“Actually, my mom and dad live in a really tiny town in Washington, and I grew up there. I had no urge to go back. But with Deacon telling me how I should move here and how great Hope’s Turn was, I had to see for myself. I visited a few times before deciding to buy a place.” As he spoke, that need to belong to the community grew. “I like the families. I like the kids too, surprisingly. Simon, don’t worry. Meeting you has not made me want to leave town.”
The boy grinned, but Mitch thought he saw relief flash over the kid’s face.
“Are you sure about that?” Becca asked. “Because I think about moving all the time. Then again, I live with him.”
“Hilarious, Mom.” Simon rolled his eyes. “You know, Flash, if I had a house that amazing, I’d stay here, too. You been swimming lately?”
Mitch refused to look at Becca. “Yeah. You should come by and try out the hot tub. It’s great, especially after a workout.”
“That’s cool. I could—”
“Simon,” Becca interrupted. “Mitch is being nice. He’s not really inviting you and all your friends to hang out at his pool 24/7.”
The boy flushed and sat back. “I was just going to say with the Thanksgiving break this week, we could always visit. You and me, Mom. I bet Flash wouldn’t mind. What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Flash?”
Silence filled the car. Mitch had been wondering how to broach the subject of the holiday without coming across as pushy. He wanted to spend time with Becca, but he didn’t want to intrude. Or to look as desperate as he was for the woman.
“My folks are traveling this holiday,” he answered. “They’re coming to visit for Christmas, but Turkey Day is all mine. Deacon and I will probably hang out, watch one of the games on TV or something. He’s kind of weird, though. He likes to watch the dog show every year.”
“Hey, I love that show,” Becca said.
Simon bounced in his seat. “Oh wow. Are we getting a dog this year, Mom? Please?”
“Crap. I walked into that one,” she muttered.
Simon turned to him. “What about you, Flash? Are you getting a dog? You live alone, right? No girlfriend, no friends, no family. So sad.”
“Yeah, he’s just pathetic,” Becca said wryly. “An NFL star with a hefty bank account, good looks, and he lives in an amazing house overlooking the mountains. What a sad, sad life.” She made a face at him, and Mitch grinned.
“Exactly,” Simon went on. “Flash, you—”
“It’s Mitch, Simon. Just Mitch.”
The boy nodded. “Mitch, you need a dog.”
Mitch had been thinking about it. “Yeah? What kind of dog should I get?”
“It depends on what you want.”
Mitch had an idea. “What kind of dog wouldyouget if you could?”
Becca shot him a look.
He ignored her.
“Me?” Simon perked up. “I’d totally get a big dog. ‘Cause the small ones are too yappy. Maybe a Great Dane or an Irish wolfhound. Something cool that can kill you.”
“Why not go Doberman or Rottweiler?”
Simon nodded. “Yeah. Great.”
Becca sighed. “Of course, we have hardly any yard, and those are all big dogs that eat and poop a lot.Sure,a big dog would be just dandy, Simon.”
He shrugged. “Hey. Mitch asked.”
“I did ask.” Mitch saw the familiar turn up the mountain road toward his house. The drive couldn’t be over yet. “When I was growing up, we had a rescue dog. A mutt. She was big, must have had some German Shepherd in her. Weighed seventy-five pounds. And she was the best dog. I loved her.”
“What was her name?”
