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Once I’ve regained control of my breathing, I prop myself up on my elbow and give her a once-over to make sure she’s okay. The last thing I need is for a stranger to complain that they got hurt in my backyard.
Relief washes over me when she finally lifts her head, and I draw in a deep breath as her gaze meets mine. I’m greeted with a captivating combination of one blue and one green eye. She has a pert nose, full, inviting lips and her cheeks are flushed as she looks down at me. I’m struck by the thought that I’ve never met someone this uniquely beautiful.
“Thanks for catching me.” The woman lets out a melodic laugh as she pushes against my chest and stands up.
She has a smudge of yellow paint on her cheek, and I suppress the urge to wipe it off with my thumb. I’m so lost in my admiration that I’m caught off guard when the dog suddenly darts across the yard, heading for the house.
I scramble off the ground and sprint in the same direction. When I get to the backdoor, I find Lola on the ground, giggling uncontrollably while the dog playfully licks her face. I kick my shoes off before going inside and pulling the dog off Lola. She shoots me a disapproving scowl.
Feet slapping against the floor has me turning to find the woman from the backyard has followed me inside, trailing snow and dirt along with her. This is why I’ve stood my ground when Lola begs me to get a dog. They’re messy, unpredictable, and high-maintenance—all things I like to avoid.
I prefer things to be organized and predictable, which is why I thrive when I have a routine and a structured environment. It’s especially challenging to adjust to unexpected changes.
“Oh gosh, Waffles, what have you gotten yourself into now?” The woman puts her hands on her hips like she’s scolding a child.
“Your dog scared my daughter,” I say with concern, gesturing to the furry culprit.
“No, he didn’t, Daddy,” Lola chimes in. “Waffles was just giving me kisses, weren’t you, boy?” She rewards the mutt with a good scratch behind the ear, and he thumps his tail, reveling in the attention.
I wince at the obscene amount of hair now on Lola’s clothes. This is great. She’s already calling the dog by its name. Next thing I know, she’s going to invite him over for a playdate.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, praying for patience. Dealing with a pair of intruders before dinner wasn’t on tonight’s schedule.
“Waffles is completely harmless,” the stranger says. “He was just eager to meet his new neighbors.”
“Who are you?” I tilt my head at her.
This woman might be attractive, but her lack of manners and careless attitude are bothersome. She’s making herself right at home, without considering the possible intrusion she’s caused by coming into someone’s house uninvited.
“Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Marlow Taylor,” she says with a smile, her eyes bright. “We moved into the pink house next door a couple of days ago. It was a last-minute decision,” she rambles, “but as soon as I saw it posted online, I knew we had to live there.”
I stare at her outstretched hand, reluctant to accept the gesture. Despite my irritation, her presence sparks an unfamiliar fluttering in my stomach.
“Tell me, Marlow, is trespassing on other people’s property and coming into their homes uninvited a regular pastime for you and Waffles?” My tone is mildly sarcastic as I glance back at her.
A flush of embarrassment spreads across her cheeks, and her eyes dim like a flickering candle as she pulls her hand back to her side. Something unpleasant gnaws at me, and a pang of regret creeps in, but I push it aside.
“You’re absolutely right,” she acknowledges. “I apologize for Waffles’ unruly behavior. I let him out to play in the snow while I unpacked and when I went to check on him, he was gone. He must have escaped through a hole in the fence. I figured I could get him out before you noticed, but that didn’t work out so well.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” I deadpan. “How exactly did you plan on getting back to your yard? I saw that you used a ladder to climb over, so I’m assuming it would be tricky to get you and a dog back over the fence without it.”
“Honestly, I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” she admits.
“That’s what I thought,” I mutter under my breath.
“It’s just that Waffles can be quite the handful.” She chews her lower lip. “I was worried what kind of trouble he might get into if I left him unsupervised for too long. He’s not great at following directions.”
That’s the understatement of the century.
“He’s a dog. He’s literally trained to take orders.”
“Um… not Waffles,” Marlow corrects me hesitantly.
“What does that mean?”
“He’s a rescue. I got him from a shelter in Los Angeles and haven’t started training him yet.” She looks down at the ground, shifting her feet side to side. “He’s overly energetic, that’s all.”
As if he can sense that we’re talking about him, Waffles yips while running around Lola. Unfortunately, she finds his antics thoroughly amusing.
