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Chapter Twelve
Jill smiled around at all the dogs that had been brought outside to the shaded tents. The grass was green, and the sky blue, and Mother Nature had even sent along a little bit of a breeze. The dogs ran around in the shade, with plenty of water nearby.
Only a few people could go in at a time, and she, Slate, and Luke currently waited for their turn. Thankfully, the animal shelter had anticipated a lot of people to their afternoon adoption event, and they’d set up tents and water stations for the humans too.
“I like that brown one,” Slate said.
“That’s so specific,” Luke said dryly.
Jill looked away from the dogs to see where Slate was looking. He pointed to a medium-sized dog that could use a haircut who stood near the closest corner of the fenced-off area. He barked and looked around to see if anyone was watching. Barked again. Every few seconds, he seemed to think he could join the fray, and he’d take a step or two forward, only to fall back again.
“He looks like you,” Jill said, causing Slate to turn toward her. “You know, the shaggy hair.”
“We can trim him up,” Slate said.
“Oh yeah?” Jill reached for his hand, not embarrassed to do so in front of Luke. “Are you going to cut your hair soon too?”
“I was thinking about it,” he said, reaching up to run his hand along his beard. Jill grinned at him, wishing they were alone so she could kiss him again. That beard had been soft against her skin. “My mother would die if she saw me like this.” He smiled like he wouldn’t mind that.
Luke chuckled and said, “I found a great barber. He’ll make you look respectable.”
“Hmm.” Slate took a step forward as the line moved, and Jill went with him.
Her phone buzzed in her shoulder bag, and she took it out. Hannah had texted, and Jill’s heart stopped cold with the short message.
First, she’d sent a crying emoji.Need ice cream. Can you stop on the way back to the ranch?The last emoji was a broken heart.
Ice cream, combined with those particular emojis could only mean one thing. Boyfriend trouble.I can, Jill said.But why do I need to? Is this butter pecan level? Or are we talking vanilla bean?
Butter pecan.
The air left Jill’s lungs, and she groaned.
“What’s wrong?” Slate asked, peering over her arm at her phone.
She tilted it toward him so he could see it better. “Bill broke up with Hannah.”
She saw the way Luke turned toward her immediately, about the same time she witnessed the confusion roll across Slate’s face. “How do you know that?” He pointed to her screen. “From that?”
“Butter pecan level is a break up,” Jill said. “Ice cream is what we binge on when we have boyfriend trouble.”
He met her eyes. “So you’re telling me that if we break up, you’re going to binge butter pecan ice cream with Hannah?”
Jill searched his face, not liking the turn this conversation had taken at all. “No,” she said slowly. “Hannah’s kryptonite is butter pecan. Mine is peanut butter cookie dough. There arelevels, Slate.”
“Oh, levels.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “What kind did you eat when you broke up with your last boyfriend? Mike, right?”
“First off, he broke up with me,” Jill said. “Usually, when a woman breaks up with a man, it’s not an ice cream level event. Now, there might have been copious amounts of ice cream consumedbeforethe break up, while we’re trying to decide if we should end the relationship or not.”
“Maybe that’s what happened here,” Luke said, having pressed in very close to Slate to read the texts on Jill’s phone. “Maybe she needs butter pecan to decide if she’s going to break up with Bill.”
Jill shook her head. “It’s cute how you guys think you can figure out what’s going on.” She looked back at the screen and tapped out a quick reply.I’ll get a gallon. Hot fudge?
She showed it to Slate and Luke. “Now, see, if she says yes, we’re in real trouble. Like, major. She’s probably sequestered in her room right now crying kind of major trouble.” She glanced toward the parking lot, worrying filling her chest. “I should go if she says yes.”
She hoped Hannah wouldn’t say yes, but she had been dating Bill for a while now. Six or seven months at least, and Jill knew they’d started to talk about their future together.
“You should?” Slate asked.
