Page 67 of Wag More Bark Less

Fall was in full swing today, the brilliant gold of the aspens contrasting the dark green evergreens as if it were their life mission. It was this I missed most when I was thousands of miles overseas in the desert—the autumn season at home. I planned to never miss one again.

I almost told Maggie as much, but instead, I said, “You should enter the chili cookoff. It’s next weekend.”

“I keep seeing signs for that,” Maggie said, thoughtfully. “It’s not like I have anything else going on.”

I let out a laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing else to do,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re just advocating for half the veteran population of Bluebell Springs.”

“That stuff’s easy,” she said, brushing it off as though spending hours behind her laptop helping one grouchy old man after another was no big deal. Those men would never truly express how grateful they were for her help, but I could see it in their eyes. They considered Maggie a godsend, and she’d hardly been in town for a week.

“Hey, you still have my dishes,” Maggie said. “From the chili. I wouldn’t want my host to fine me for stealing his Tupperware when I leave.”

When I leave. Right. Because Maggie Holland wasn’t staying. Bluebell Springs was just a pit stop. Why did I keep forgetting that?

“Hey,” Maggie said, nudging me with her elbow. “It was a joke. You do know what those are, right?”

“You don’t have to be so nice to me,” I mumbled.

“I could make fun of your Star Wars pajama pants,” Maggie offered.

One corner of my mouth quirked up. “You’re just jealous.”

“Very jealous. You a big fan or something?” She was extending an olive branch I didn’t deserve, and it made me squirm. But my discomfort was a small price to pay, so I entertained her.

“Or something.”

“Like, how big of a fan are we talking?” She looked at me intently, as though assessing. “Do you have a Star Wars comforter on your bed, or a closet full of cosplay outfits?”

“No,” I said, omitting that I did have the comforter growing up, as well as movie posters on my walls and a drawer full of collectors’ cards.

“It’s okay if you do. I mean, I don’t get it. But I’ve never seen the movie, so⁠—”

I reached for her elbow, pulling us both to an abrupt stop in the middle of the trail. “You’ve never seen Star Wars?”

“Nope.”

“None of them?”

“There’s more than one?”

“More than one?” I murmured, shaking my head in disbelief, but I was laughing. God, it felt good to laugh again.

My earlier tension melted away, almost as though it was never there at all. I didn’t deserve her kindness—something that seemed to come so effortlessly to her—but I was so fucking thankful for it. As much as I told myself I wanted to avoid her, it was bullshit. The harder I tried to keep my distance, the more reasons I found to be around her. Until last night, I’d been in charge of deciding how close we got.

I didn’t like it when the decision was no longer mine.

I didn’t like not being around her, and that could turn into a fucking problem.

“Is that the lake?” Maggie asked, nodding forward, her eyes lighting up with excitement. I had to force myself to look away from those blue eyes and follow their gaze.

The first hints of Whispering Lake emerged through the aspens, the brilliant blue water a reflection of the cloudless sky. Dark evergreen trees ringed the lake, golden aspens and orange maples framing the view from where we stood. I’d hiked this trail dozens of times in the fall, and yet, I was struck with awe every time the lake first came into view.

“That’s the one.”

“It’s breathtaking. I’m so glad your dad recommended it.”