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“Did you put the spider there? That is your M.O., Mason.”
“I didn’t put the damn spider there.”
Fran rolled her eyes and pushed off the car. “If you say so. I hate to drop her and run, but I have to finish packing, otherwise Matt will end up packing his ski suit for the Maldives.”
I snorted. “Like you did that time we went to Florida?”
“It was January, and you told me we were skiing.”
“I said surfing.”
“Whatever.” She punched me in the arm. “Oh, here.” She dipped into her back pocket and pulled out a key. “Spare key for our place. Just in case Maya decides she absolutely must have something I made her leave behind.”
I took the key with a grateful smile. “That sounds about right. Don’t worry; we’ll be fine. I’m working from home anyway this week.”
“Turn on Shimmer and Shine and she’ll be fine. Stupid little show with genies. The theme song is as irritating as that stupid baby shark thing. Don’t you dare sing it!”
I grinned, pocketing the key. “Thanks. We’ll be fine. No doubt she’ll make me Facebook you photos of absolutely everything.”
“And I will welcome them happily.” She smiled, then reached over for a one-arm hugged, not really hugging me at all.
I laughed. “Have fun.”
“Thanks. Tell Maya I’ll call her tomorrow when we land.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Shut up, Mason.” She opened the door and paused before getting in. “Try not to fall back in love with your neighbor before I get back.”
I glared at her. “Why don’t you f—”
“Dadda! I can find my jarmers!”
Fran tapped the side of her nose, winked, and waved to Maya.
“Bye, Mama!” Maya waved with both hands then turned to me. “Dadda! I tired! Jarmers!”
Fran’s laughter was drowned out by the sound of her engine, and I turned back to the house. “Damn, Mason!”
I looked back at Fran. “What?”
“Mom promised to take her to the dog shelter tomorrow before I remembered we were on vacation. I kind of told Maya you’d take her instead.”
“If you think I’m getting a dog, Francesca, you can think again.”
“You just have to take her. She likes to look at the puppies.”
“I’m not getting a darn dog!”
She held up her hands. “Just look. That’s all. They let the kids play with them on Thursdays between one and three, okay?”
I shook my head. “No. That’s not okay. I have to work.”
“It’s your funeral, then. She goes most weeks.”
I sighed and threw up a half-hearted wave.
I didn’t care what she said. I was not getting a dog.
***
I had a dog.
Apparently, the ability to say ‘no’ to my daughter was disappearing the older she got, and I was now the proud owner of a round ball of fluff I was informed was called a Shih Tzu.
Pronounced shit-zoo, and not the thing you wanted your three-year-old telling everyone you were getting in the middle of the pet store.
We would be bringing her home tomorrow, but for now, I had half of said pet store in the trunk of my car.
“Can she seep in my room, Dadda?” Maya took the fluffy bed I handed her and looked at me with her big, blue eyes. “Peas?”
“I guess that’s fine when you’re here. She has to go in a crate at night at first, though, until she’s house trained.” I had no idea how to house train a dog.
“The crate in my room, yeah?”
“She might cry.”
“I wipe her tears. It okay.” She trotted off toward the front door, and I grabbed a box full of puppy food and biscuits.
What had I gotten myself into here?
I put the food down so I could unlock the door. Maya rushed inside before I’d even taken the key out of the door, and I almost tripped over the dog food.
I was going to spend the next twelve years tripping over the actual dog, wasn’t I?
With a sigh, I pushed the food into the kitchen and went back out to the car. Judging by the thundering around upstairs, my little fairy elephant was busy finding a home for the bed that would ultimately move into the crate as soon as the dog came home tomorrow.
I hauled the crate box out of the trunk. It was damn heavy, and I wasn’t entirely sure I needed one as big as I had. The guy in the store had talked me into it, but my first clue should have been the dog on the front.
Looked like a damn police dog.
“What’s that?”
I looked over at Immy’s porch where her grandmother, Jen, was leaning so far over the side of the porch I was pretty sure she was going to take a tumble. “Good afternoon, Jen!”
“Yeah, yeah. What’s that? You getting a Rottweiler?”
“Uh, no, ma’am. A Shih Tzu.”
“Why are you getting a Shih Tzu?”
“I was outvoted by a three-year-old for a dog I didn’t even want.”
She cackled, straightening up. “Kids suck. When are you getting the little frou-frou fucker?”
