They headed up the drive and disappeared.
“That woman is a bona fide hoot,” I said.
“I’m gone,” Hutch said, and he walked out onto the porch.
I quickly adjusted myself and the door so Tonks couldn’t make a run for it.
“See you tomorrow,” I called.
He didn’t look back, but he did lift a hand over his head and flick his finger out.
God, this guy.
I closed the door.
Tonks howled.
I looked up at the loft and wondered if it was time.
“Want to meet your sister?”I asked my dog.
Tonks glanced over her shoulder at the loft like she knew what I was talking about (she probably did, dogs had sensitive noses too), threw her head back and released a variety of husky trills I was hoping meant “yes.”
“All right,” I muttered nervously.“Let’s give this a go.”
I headed up the spiral staircase.
Tonks came with me.
We both went to the bathroom door.
And we gave it a go.
One couldn’t sayI was sleeping.
I was too stressed out to sleep.
My dog was sleeping, draped over my feet.
Although the sister-sister introduction went well, as in, we hadn’t endured a chase scene, a single hiss or anything even resembling a growl, I was still anxious.
After some circling and sniffing, Tonks didn’t seem to have much interest in Moxie.And Moxie only had interest in reacquainting herself with the house.
But now was now.
I couldn’t keep an eye when I was asleep.
I should have put Moxie back in the bathroom.
On this thought, shit got real when I felt that distinctive sensation a bed had when a cat jumped on it.
I tensed.
I felt Tonks’s head come up.
I turned mine to the side and saw through the moonlight Moxie standing statue still, one paw up, staring at Tonks.
Tonks stared at Moxie.
