“Minnie seems to have a habit of surprising me.” Phoebe was crouched on the patio, rubbing Minnie behind her ears. She wore jean cutoffs and a pink-patterned tank top, and I really wished I wasn’t affected by the sight of so much of her exposed skin, but it took real effort to keep myself from checking out her cleavage or the creamy expanse of her legs.
“She likes you,” I said as Minnie flopped to the ground in front of Phoebe, begging for belly rubs.
“Well, I like her too.”
“Sorry for busting in on you like this. Maybe I should start parking down the street.” I’d always parked in the driveway, but it felt different now that Phoebe was living in the cabin. I felt almost like an intruder, and I didn’t like it.
“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” She stood, tugging at the hem of her shorts, which had ridden up, and again, I had to look away.
“Thanks. Well, we’ll get out of your hair.”
“Actually, do you mind if I tag along? I’ve been inside removing wallpaper all morning. I could use a little fresh air.”
I hesitated. Ididwant the chance to talk to Phoebe about the cabin, but these hikes were my quiet time, a chance to bond with my dogs and with nature, and I was already concerned that my physical reaction to Phoebe meant my feelings for her weren’t as dead as I’d hoped. “Sure, but you probably want to change your shoes.” I gestured to her flip-flops.
“Okay,” she said. “Give me just a minute to put on my sneakers.”
I nodded, walking over to the rosebushes while I waited. I leaned toward the nearest bloom, closing my eyes as I inhaled its sweet scent. I’d always loved roses, probably at least partly because of Margery. They reminded me of afternoons here, helping Margery tend her garden and playing with her dog Comet in the backyard.
Hopefully, the Shaws would hire someone to tend the roses for their renters. I planned to suggest it, if I wasn’t able to convince Phoebe to change her mind about renting the place out.
Minnie trotted over with a stick in her mouth, but she didn’t drop it at my feet. She held on to it, staring hopefully at the back door of the cabin.
“Traitor,” I told her, but Minnie was no dummy. She knew I would only throw the stick a few times, whereas Phoebe could potentially be coerced into humoring her for longer. Blue leaned in to sniff a rose, a boy after my own heart. He was a good dog, and once he’d come out of his shell, he’d make someone a wonderful pet. I had already seen him blossom in the week and a half he’d been with me.
The door opened, and Phoebe reappeared wearing aqua sneakers with pink laces. On cue, Minnie dropped the stick at her feet, bouncing in a circle as she barked at Phoebe.
“You’re very subtle,” Phoebe said with a laugh as she picked up the stick and gave it a toss.
Minnie dashed across the yard, pinning the stick to the ground with one front paw before she grabbed it in her mouth and trotted back to Phoebe.
“We should get going, or she’ll have you standing here all afternoon, tossing that stick,” I said.
“She reminds me a little bit of Comet.” A wistful note crept into Phoebe’s voice. “He was the same way with sticks.”
“Yeah, he was.” I led the way over the stream and onto the trail at the far side of the yard. “Have you hiked on these trails at all yet?”
She shook her head. “Not since we were kids.”
“It’s mostly the same,” I told her. “I usually take the dogs to the field where—” I cut myself off as my brain caught up with my mouth. That field was where Phoebe and I had spent countless hours making out as teenagers. We would bring a blanket with us and hide from the world.
“Oh,” Phoebe said quietly.
“But sometimes I cut through to the public trail to the west. It just means I have to put Minnie on leash.”
“Let’s do that,” she suggested.
Yeah, I wasn’t eager to return to the scene of our make-out sessions either. “Sounds like a plan. Minnie!” I called, realizing I’d lost sight of my dog.
There was a crash in the bushes, and Minnie’s bushy black head appeared.
“What kind of dog is she?” Phoebe asked.
“She looks a lot like a Labradoodle, but she’s a shelter dog, so I don’t know for sure. She might just be a fuzzy mutt.”
“She’s definitely fuzzy,” Phoebe agreed.
“You should see her when she’s due for a trim,” I said.