sixty degrees, but the clouds make it look like it could snow any second. I stretch my neck to the side almost reflexively, and it bends with ease—something I don’t take for granted because I know how quickly that can change.
A yawn crawls out of me as I spot The Southern Bean sign up ahead, shining like the North Star, and decide I’ll stop for a coffee. I’m about to reach for the door when I spot Oliver, the cute firefighter from the clinic. He’s approaching the corner of the street a few yards away, and he’s not alone. Clinging to his arm is the cutest little blue-haired lady wearing a festive green pantsuit. With one hand on the small of her back and the other gripping her fingers to support her, she makes the step onto the curb.
My heart lurches, and when he smiles at her, I can’t help but smile too. I move to the side of the entrance as Oliver and the lady part ways, and he starts in my direction. He spots me, a grin stretching to his ears just as his shoe snags on the pavement, sending him stumbling forward. He manages to regain his footing before he hits the ground and strikes a pose in front of me, holding up jazz hands.
“I totally meant to do that,” he says with a sly smile.
I chuckle. “Of course, you did.Because you’re normally very coordinated.”
He raises his brows and wags his finger at me. “Right. It’s good to see you again, Dr. Haggerty.” His voice is instantly familiar, like the first few notes of an old Bing Crosby Christmas tune.
“Yeah, you too,” I say. “And it’s just Lindsey.”
His face beams like sunshine, sending rays of light slicing through the clouds. “Then it’s nice to see you,Lindsey.”
He’s standing close enough I can smell him, notes of cinnamon and sandalwood mingling with the fresh scent of laundry detergent.
I clear my throat. “So, you’re a firefighterandyou help little old ladies cross the street. Do you also wear a cape and fight bad guys?”
“Only every other weekend. See, if this wasnextSaturday, you might not have recognized me in my Kevlar-infused bodysuit.” He gives me a small wink and folds his muscular arms over his chest, and my brain conjures up an image of himwearingsaid bodysuit that is not at all unpleasant. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, giving me a perfect view of the way his forearms tense and flex. I resist the urge to reach out and touch them.
“You okay?” he asks, eyeing me with a puzzled expression.
“Huh?” That’s when I realize I’ve been staring at him like I used to ogle the Backstreet Boys posters on my wall every night before bed, always making sure to kiss the shiny, flat Kevin Richardson, the most underappreciated of the Backstreet Boys.
