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“It’s still muddy, but it’s great to be back.” I stare out of the window deep into the woodlands that have turned a bright green during our week away.
When mud season struck, and it struck hard, I finally caved in to Raiden’s subtle prodding to go home and visit my folks in Miami. He wanted to meet them and pressed me to reconnect with them that week after the auction. Do it now, because time can become a weight around your neck, making it hard to lift your head and look people in the eye. He was right; letting time slip past would only make it harder to patch things up, so I called them. We ended up speaking on the phone and on occasion, with our new business, I asked Mom and Dad for advice. With us being so busy, and them being so busy, I put off visiting Miami until the Vermont mud finally got to me.
After the awkward arrival at my parents’ place, Rover eased over all the prickly parts of our reunion. He’s a pro, he truly is. With Rover around, we missed our own pooch even more, and now we’re driving from the airport along the main road to Bill and May’s where we’ll pick up our golden retriever pup, Mycroft, before going home to a little cottage we rented in Ashleigh Lake over the winter.
Our version of Rover is only six months old; Raiden and I both love to think that he has superior qualities of deduction and detection, but so far, the only one committing crimes has been Mycroft himself. Raiden’s oldest and most beloved work boots—chewed. The coffee table leg—marked by small, sharp teeth. My throw pillow’s tassels that draped over the loveseat to perfection—gone, only to appear in some puppy poop a day later.
We still love him. To the moon and back.
After the tiny house auction, things took off at an alarming rate. That first week, we tried to get a grip on the magazine coverage, but once the TV show aired, things went crazy. We got featured in several magazines, blogs and TV shows that wouldn’t necessarily be interested in tiny houses, but were more into small space living, whether it was country getaways or New York apartments. It was as if our combination of design and space savviness covered the whole spectrum of everyday living that didn’t involve millionaires and the like—normal people, everyday people, people who related to Raiden and me.
People adore Raiden. I get it—what’s not to love?—but there’s something heartwarming and so touching in seeing this handsome man come into his own in the TV show. The audience loved watching our dynamic and how it unfolded one episode after another. I don’t know with what magic the editors cut and edited what Jack and his team filmed, but in the end, they had our romance thread woven so delicately through the episodes that people were glued to the screen, begging to see what happened next. We found the uproar when we got disqualified hilarious. And, okay, I’ll admit it. Mom was right. That was the moment where Jack’s good TV turned into brilliant TV. Viewers didn’t see it coming and were outraged, but by that time, it hardly mattered. We both knew what happened next, as they of course aired the auction with Raiden’s public declaration of love.
I choked up when we watched the episode together, but Raiden hugged me closer and whispered, “That’s even truer today than it was then.”
Those words led to some intense sexy times. Now I look sideways at my man in the driver’s seat. The mere thought of his hands on my body, his fingertips travelling over my skin, his lips all over my sensitive spots, makes me long for us to be home already.
I’m so blessed. We have each other, and we have a booming business that has leveled the playing field between me and my parents. I’ve showed them what I’ve got in my own way and on my own terms. I’ve made myself proud. Mom’s taken to reposting some of our posts in her own feed, starting a tiny house renaissance of her own. Her influence drove business our way, and that has gone some way toward making amends. To top it all off, we have a puppy, and from the way he’s straining against Bill’s hand on his collar as we drive up towards the farmhouse, he’s about to bolt.
Mycroft is bouncing on the farmhouse porch now, Bill and May laughing even as they try to rein him in with unheeded commands.
Raiden parks his truck. “Ready?” he asks, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Ready.” I laugh. “We can strip and dump our clothes into the washing machine when we walk into the cottage.”
We clamber out and with yelps and tail wags, Mycroft has his muddy paws on my jeans. Raiden is on his haunches next to me and wrestles Mycroft down with tickles. “Here’s our good boy.”
Mycroft slobbers in excitement, his tail wagging, four paws in the air as Raiden rubs his tummy.
Bill and May walk over from the porch, laughing.
“He can go dirty up your place,” May says, but there’s no reproach in her voice. “He’s only been a joy.”
“We’re thinking about getting our own,” Bill says. “After Mac and Cheese moved on, we couldn’t do it, but with this little pup around, I’m tempted.”
“Mac and Cheese?” I ask.
“We’ve had many dogs, but Mac and Cheese were the last,” May says. “Two beagles. They loved eating so much, we ended up calling them Mac and Cheese.”
Awww. Now I feel bad for taking Mycroft home. For a moment we talk about the trip and Miami, and then Bill hands Raiden a key with a wink and a smile. “It’s all done. Cash really came through on this one.”
“Thanks for supervising,” Raiden says. “You’ll come over later this week?”
“Sure thing,” May says, her eyes filled with love.
My gaze hops around because I have no idea what they are talking about. Raiden hugs Bill and May, and I do the same. May has Mycroft’s food and bowls ready in a bag for me, and soon we are bundled in the truck and driving off.
“You tired?” Raiden asks.
“No, I’m good. You?” Traveling from Miami to Ashleigh Lake is much less tiring if you don’t have sleepless nights because of a fight with your mom.
“I’m fine.” He reaches for my hand and pulls it to his thigh.
At the top of the hill, where he should turn right to Ashleigh Lake and home, he turns left towards the barn instead.
“Where’re we going?”
“I want to see how the build’s coming along.”
