Page 32 of Pugs & Kisses

T he drive from the high school to the turnoff that would take them to his parents’ home was about eight minutes, and in that time Bryson had thought up at least a dozen reasons to make a U-turn and head back to New Orleans.

His heart rate rose as they drove along the gravel driveway, an agitated prickle moving across his skin when the massive oak tree he used to climb as a kid came into view.

Even in the winter, when its branches were still bare, the trunk was positioned in such a way that it hid the house from view.

But the moment they rounded the curve, there would be no more hiding.

You can still turn around.

An unsettling sensation planted itself in the pit of his stomach.

Hadn’t he decided years ago that he would no longer allow anyone—including himself—to make him feel ashamed of where he’d come from?

His parents had worked hard for that house.

It may not be a mansion in a gated community with a golf course and private security, but it had kept him safe and secure throughout his childhood.

It continued to provide that same safety and security for his parents.

He continued driving.

They made the curve around the tree, and the house came into view. Bryson drove into the spot where his dad usually parked his truck, next to the piece of painted driftwood his mother had repurposed to serve as a border for one of her many flowerbeds.

“This is so charming,” Evie said.

He replayed her words, searching for a hint of deceit or feigned sincerity, but there was none.

Had he really expected Evie to belittle his home? She’d proven again and again that she wasn’t that type of person, yet for a moment, he’d prepared himself for derision.

He tried to see the house through the eyes of someone who had grown up in a mansion.

The two-bedroom gray clapboard structure with white shutters and a galvanized steel roof was tiny but quaint, with a porch that spanned the front of the house.

Bryson had paid for the porch to be reinforced with new pillars, but his dad refused to let them put a railing because then he wouldn’t be able to sit on the edge and let his legs dangle off the side, one of his favorite pastimes.

Evie got out of the car and headed straight for his mother’s flower garden.

“This garden is sublime,” she said. The roses had been pruned and the annuals wouldn’t bloom for another few months, but the soft pink witch hazel and deeper pink camellia flowers were showing out. “And how adorable is this!”

She pointed to the old tire that was used as a planter. Painted on it were several scenes of a dog frolicking through the marsh.

“That’s Pepper at various ages throughout his life,” Bryson said. “My mom painted it years ago.”

Evie clasped both hands to her chest. “I loved your Pepper story. Was that really the catalyst for you wanting to become a vet?”

“Yep,” Bryson said.

“I had a similar incident with one of the strays I rescued as a kid—Humphrey. Unfortunately, the outcome wasn’t a good one.”

“I’m sorry,” Bryson said.

She lifted her shoulders. “I found Sparks two weeks later and kept her until I left for LSU. That’s the thing about dogs—you’ll likely outlive them, so you take the time you have to spoil them rotten. And when you’ve done all you can, you find another one to spoil.”

“It’s what I tell owners when surgeries aren’t successful,” he said. He plucked a petal from one of the camellias and brought it to her nose. “This scent reminds me of my childhood. My mom has been growing camellias since before I was born.”

“It’s lovely. This entire garden is like a dream.”

He slipped his keys from his pocket and gestured toward the house. “Let’s go inside? If we’re lucky, she has some satsuma syrup.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Because you’re city folk,” Bryson said.

“Stop it,” Evie said.

“I’m only joking,” he said as he gestured for her to climb the porch steps ahead of him. “There’s a bunch of citrus trees in the backyard. My mom makes this syrup from the satsumas that she mixes with iced tea or lemonade. She would ship it to me in North Carolina.”

“Well, now I’m curious.”

“Cross your fingers that my brothers haven’t cleaned out her stash,” he said as he unlocked the door.

“It’s funny that you just moved back home and already have a key to your parents’ house,” she said.

Bryson stopped with his hand on the door. “What do you mean? I’ve had this key for years.”

“I haven’t had a key to my parents’ house since my freshman year of college. Even now they give me a temporary key code whenever I come over.”

“Damn. That’s cold,” Bryson said.

“It’s just how they are.”

And to think he envied rich kids.

They entered the house and, as usual, it was spotless, yet cozy.

“Okay, this is so far beyond adorable,” Evie said. “I can’t imagine growing up here.”

No shit. He couldn’t imagine her growing up here either. But he hadn’t heard any malice in her words. She appeared to be genuinely charmed.

