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“Congratulations on choosing a better career path than yours truly.” I stretch my hand out and he takes hold for a quick shake, and I notice the time on the large face of his shiny watch. “I hate to cut this short, but I need to get going. I’ve got an early morning shift tomorrow and I have a week’s worth of laundry to take care of.” Standing, I hook my purse over my shoulder and dig out my keys.
Darius rises to tower over me. He really is a large man.
“I’ll walk you back to the shop. My truck’s parked there too.”
Nodding, I reach down, stroking my hand along Brutus’s silky furred back. “He was a doll for me the entire time I worked on him.”
“He loves pretty ladies.” He reaches down, patting Brutus’s head. “Don’t you, bud?”
He thinks I’m pretty?
The walk back to the shop is made in silence. There are only two vehicles in the small lot—my beat-up sedan and his large, shiny truck. Ironically, they’re parked side by side.
Pausing behind my car, I hold up my still half-full cup. “Thank you for the coffee and for lending an ear.”
“It was the least I could do after making your day worse.”
“Well, now you made it better, so you’re off the hook. No more guilty conscience. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the dye I used on Brutus is all made from dog-safe ingredients. It will last for a couple of washes and should fade away over time. Please don’t let my screwup with Brutus keep you from bringing him back again. You can request another groomer. They’re all very capable.” I give Brutus a quick head pat and walk along the side of my car to the driver’s side door.
“What if I decide to keep the rainbow-leopard tramp stamp?” he asks.
“Then I’m your girl.”
CHAPTER3
EVIE
Unlocking the door,I step inside the large mudroom, hanging my keys and purse on one of the coat hooks. I’ve barely slipped my shoes from my feet, when I’m slammed into by a small bundle of energy.
“Mommy, you’re home.”
Wrapping my arms around Tillie, my seven-year-old daughter, I smile down at her. “Yep, I’m home. Did you miss me?”
“I always miss you, but I had fun with daddy.”
“Well, I missed you too.” I press a kiss to her head.
“Daddy wants you to come in and have dinner with us,” she tells me.
Ryan, my ex, is always trying to feed me, and a lot of the time I let him. He’s a much better cook than I am. “That sounds wonderful.” I follow her inside to the kitchen.
“Hey.” Ryan offers a brief smile. “How was work?” He closes a cabinet and sets plates and silverware on the counter.
I shrug. “It was work.” Moving to the fridge, I grab the pitcher of water from inside and pour water into the three glasses on the round table.
“Thank you, Mommy.”
“You’re welcome, honey.” I place the pitcher in the middle of the table and wander over to Ryan. He’s dishing food onto Tillie’s plate. When he’s done, he passes it to me and I carry it over, setting it down in front of her. I return to grab the silverware from the counter and he carries our plates of food to the table. These days, we function like a well-oiled machine, but that hasn’t always been the case. It took years for us to get to this point.
Joining them, I drop onto a chair and immediately dig into the mound of spaghetti and meatballs. Ryan is from an Italian family and he habitually overestimates my appetite.
“This is delicious,” I say.
“Mmm-mmm-mmm,” Tillie sings, rocking side to side.
Ryan smiles. “I’m glad my girls are enjoying it so much.”
“Mommy, what kind of doggies did you see today?”
