Page 72 of Puck Yes

“I know I did,” Hayes says, turning the other way to, presumably, sleep on his stomach.

I close my eyes, having enjoyed the marital benefits indeed.

28

A REWARD PLANNER

Stefan

In the morning, I’m up before Hayes, so I pad through my home, looking for my guest, since she wasn’t in bed when I rose. I spot Ivy on the back deck, calling to her dog in the yard, urging Roxy to come inside. But the little critter isn’t listening. The cinnamon pup is rolling on her back in the grass, soaking up the sun.

I try not to think too hard on how good they look here as I slide open the glass door. Since I learned she was officially single, all I’ve wanted is some company, some fun, and some good times. I’m here for that—to fill my empty nights with one woman. Okay, one woman and a friend. But a tryst, nevertheless.

“Girl, c’mon,” Ivy calls out, a little desperate, but like she’s trying to keep her voice low at the same time. She whips her gaze to me. “Oh, hi. Sun makes her drunk and defiant.” Ivy gestures to the fenced in yard, hemmed by tall hedges. Roxy’s wiggling around on the emerald blades, which catch the early morning rays.

“Understandable. I’ve done the same,” I say.

Ivy shoots me a quizzical look. “Rolled around on the grass?”

“In a manner of speaking. Once you’ve gone through a Scandinavian winter, you soak up the rays whenever you get them.” I nod to the dog. “She seems happy.”

Ivy sighs but smiles as she checks out the dog lolling in the grass. Ivy’s wearing just a T-shirt, and she looks fantastic in the morning. Just as I suspected, since yeah, I did picture this all the times I imagined a littlecompanionshipwith her. She makes the empty mornings better.

“I should round her up soon though. I have things planned today,” Ivy says, fussing with the hem of her shirt, like she’s unsure about how we should interact in the morning.

Doesn’t she know me by now? Touch is my favorite language.

I crowd her, wrap a fist around her lush hair, and gently tug it back while pressing a possessive kiss to her lips.

When I let go, I ask, “What’s on your agenda?”

She takes a few seconds to blink and perhaps to absorb the kiss before she screws up the corner of her lips, then gestures to the house. “I’d better check my planner to be sure. Hayes picked it up last night when he got Roxy.”

That catches the dog’s attention at last, since she scampers across the yard and up the steps, wagging her tail at Ivy, who scoops her up and peppers her head with kisses.

We go inside, sinking down on the couch with the pup. Ivy grabs her canvas bag from the table, then pulls out the planner.

“I guess size does matter,” I say, kind of amazed at the scope of that thing.

She pets the front cover. “In planners, it does. This one is practically perfect.”

It’s pretty and feminine, with whimsical illustrations of shoes and dresses and clothes. When she flips it open to this week, the dates are filled with details about what she has to do.

She slides a pen from a holder on the side. “Hayes got me this one,” she says of the silver pen, then shakes her head. “Wait. Both of you did.”

“Good girl,” I say, then run a hand through her hair as she shows me her plan for the week. Lots of writing and hustling, working on freelance pieces and creating her own content. “And then I reward myself for hitting my goals.”

My chest warms and I rub a hand against my sternum, like I can hold onto this fizzy feeling. This is what I’ve wanted. To soak up all the details of Ivy. “What kind of rewards do you like?”

“A latte. A TV show. A bandana for Roxy. A slice of pie. A new book,” she says, rattling off little pleasures.

“Hmm.”

She turns to me, studying my face. “What’s that hmm for?”

I meet her gaze, a smile tugging at my lips. “How about battery-operated gifts?”

She dips her face.

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