Page 36 of Love in Mission City
“You moved in yesterday.”
“Well, my stuff went the day before.”
My father chuckled. “Always the skilled debater.”
I grinned. “You know me well.”
Mom bustled over. “You’re letting all the—” She grinned. “Oh, hi, sweetheart. Miss us so soon?”
I’d been living in the spare room waiting for a studio to come on the market, since they moved into this place.
“Cart!” My mother pressed a hand to her chest in obvious delight.
“Ah, we were spotted.”
She leaned over to greet the dogs.
“Sheffield the Jack Russell and Rosebud the…lovely lady of indeterminate breed.”
“Although Bowser will be excited, I think Tansy will be even more so.”
“Dad, can you take Sheffield’s leash? I want them to stay attached until everyone’s been introduced.”
And those introductions went smoothly.
Bowser came in from his piddle out back and greeted the newcomers with the deference he showed everybody—unless he perceived a threat to Tansy.
Rosebud became overwhelmed, and I tucked her by my side on the couch.
Sheffield got first dibs with Tansy—under Mom’s supervision—and he was as calm as could be. Even snuggled into Tansy’s lap after giving her a kiss.
My sister was delighted.
Rosebud, not to be left out, took her turn. As she’d taken a shine to me, she did the same with my sister. Pure joy.
Dad drove us back to the condo with a cobbled together harness system for the dogs, and by the time we got home, I let out a long breath.
“You bring them back anytime.”
“For Tansy?”
He grinned. “I think for everyone. Bowser had a blast.”
“Yeah.” I held up the bag from Fifties. “Thanks for stopping.” They had the best chicken noodle soup.
He gestured to the storage area of the SUV where dinner for three sat well away from curious canine snouts. “Thanks for the burgers. Your sister’s favorite.”
“Best burgers in Mission City.”
Dad and I exited the minivan and got the leashes organized so I just had to maneuver with the bag of food, the two leashes, and my fob.
No sweat.
I managed and soon exited onto the fourth floor. The dogs had done a quick pee back at my family’s home—on command, no less—and I figured we were good for a few hours. I happened to glance at my door before knocking on Byron’s.
Where the hell are you?
I snickered at the Post-it. Okay, so clearly he hadn’t rested. And had forgotten I was taking them for the day? Then I put myself in his shoes. What would I do if some virtual stranger disappeared with my beloved pets whom I clearly saw as my children? I’d thought we’d bonded last night over food, but obviously I’d misjudged. With care not to upend the bag of food, I knocked.
