Page 42

He crossed his arms. “Doesn’t matter. Still dries out her skin. She has flaky patches...” He pointed to one of the most virulent hot spots, which, Abby knew would have been flaky anyway.
It hadn’t taken long for Abby to devolve into humming in response to whatever the on-call vet had said, filing it away to check with Dr. Stevens later. At least she had a tube of hydrocortisone, now, to help treat the lurid red patches on Gen’s skin.
“Plenty of fresh water, my foot,” she grumbled as she navigated through traffic. “As if I don’t give you a full, new bowl every morning and evening.Try changing her food if she’s not eating... It’s not like you’re on some kind of cheap, corn-based diet.”
It was odd, though. They hadn’t been by Dylan and Scott’s place more than a couple times since he’d started training camp, so empty calories from stolen-away dog treats weren’t filling her up. She must miss the boy, Abby concluded, and resolved to swing by Scott’s place on their way home.
Maybe Lauren would let her take Dylan to the park for a while. He and Gen could run and play together, and maybe the dog would find her old enthusiasm again. She hadn’t spent any time with children the last few weeks since being shaved. She must be lonely.
Abby pulled into Scott’s driveway, slid out of the driver’s seat, and opened the back door, waiting for Gen to jump out. After a moment, when no collar jingle came, she ducked her head to check on the pup.
Gen’s eyes were dull, staring across the car, and her tail gave only a few feeble thumps.
“Hey girl, you doing okay?”
Gen’s ears cocked forward, then flicked back again and she gingerly rose, stepping across the seats and jumping down to the cobbled driveway.
Perking up, she pranced to the front door and waited while Abby knocked. Flicking her ears as a flurry of footsteps on the other side announced Dylan’s arrival, when the door opened, she leapt up and draped her front paws over his shoulders, nuzzling her head beneath his chin.
Abby couldn’t help smiling at the sight. “Hey Dylan, we’re heading to the park. Want to come?”
“Why don’t we stay here, instead?”
Abby’s jaw dropped as Scott strode across the living area and into the front entrance, then swept her up in his arms and pulled her against him.
“Mmm,” he hummed against her ear. “I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you, too,” she replied, still surprised. “But what are you doing here?”
“Day off. I thought I’d run home before Dylan starts school next week.”
“Ooh, that must be hard. Him starting school right in the middle of training camp.”
“Not quite in the middle; we’ll be wrapping up in another few days and then it’ll be prepping for pre-season. At least I’ll be home.”
“Speaking of home,” Abby tucked herself under his arm as they headed toward the kitchen. “I checked. First home game is week three against Seattle. I figured I could come pick Dylan up early and then go over to the field. I’d hate to get stuck in traffic or miss anything.”
“It’s a one-o’clock game, so the tailgating should be pretty tame. You shouldn’t need too much extra time.”
“Still...”
Abby had arrived during dinner prep, so Scott put her to work. Elite athletes had to eat a lot of protein to keep from wasting away, but fruits and vegetables were equally important in maintaining both a balanced diet and a sufficient intake of all the trace vitamins and minerals their bodies burned.
During the off-season he hadn’t been quite as careful, but with practices now in full swing, she figured meals would become simpler, faster, and more calorically dense.
She wasn’t wrong.
Scott handed her a recipe for quinoa and goat cheese stuffed peppers with caramelized onions and chard on the side, then set her to work chopping herbs.
“That smells amazing,” she exclaimed as Scott lifted the lid on the rice cooker and fluffed the quinoa with several generous pinches of thyme.
“I’ll be eating chicken and potatoes soon enough. Doesn’t hurt to make things I enjoy while I have the time.”
Abby poked her head into the living area to check on Gen and found her rolling on the floor with Dylan while he ruffled her ears. Not allowed to lick, Abby couldn’t help giggling as the dog stuck her tongue in and out, wetting her nose, but keeping enough distance from the boy she didn’t get him.
Leaning against the kitchen doorjamb, Scott’s warm presence came up behind her, then one arm snaked around her waist and tugged her closer.
He’d grown. Not significantly so, but more solid, wider in the shoulders. His bicep, where it pressed into her upper arm, was thicker, banded with defined muscles. She sighed and leaned back against him.