Page 94 of The Mr. Right Checklist

I gaze out at the lake, thinking about how autumn swept into Upstate New York with all her cool grace and colorful glory, easing out the dog days of summer. I was sad to see them go, as they brought barbecues and fishing trips, and so many new proposal clients, Fletch should buy stock in pink carnations. I was finally able to hire Beth, who is nothing short of incredible. Between her marketing skills and my proposal expertise, we’ve grown the business to needing a third person to keep up. After the unforgettable birthday weekend Fletch threw for me, I wish he could be that person. He honored my family’s tradition, decorating the house and waking me up at midnight. We spent the dark, early hours of my birthday gazing up at my parents’ stars as we shared more birthday memories. Then he whisked me off on a surprise trip to Rosebell. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed my hometown. I loved showing him all my favorite places and my childhood home.

Rosebell will always own a special piece of my heart, but I have a new home now. With the help of Fletch’s family and our friends, including Talia and the rest of the lovely Daltons, whom I finally met, I moved into Fletch’s house a month after that fateful night when we proclaimed our love for each other. We learned a hard lesson that night, and we no longer waste any time on assumptions.

“Hey, sunshine, did you find Clem’s stuffed mouse?” Fletch asks as he and Molly come out the front door. He’s carrying Clementine in his crate and checking his phone for the umpteenth time. He’s been fielding texts from his family all week. His mother is trying to coordinate holiday plans with all of us and some out-of-town relatives I’ve yet to meet.

“Yes. Our big fluffy thief hid it in the leaves.” I wave the soggy stuffie and kick something hard. I push the leaves away and pluck the elk antler off the ground. “Aha!” I hold it up like a prize. “I told you I’d find Molly’s antler.”

“I never doubted you would.” He sets Clementine’s carrier in the back of the vehicle, and Molly jumps in beside it. He loves her up, and as I head over, he thumbs out a text and pockets his phone, flashing the warm smile that is no longer rare and still causes hummingbirds to take flight in my chest.

“Your mom again?” Molly goes in for a slobbery kiss, and I gladly accept.

“No, it was John. I texted him earlier to let him know we’d be late for dinner. He was just saying it was fine.”

We were supposed to leave an hour ago, but I convinced Fletch to take one last walk by the lake with me and Molly because it’s just so pretty here. It’s almost five, and it’s a two-hour drive. “I’m glad they’re willing to wait.” I pull Molly’s head from my face. “Okay, stuffie thief, that’s all you get right now.” I give her the antler and put Clementine’s toy in his carrier, giving him some extra love before Fletch closes the back door.

“Ready to go home, beautiful?”

Home. What a magical feeling it is to share a home overflowing with love again. Our own private buffer from the rest of the world.

“I wish we could stay another week. I like having you all to myself.” Between my business and Fletch’s teaching schedule, we have less time together than we had over the summer, but it makes the time we do have that much more special.

“I was thinking the same thing.” His arms circle me. “We’ll come back again soon, but we have to go.”

He kisses me so thoroughly, I go up on my toes, wishing we could cancel dinner and stay for more, but that wouldn’t be fair to Ruby and John. Fletch holds me tighter, making that growling noise I love. “I will never get enough of you,” he rasps against my lips, and kisses me again. “To be continued.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

He helps me into my seat, and I get one last kiss before we get on the road.

I don’t know what it is about road trips that makes me chatter up a storm, but on the drive home, I talk about how much fun we’ve had this week, how much I enjoyed the Bernese mountain dog retreat, and I throw out ideas for Fletch’s birthday next month, all of which he nixes.

“Are you turning into Grumpy No Birthday Gus?” I tease.

“No. I just don’t need a party.” He reaches across the console and takes my hand. “Everything I need is right here in this Rover—” A loud sound cuts through the air, and the Rover veers to the right. Fletch grabs the steering wheel with both hands and slows us down as the telltale flap, flap, flap of a deflated tire rings out. He maneuvers to the side of the road, puts on the flashers, and cuts the engine. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just a flat.” We both look at Molly, who’s looking at us like, Are we there already?

We climb out, and sure enough, the right front tire is flat. “Shit.” Fletch takes out his phone, thumbing out a text. “I’ll let John know we’re going to be later than we thought and call roadside assistance.”

“Don’t be silly. I can change a flat in no time.”

“I don’t even have a jack.”

“Of course you do.”

His brows slant. “I think I’d know if I had a jack.”

“Mm-hm. Says the man who pays a guy to mow his lawn.” Unable to resist teasing him, I push up my sleeves and look up at the gray sky. “I know, Daddy, but he does other things so well.”

“Hey.”

“Open the back, Mr. Fix It. I’ll give you the lesson my daddy gave me when I was thirteen.”

“Thirteen? Really?”

“Yes. Some of us liked getting our hands dirty.” While he puts the leash on Molly, I set Clementine’s carrier in the grass. “Your jack and tire are right under this flap.” I lift the flap in the back and take out the jack and the lug wrench. I reach for the tire, but Fletch stops me.

“I’ll get it.” He hands me Molly’s leash and takes out the spare, setting it on the ground. “Give me the jack.”