But she still remembered.
“Beer’s good,” he said, heading to the leash.
He and Tonks took a stroll.Tonks did her business.Hutch did a scan.Then they went back into the house.
The bag, scarf and jacket were gone, there was a beer in a pint glass on a coaster on the coffee table, and Mabel was sinking into the couch as they walked in.
He divested Tonks of her lead, and she galloped to Mabel.
It was then he noticed that Mabel had a TV over her fireplace.
He couldn’t say he’d hung with her in her place, but he’d never seen it on.
He took off his jacket, dropped it on the back of the couch, joined her and reached for his beer, asking, “You a big TV person?”
She swallowed the sip she was taking and turned to him.“Binge-watching and chill has its time and place.”She pointed to the couch.“That place would be here.But…not really.It’s usually only when I’m really run-down and need to recharge doing something that requires zero thinking.”She gave him a half smile.“Most TV requires zero thinking.”
“I hear that,” he said into his glass.
“Not a TV fan?”
“Don’t own one.”
Her head tipped to the side.“You don’t own a TV?”
Surprise, but not incredulity.
Interest, but not judgement.
Yeah.
Not like any woman he’d met.
“I’ve got my dogs.I’ve got books.I’ve got my guitar.You erase the time of day you’re zoning out in front of that screen, or any screen, you suddenly have time to get your laundry done, your marketing done, emails answered, taxes filed, house cleaned or spend time with people who matter doing shit that feeds you.”He examined her face and finished, “I think you’re with me.”
He said that last because he just noticed she was the same.
Sourdough bread and a workshop twenty yards from her front door.
“Yeah,” she whispered, staring at him.
Tonks, as was Tonks’s wont, was hanging with Mabel, so when Moxie showed, she jumped into his lap.
“You don’t have to—” she began.
But he’d already started petting.“Won’t shock you when I say, I like animals, babe.”
A small smile played at her pretty mouth.“Right.”
She looked to the cold fireplace, reminding him one of the chores that he was going to be seeing to in order to put him visibly in her space was getting her some firewood.Fall was there, winter was coming, and she didn’t have any.
She took another sip, then returned to him.“So, you write your own songs?”
“Yup.”
“I…they’re really good.”
“Thanks.”
