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The dark-tinted window was partially open. A black nose pressed against the narrow crack, sniffing wildly. Andie’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t seen Minx in almost a year, for Minx’s sake, and Scott knew that. What kind of game was this?
“Scott…”
He shut the trunk. Came around to the passenger side carrying a box of chew toys, bowls and treats. “What are you waiting for? Open the door and take your dog home.”
In this moment, she hated him a little bit less. She pulled the handle, felt a whoosh of cool as it escaped the air-conditioned interior. Seventy pounds of energized muscle sprang out into her waiting arms. God, how she’d missed her pretty doggie.
Minx allowed the immobility briefly before becoming a black-and-tan streak as she blitzed around the front lawn, tongue flopping from the side of her long, goofy face. At ten years old, the sweet Dobie still bounced like a puppy. And she was home.
* * *
MASON
Mason sat in his truck, staring at the blue streamers and balloons. The giant number one stuck into the front lawn. Kid noise drifted into the cab through the open windows—a mixture of giddy voices and crying babies. He didn’t want to be here. Not solo. Not this time around.
He grabbed the gift bag and headed up the driveway to the backyard. Party central. At least a dozen kids in various ages and stages. Close to double that in corresponding adults. Mom, dad, kid. Mom, dad, kid, kid. Dad, other dad, kid. Etcetera. Then…him. The sore, single thumb.
He scooped a beer from the cooler, a lawn chair from the circle and found a shady spot near the fence. Inconspicuously present. And right on time for presents.
The process went faster than it had for Josh and Jane’s first kid’s first birthday. Hallelujah. This time, no reading every verse on every hokey card, no passing the gift around the circle. A simple announcement of the giver, hold up the present, and bam, done. Pretty efficient—until they came to his.
“Ooh, look at this…the gift bag is actually a pillow case. And it’s got trucks all over it. Oh my gosh, it even has Will’s name stitched on it!” Jane fingered the tiny card Andie had secured to her creation with an oversized diaper pin. “From Mason and Andie.” Jane pulled out the items Andie had chosen on their market shopping trip. When Jane finished squealing like a third-grader, she looked up, searching the yard until she spotted him. “Thanks, Mason and…oh, you’re alone today? That’s too bad.”
Yeah, he thought so too. Especially now that everyone whowasn’talone was gawking. Jane’s husband whispered in her ear. Aw, hell. Nice going, buddy. Had to enlighten her in the middle of a crowd, huh?
“Oh, Mason, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had…uh…” Jane turned redder than red. “Should I send Andie a thank-you card, or…”
“Let’s go withor,”he said, raising his beer to the yard full of mostly familiar faces.
The next hour and a half crawled by. He successfully blended into the background. Relaxed some as he watched. The odd man out today, and much of the time since he hadn’t joined the ranks of marriage and parenthood, he still enjoyed this type of gathering. Surrounded by good vibes, even when one, or several, of the kids started wailing.
Such as now. The birthday boy had passed the tipping point and was completely melting down. Jane was unsuccessfully trying to calm him and looking as if she might join him in the freak-out any second. Out of the throng, Josh appeared. Brushed her hair aside to kiss her cheek, then took their adopted son into his arms and disappeared into the house. No words exchanged. But anybody with eyes could see the love.
Everywhere Mason looked in this group, love was in the smallest actions. Between husbands and wives, parents and their kids…
Well, fuck him. He’d been blind as well as dumb.
* * *
MASON
Friday, finally. Waiting the entire week had almost fucking killed him. So had Lasha, when he’d called to ask for a favor. Convincing Andie’s man-eating best friend that he’d come to his senses—permanently—had cost him three cocktails and a chunk of pride. But it was worth it.
He spotted Andie easily. Automatically, as if he were tuned to her frequency, or some cheesy bullshit like that.
Tonight, she wore a formfitting green t-shirt, black shorts that showed off her incredible legs and a ponytail peeking out the back of a ball cap. Similar to the first time he’d seen her. One big difference—sneakers in place of her customary sexy heels. Better suited for dog-walking, a part of her life she’d recently regained. She stood at the fence, well away from the bleachers. Her dog sat dutifully at her side while both watched Dylan’s game.
After Lasha had decided to trust him, she’d told him about Scott’s big gesture in returning Minx. The closest thing to an apology for the controlling bastard. She’d also told him Scott had accepted Andie’s feelings, or lack thereof.
Surprisingly, Lasha had sort of defended Scott. “At least he fought for what he wanted, even though he fought dirty,” she’d said. Then she’d demanded to know ifhewas going to fight for Andie.
Fucking right, he was. Starting now. He removed the wrapper from the baseball he’d brought. Rolled it carefully but directly at the dog. Minx took it into her mouth immediately.
Andie looked down at Minx mouthing the ball. “Minxie, drop that.” The dog wasn’t having any part of that command. “Minx. Drop it.” But the only dropping going on was by Andie, now on her knees, alternating between reasoning, scolding and attempting to pry the ball from Minx’s determined jaw. “Don’t you dare grumble at me, missy.”
Preoccupied by her battle with the dog, she didn’t notice his approach. Perfect. “Hey, can I get my ball back?”
“I’m so sorry, she won’t give it t—” Her voice faded to nothing as her eyes moved from his shoes, up his legs, all the way to his face. “Mason.”
