Page 146 of Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout)
Waylon was in the kitchen with me in case I dropped any of the aforementioned leftovers.
“Fine. But don’t think you can look at me with that droopy face and get a treat every time,” I warned the dog as I reached into the mason jar of dog treats I hadn’t been able to resist at Nina’s dad’s pet shop.
Waylon wolfed down his biscuit with an appreciative full-butt wiggle.
“Ouch! Damn it!”
“Waylay! Language!” I yelled.
“Sorry!” she called back.
“Busted,” Knox sang not quite quietly enough.
“Knox!”
“Sorry!”
I shook my head.
“What are we going to do with them?” I asked Waylon.
The dog belched and wagged his tail.
Outside, Waylay gave a triumphant whoop, and Knox punched both fists in the air as sparks became flames. They high-fived.
I snapped a picture of them celebrating and sent it to Stef.
Me: Spending the evening with two pyromaniacs. How’s your night going?
He responded less than a minute later with a close-up of a dignified-looking horse.
Stef: I think I’m in love. How sexy would I be as a horse farmer?
Me: The sexiest.
“Aunt Naomi!” Waylay burst through the screen door as I wiped down the counter tops. “We got the fire started. We’re ready for s’mores!”
She had dirt on her face and grass stains on her t-shirt. But she looked like a happy eleven-year-old.
“Then I guess we’d better get them started.” With a flourish, I pulled the dish towel off the s’mores platter I’d assembled.
“Whoa.”
“Let’s go, ladies,” Knox called from outside.
“You heard the man,” I said, nudging her toward the door.
“He makes you smile.”
“What?”
“Knox. He makes you smile. A lot. And he looks at you like he likes you a lot.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Oh, yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It’s cool.”
We ate too many s’mores and sat around the campfire until dark. I expected Knox to make an excuse to head home, but he followed us inside and helped me clean up while Waylay—and Waylon—went upstairs to brush her teeth.
