Page 139 of Should the Sky Fall

“Nice.” He licks his lips, his head lolling back against the sofa. “You’ll let me read it, right?”

“You’ll be the first,” Cal promises.

Dawson gives him a wide smile, all teeth and dimples, and starts to lean in.

Cal’s heart rate picks up, and he does the same, inching his face closer to Dawson.

And then Donut lets out a loud fart.

They both freeze, staring at each other.

Dawson’s eyes narrow. “Did you feed him something?”

Crap.“No?”

“Cal.”

“A couple pieces of mozzarella,” he admits with shame. “But they were tiny!”

Dawson throws up his arms. “Cal! We talked about this!”

“I know! But he likes me more when I secretly give him treats.”

Dawson isn’t impressed, especially when the smell reaches their noses. “Buying affection, huh? I’m disappointed.”

“But it’s working. Look!” He points at Donut who’s still resting his head on Cal’s thigh, like he didn’t just release a biological weapon.

Dawson groans. “I can’t even be mad at you, dammit.”

Cal tries and fails to smother a victorious smile. “I’m sorry?”

“No, you’re not.”

It almost seems Dawson has forgiven him, but Donut farts again, even louder than before.

Dawson just looks at Cal, his expression stony.

“I’ll take him for a walk,” Cal says, resigned.

“You do that.”

Cal’s in the middle of a plot-twist in the latest book he’s picked up, which is why he nearly jumps out of his skin, and off the sofa, when the intercom rings. Donut, who’s been lounging next to him, runs to the door, barking his head off.

Did Dawson forget his keys?

Setting his e-reader aside with a mournful sigh, Cal gets up to answer the door. He must be slow because the person rings again before he gets there. Donut’s barking gets louder, and Cal shushes him. “Sit. Good boy.” He presses the intercom button. “Hello?”

“Dawson, you ass,” an angry, high-pitched voice that’s decidedly not Dawson’s answers him. “Pick up your damn phone.”

Cal frowns. He doesn’t like this lady, who’s addressing his husband as an ass. “I’m sorry. Dawson’s not here.”

A long stretch of silence follows, followed by a stern, “Let me in. Now.”

Irritation bubbles in Cal’s gut. His previously calm voice takes on a rough edge. “I don’t know who you are. And you called Dawson an ass. That’s not nice.”

“Are you fucking—” A sharp inhale, and then, “I’m his sister.”

Cal deflates, irritation replaced by confusion. “Olivia?”