“Oh shit!” I straighten quickly. She's totally right, and I haven't prepared anything. The steaks are still rock solid in the freezer and the grill's still wrapped in plastic in the shed. “Yeah, you're right. We should get going.”
I turn to the group of kids. “Violet, we've got to go, sweetpea.”
Violet's face falls, disappointment evident, and she sighs but gives me a small nod. The sadness in her expression tugs at my heart.
“Cookie and I can bring her home while you get everything ready,” Heather offers. “We need to stop back by the library, so it'll take us an hour or so.”
I hesitate. It's not the first time someone's watched Violet for me, but it would be the first time Heather has. Something about crossing that line makes me uncertain, like I'm asking too much or taking advantage of her kindness. “Are you sure? I don't want to put you out.”
“Are you kidding?” Heather scoffs. “Violet helps me keep Cookie in line. Don't you, honey?”
“Yeah!” Violet jumps in the air to emphasize her point, and I have to bite back a laugh.
“We'll be perfectly fine. Stop worrying.” She leans closer, her lips looking entirely too tempting. “But fair warning, we might stop for ice cream on the way home.”
I chuckle, suddenly wishing I was going with them instead of rushing home to wrestle with the grill.
“Then you better bring me some.”
Chapter 7
Heather
Idrop a bag of dog toys into Logan’s backyard and close the gate behind me, careful of the pie in my other hand. I’ve always loved this yard and thought it was ideal for kids and dogs with its wide fenced-in expanse. The tree line in the back is perfect for privacy, and Logan had installed an impressive swing set and jungle gym right after they moved in.
Violet is playing on a tire swing, and Cookie has taken the opportunity to sploot beneath a nearby tree to catch some zzzzzzs. She has to be exhausted from entertaining kids all afternoon, and she didn’t get her usual nap.
Violet skips over and picks up the bag. “These are for Cookie?”
“Yep.” I eye my poor pooch who’s about to have a rude awakening. “Just so you know, she loves to play fetch.”
“Yay!” Violet reaches in the bag and pulls out a large ball. “Cookie!”
I chuckle as Cookie’s body levitates off the ground for a moment, but impressively, she lands on her feet. She’s obviously not quite awake, but her eyes sharpen the moment she spots the ball in Violet’s hand. Then it’s game on, as if she hadn’t been dead to the world just ten seconds ago.
I’m not quite sure what it is about Violet that Cookie tolerates. Because if I had done the same thing, I would have received attitude galore in the form of eye rolls and a disproportionate amount of judgmental side-eyes for the rest of the night.
Maybe Cookie instinctively knows that Violet needs her right now. Or hell, maybe those two are soulmates. Who knows? I’m just happy it puts a smile on that little girl’s face, bringing her some measure of peace,andshe keeps Cookie busy.
Logan has the grill going full blast on the patio, and I can’t hold back the laugh at his apron. It reads ‘Mr. good looking is cooking’ and it couldn’t have been more accurate.
The apron only emphasizes his tall, muscular physique, and his normally immaculate brown hair stands up in places. I even spot some cobwebs in there. Dark grease stains mar his arms and face, but they only highlight his blue eyes that are twinkling, and there’s a hint of mirth teasing around his mouth.
He looks so yummy, he could be on a magazine cover. I gotta admit, grilling really suits him.
I lift the pie as I approach. “I grabbed this for you, along with that half-gallon of ice cream we promised.”
His eyes widen. “Is that what I think it is?”
“You mean a cherry pie?” Oh, I definitely remember how much he loves cherry pie, especially my mother’s. She’d loved baking for him every time he came over to study. “Absolutely.”
“Gimme!” He drops the tongs and reaches for it. Yanking off the plastic cover, he inhales a deep breath and sighs it out. “Ahhhhhh! That smells amazing!”
“Yeah. I picked it up at Seaside Sweets before we got the ice cream. It’s not my mom’s recipe, but Julie’s might be a little better.” I shove a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare tell my mom I said that.”
“I won’t, I swear.” He laughs, holding up a hand. “How are your parents?”
“Good. They moved up to St. Augustine about five years ago and absolutely love it. Their house is just off Old Town and it’s super cute. It’s a great place to visit if you and Violet ever decide to do a road trip. They’re only two hours north of here.”