Bryson took in the small living room. The baby blankets his mom crocheted for each of her sons were now draped over the backs of the sofa and matching recliners in the living room. The curtains she’d sewn hung over the windows.

“It took leaving for me to appreciate it,” Bryson said.

He directed Evie to the house’s lone bathroom, and once she was done, she demanded to see his bedroom.

“My mom changed it to a craft room a long time ago,” he said as they stood in the doorway. “I can’t complain. At least I had the bedroom to myself. My two older brothers had to share their entire childhood.”

“And they still get along? Me and my brother could never,” Evie said.

There wasn’t much more to the house other than his parents’ room, which he never entered without their express permission—he guessed that was one thing his and Evie’s parents had in common—and the covered back porch that had long ago been turned into a bragging room by his parents.

His and his brothers’ diplomas and degrees, along with every academic and athletic plaque and trophy any of them had ever earned, were on display.

Bryson pointed to the wall. “The degrees on the wall in my office are replicas. My mom insisted on keeping the originals here.”

“It’s obvious how proud she is of her boys,” Evie said. “It’s precious.” She looked up at him. “I hope you know how lucky you are.”

His gaze moved over her entire face. “It’s becoming clearer every day.”

The faint blush that rushed to her cheeks was both adorable and sexy. It reminded him of those times that long ago summer, and the myriad things he would say and do to bring about this same blush.

“I really want to kiss you right now, Ev,” Bryson whispered.

Her eyes shimmered with amusement and a touch of heat. “What’s stopping you?”

Bryson lowered his head and skimmed his lips over hers, brushing back and forth in an easy, unhurried dance that had his skin tingling and his mind quickly going to more indecent places.

He brought his hand up and cupped the back of her head, holding her steady as he added more pressure to the kiss, parting her lips and slipping his tongue inside.

She tasted like everything that was good in the world. The cinnamon from the candy she’d sucked on as they drove in from the school, and that flavor that was uniquely her.

Bryson brought his other hand to her lower back and pressed her body against his.

Something buzzed against his groin.

Bryson jumped back. “Shit, what was that?”

Evie gazed up at him, her half-lidded eyes awash with arousal. The buzz sounded again.

“Text message,” Evie said, pulling her phone from her pocket. Her breaths came out in shallow pants, and her hands shook as she swiped her fingers across the screen.

She read through the message, then stuffed the phone back in her pocket and rolled her eyes.

“This canine carnival is getting out of hand. We’ve both been shut out of the planning process. Ashanti and her twin sisters have taken over.”

Bryson cleared the lust from his throat. Assuaging the ache that kiss had left him with would take more time.

“Does she still think she can pull this off by next Saturday?” he asked.

“Oh, she will pull it off. I have no doubt about it. I’m going over there tomorrow to ‘talk strategy,’” she said, making air quotes. “But something tells me Ashanti already has everything planned down to the minute.”

“Do you have plans for the rest of this afternoon?” Bryson asked.

She glanced up at him. “No,” she said. “We just have to be back by six to pick up the dogs from the daycare. Well, Ashanti probably won’t mind if I’m late, but you’re going to get charged for Bella.”

“It would be worth it, but I think I can have us back by six.” He hooked his thumb toward the front door. “I spotted something outside that I think you should experience before you leave the bayou.”

A half hour later, they were standing along the banks of the narrow tributary that ran along the edge of his parents’ property. Evie held one of the long fishing poles his dad had fashioned out of sugar cane. She looked so out of place it was hard not to laugh.

“You do realize the fish won’t bite you, right?” Bryson said. “The goal is to get them to bite the earthworm I put on the hook.”

“Don’t remind me about the earthworm,” she said, looking as if she was ready to lose the grilled cheese sandwich he’d cooked for her just before they made their way over here.

“City folk.” Bryson shook his head, not bothering to hide his smile.

She moved her hand even farther down the pole, until it arched so much it looked on the verge of slipping out of her hand.

“Here,” Bryson said. “This is how you hold it.”

He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Gripping the pole with his left hand, he took her right hand in his and wrapped her fingers a third of the way up the pole.

“You want there to be some tension,” he said in a low voice that had nothing to do with not scaring away the fish.