“We'll sit with you,” Barbara said. “I want to see what all the fuss is about. Walt's been going on about this team for weeks.”
“Connor and Evan built that team from scratch,” Walt said, already heading for the door. “They've been coaching these kids for years.”
I followed them outside, where Cal straightened at our approach. Pudding's tail became a blur, his whole body wiggling.
“Hey, boy.” I crouched down, letting him lick my face. “Did you miss me? I was gone forfifteen whole minutes.”
“He's been whining at the door since you went inside.” Cal's voice was warm, fond. His eyes met mine over Pudding's head. “Someone's got separation anxiety.”
“The dog or you?”
“Both.”
Walt cleared his throat loudly. “We taking two vehicles or squeezing into one?”
“Two makes more sense,” Barbara said before I could answer. “That way Walt and I can sneak out early if the game runs late.”
“Sneak out early?” Walt's eyebrows shot up. “Woman, we're staying till the final whistle.”
“We'll see about that.” Barbara patted his arm. “My hip starts acting up after too long on those bleachers.”
“I'll bring you a cushion,” Walt promised, already steering her toward his old truck. “Cal, you take Rosie. We'll meet you there.”
Cal opened the passenger door for me, one hand on the small of my back as I climbed in. The truck still smelled like dog and hay, but now there was a faint hint of my rosemary soap—a bar I'd left on his bathroom counter two weeks ago that he seemed to be enjoying.
“Your uncle's not subtle,” Cal said, pulling out behind Walt's truck.
“He'stryingto give us alone time.” I buckled my seatbelt, watching Walt's taillights ahead. “Like we don't spend every other night together.”
“Maybe he thinks we need to talk.”
“About what? How much his girlfriend has him wrapped around her finger?”
Cal's mouth twitched. “You noticed that, too?”
“Noticed?The man who used to eat breakfast at five-thirty sharp now doesn't even get out of bed until Barbara's ready.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Last week, I caught himhummingwhile doing dishes.”
“The humming's new?”
“Walt doesn't hum. He grunts, he mutters, he occasionally whistles off-key. But humming? That's all Barbara.”
Cal's smile widened. “She's good for him.”
“She really is.” I leaned back against the seat, warmth blooming in my chest. “I've never seen him this happy. Not even during my best summers here as a kid.”
“You jealous?”
“Of seventy-year-old romance? Absolutely.” I reached across the console, threading my fingers through his. “Think we'll be that disgustingly cute when we're their age?”
Cal's thumb brushed across my knuckles. “We're already disgustingly cute.”
“We'reappropriatelycute.” I squeezed his hand. “Sharon showed me the pictures she took of us at the last farmers’ market. Apparently, we're now the official mascots of local romance.”
“We're not mascots.”
“We kind of are. Mrs. Clarke stopped me at the hardware store yesterday to ask when we're getting married.”
Cal's hand tightened on the steering wheel. “What'd you tell her?”
