Page 81 of Average Joe

My stomach sank at the mention of that word.Mom.But Bruce gave my hand a lick, my maternal instinct kicked in, and an ache I’d suffered for too long suddenly didn’t throb so hard.

Thirty minutes later, paperwork signed, I stood outside the kennel and stared into those adoring big brown eyes and whispered, “Let’s do this, Bruce.”

His stubby tail seemed to flick twenty beats per second.

As if he knew he’d found his forever home and bestie, the mutt bared his teeth, his paws tapping the cement floor while Marshall hooked the leash onto his thick collar.

We left the building, and the moment the sun hit his face, Bruce took off, doing the Scooby-Doo leg spin, his feet slipping on the pavement.

I braced for what was sure to be a painful fall, but the leash stretched to its limit, and Bruce stopped. The handsome beast looked over his shoulder, panting, and waited for me to catch up.

“Good boy,” I cooed, stepping forward.

Bruce settled into the back seat like we’d enjoyed a thousand road trips together. Three times on the drive home, he stuck his head between the front seats and gave me a big lick. Twice, he rested his chin on my shoulder and sighed.

He was mine. I was in love.

And I was confident that as long as I kept him fed, Bruce was one guy who would never abandon me.

* * *

My new roommate followed me from room to room, sniffing everything his nose could reach. The exploration lasted a good twenty minutes before he stood at the back door and whined.

We headed outside. “Okay, Bruce. This is the backyard.” I gave his butt a pat, and off he ran, enjoying his new kingdom. For a few minutes, I watched, my heart expanding.

Music came from the other side of the fence, and I glanced at the house next door, my heart shrinking right back to its original size.

I hadn’t spoken to Joe in days. And while I missed our rendezvous, I appreciated that, again, he’d given me the space I needed. I only hoped I hadn’t chased him away for good.

The volume stayed at a respectable level, and his choice of radio stations wasn’t disappointing, so I left my earbuds dangling around my neck.

I headed to the shed to grab my ladder, then stopped dead at the sound of Joe singing—deep and rich, hitting the high notes like they were nothing. His voice traveled to his back porch and then into his backyard. Unwelcome flutters erupted in my belly.

Bruce ran toward the fence, then sat, ears cocked. He shot up and danced in a circle, then sniffed the ground along the fence line, his tail taking his butt for a ride.

Patches of gray disrupted the warm sunshine in small bouts, but not enough that I worried about rain. Good day to clean the gutters. My ladder hung at the back of the shed, and it took some creative maneuvering to get it down. As much as I hated climbing the metal contraption, I hated paying someone for a simple chore even more.

By the time I found my work gloves and climbed to cleaning level, Bruce had settled in a shady corner of the porch.

I had an excellent view of Joe’s backyard from my perch. In particular, the rose garden where Joe stood dead center, a Seattle Mariners cap shielding his eyes.

Shirtless and wielding red pruning shears, he sang to the rose bushes while he trimmed, handling each flower with tender grace like Alice used to do, except Alice was never shirtless and she always sang off-key.

God, I missed that woman.

I missed that man, too.

Though the view was spectacular, Joe posed a dangerous distraction, and I couldn’t afford to be laid up because of an unfortunate fall caused by ogling my neighbor. Forcing my attention to the task at hand, I tucked my headphones into my ears and cranked the volume.

By the time I finished, Joe was nowhere to be seen. I put my tools away and returned the ladder to its hooks in the shed. When I stepped back into the sunshine, blinking against the harsh light, I smacked nose to chest into a wall of sweaty, sun-kissed muscle.

“Holy shit!” I slapped his hard pecs and tore my headphones out. “You scared the shit out of me.”

That deep chuckle soothed my agitation.

“Hey, neighbor.” Joe cupped my face and stole a kiss, quick and innocent, but toe-curling nonetheless. And when he pulled away and groaned, “Damn, I like you dirty and sweaty,” every cell in my body sparked to life.

My teeth ached from his sweetness. My hard, weathered soul softened like biscotti dipped into a hot cup of coffee.

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