Page 43 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

Cold air hits me hard as soon as I open the back door. I have to carry Rosie down the freezing cement steps to the patch of grass. Of course, as soon as I set her down, she’s got to take her time sniffing around. I hop from one foot to the other, taking turns rubbing each on my pant legs in a futile attempt to keep from freezing.

I’m dancing around, rubbing my hands on my bare arms when someone says, “Hey.”

I yelp with surprise, then look up to see Evie standing on the second-floor deck that’s outside the primary bedroom. She’s wrapped in a blanket, half-grinning, half-laughing at me.

“What are you doing?” I chatter, mostly because I’m cold, but also because she scared the hell out of me.

“Looking at the stars.” She wags her chin upward, and my eyes involuntarily follow her motion to the star-filled sky. “What are you doing?”

“Rosie had to go.” I point to her, like Evie can’t see Rosie squatting in our shared back yard. “I’ll clean it up,” I say with a shiver.

“You look cold,” she says to my bare chest.

“I am.” But not too cold for a little pec-flex action. Because she’s not just looking, she’s staring. And she likes what she sees.

“You want to come up for some tea? Or cocoa? Something warm” her voice trails off, and her eyes wander down my chest. It’s possible she’s counting my abs.

“Sure.” I’m already feeling warmer. Rosie yelps and chases her tail in agreement. “Can I bring her? She’ll bark if I don’t.”

Evie cringes and tears her eyes away from me to Rosie, who’s still chasing her tail. Her face softens, and she almost smiles. It’s hard not to when Rosie looks so ridiculous. “I guess that’s okay.”

“I’ll be right up.” I order Rosie inside, and she actually listens. I grab her and my bacon bag, then carry both upstairs.

Evie is waiting for me at her door. I follow her to the kitchen where she hands me her blanket and points me to a chair at her kitchen table. Zach’s, actually. He’s the one who furnished the condo—both units.

“She’s done, right? She won’t go on the floors?” Evie points toward Rosie, who sits patiently at my feet, waiting for bacon.

“She won’t move or make a peep.” I wrap the still-warm blanket around my shoulders. It smells like Evie.

“How do you work that magic?” She takes two mugs from a cabinet. “Tea or cocoa?”

“Lots of bacon bits.” I hold up my baggie. “Hot chocolate, please.”

I give Rosie a bacon bit, then she jumps into my lap. She circles my legs twice before curling into my blanketed lap.

“Can I get some of those?” Evie points to the bacon. “If I slide them under your door when she barks, will she stop?” She fills the mugs with water, and I try not to wince. Hot chocolate with water is the worst.

“Sure,” I say slowly, trying to hold back telling her how to make hot chocolate the right way. But I can’t. “Have you got any milk?”

Her brow creases. “For what?”

“The cocoa.” I sigh. It’s too late to stop now. “It’s no good with water.”

She holds up a package of generic hot chocolate mix. “That’s how it says to do it on the package. Do you have a better way?”

“I mean…” I shrug. “I am a chef.”

Evie tips her head, and her eyebrows go up. “Okay, chef.” She walks to me and sweeps her arm toward the kitchen. “It’s all yours. Show me what to do.”

She looks down at me in the chair, her lips pursed and her eyes dancing with the challenge she just issued.

I stand, ready not just to meet her challenge but to blow it out of the water. With milk. And a few other ingredients.

“Take her.” I drop Rosie in Evie’s arms before she can say no, then shrug off the blanket and wrap it around the two of them.

Evie’s arms curve stiffly under Rosie’s belly. “I don’t really like—”

“She likes you!” I cut in at the same time Rosie snuggles into her chest. It’s more likely Rosie likes the velvety top thing Evie’s wearing, but she doesn’t need to know that.

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