Page 16 of Will Bark for Pizza (Bluebell Springs #1)

TWELVE

BECKETT

Headlights sliced through the darkness, illuminating the gravel drive. Husker perked from his spot beside my camping chair as the fire crackled in the metal pit I’d been poking at for the past hour, unable to sleep.

“I think your mom’s home,” I said to the dog.

I had another long day ahead of me tomorrow, considering I didn’t get to half the things on my list today.

But despite my best efforts, sleep eluded me.

I was still in mild shock. Red was Luke and Connor’s little sister.

Red was the girl who threw snakes right back at her brother without an ounce of fear.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, wondering how she felt about this recent revelation. Wondering why the hell I cared.

It shouldn’t be a big deal. If anything, it should be the reminder I needed to steer clear. Redhead or not, she was clearly off-limits now that I knew who she was.

And yet, somehow, that made her all the more enticing .

I added talk to Karl about the cabin ASAP to my mental to-do list. The damn thing was a mile long, but this particular item would need to move to the top before the redheaded curse struck and ruined yet another good thing.

The Jeep’s engine quieted, and Kira pushed open her door.

Husker tilted his head at that severe angle again, which made those damn ears seem taller somehow.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. He did that a lot over dinner, using those big doe eyes and quirky head tilt to sucker almost everyone out of some of their pizza. Including me.

Kira Mason hopped out of her Jeep, headed straight for us. The sliver of moonlight was not enough to illuminate her face, but the gentle flames of the fire were.

Even exhausted, she was beautiful.

And totally off-fucking-limits , I reminded myself.

“Hope he hasn’t been too much trouble,” Kira said as Husker ran up to her, tail wagging uncomfortably close to the firepit. Though it had a lid, flames licked up from the openings. Kira noticed immediately and repositioned him.

“We’ve just been chilling.”

We’d been outside for over an hour. Though Husker was sleeping at the foot of Connie’s bed when I slipped downstairs, he trailed after me when I headed toward the back door. I clipped on the leash that Kira left in the mudroom.

I’d never had a dog of my own, but I always wanted one.

“I’m surprised Opal didn’t steal him tonight.”

“She tried,” I said. “But one of Connor’s hens got out?— ”

“Bubbies!” Kira said, her tone both a scold and a laugh.

“He didn’t catch it,” I added. “But it was enough to make Connor more than a little sore at him.”

“Not surprised.” She looked up at me. “Guess everyone is asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Grandpa passed out in his recliner?”

“With reruns of M*A*S*H playing? Yep.”

We shared a smile, and dammit if my heartbeat didn’t skip.

There was something about this redhead that just messed with my internal workings.

I barely knew her, but now that the connection was made, I realized I knew her a lot better than I should.

Her brothers talked about her all the time while we served.

She was a part of their childhood stories, woven into their history.

“Have a seat,” I offered.

She wrapped her arms around her chest, revealing a hint of shape beneath the oversized sweatshirt that hung nearly to her knees. I couldn’t quite make out the words on the front of it, but it had something to do with being a writer and the warning that came with it.

“I really should get to bed.”

“Your bed’s not going anywhere.”

What was I doing?

She glanced down at Husker, then at a chair next to mine, and finally, she came closer and sat. Husker circled her chair and ended up in the gap between our seats.

“I’d offer you a beer, but I don’t drink.”

She ran her hand along the back of Husker’s neck. “I wouldn’t accept it if you did. ”

“I thought we were past the serial killer accusations,” I teased, poking a stick through one of the larger openings in the grate to move around the burning sticks and keep a healthy space between us.

Husker helped, but I didn’t know if that’d be enough to ward off the magnetic pull that seemed to exist between us.

“I don’t drink. Anymore.”

I wanted to ask why. Hell, I wanted to ask a whole lot more than that, but I sensed her hesitation. Instead, I offered up a piece of my story I rarely shared, hoping it would put her at ease.

“My dad’s an alcoholic,” I said. “It made him mean and unpredictable.”

“So you’ve never touched a drop?” she guessed.

“I wish I could say that.” I let out a heavy sigh and sat back in the chair, gazing up at the star-filled sky.

It wasn’t as though I’d never seen a night sky like this one, but until Colorado, I’m not sure I ever appreciated the peace it offered.

I had the overwhelming urge to share everything with Red, but the good sense not to.

“I haven’t touched a drop since my first deployment. Ten years ago.”

“Do you miss it?” she asked.

“No.”

“I don’t miss it, either. But it’s only been a year.

” She stole a side glance at me I pretended not to notice, as though waiting for me to admit I knew something about her.

I was curious, but offered up nothing. She went on.

“I don’t think I’ll ever miss it, either.

There’s something incredibly freeing about that, you know? ”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

Because I did know. My father was a prisoner of alcohol, among other things. I wondered many times what his life would have become if he’d been able to control his drinking. Been able to stop after just one beer like he said so many times. Maybe we could have been the happy family I always wanted.

But despite the disease I knew it was to him, he had a choice to give in or to fight it. He chose not to fight it.

“What about your sister?” Kira asked.

“She drinks socially. Or she did, before the twins.”

“How old are they?”

“Just turned four. Lexi and Liam.” I nearly pulled my phone from the pocket of my flannel jacket to show her the latest picture of them, but I caught myself before my fingers wrapped around it.

It was better if we kept things as impersonal as possible.

I didn’t know how long Kira would be in town.

I learned over dinner that she resided in Omaha, and surprised everyone with her unannounced visit.

I just had to survive the few days she was here without doing something reckless.

“Your mom?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” I said, firing her earlier accusation from the lake back at her. It came out flirtier than I intended, but that didn’t seem to stop me from flashing her a half smile.

She tucked her knees beneath the oversized sweatshirt, her painted toes dangling from the edge of the chair. I still couldn’t make out what the words said because she kept her arms wrapped around the front of it.

“It’s only fair,” she said.

“How’s that?”

“You know my entire family. ”

“I just met most of them a couple months ago.”

“I haven’t met any of yours.”

“You’re not missing much. I mean, Madeline and her family are great. But my parents . . .”

I let the sentence trail off as I stared into the dancing flames. A silence fell over our conversation as I reached down to stroke the back of Husker’s neck. A silence that I feared might give Red a reason to call it a night and leave me outside alone. I threw out another question.

“Where did you sleep last night?”

“What?”

“Last night. You weren’t here.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m not in a hurry.” The words seemed to spill out of their own accord, too quickly for me to decide whether or not I should actually speak them. “But if you’re tired?—”

“I am,” she said, freeing her legs from the inside of her sweatshirt and slipping her feet back into the rose-gold flip-flops at the foot of her chair. I could make out the beginning of the tattoo that snaked around her right calf. Some type of purple flower peeked out from the hem of her leggings.

“C’mon, Bubbies. We should get to bed,” she said to Husker, bending to reach for the leash. Her fingers brushed against mine, and we both froze at the electrifying contact. I knew she felt it too, or she wouldn’t be staring back at me.

My gaze dropped to her lips. I sucked in a breath when her tongue slipped out to wet them. Her fingertips rested atop my hand, alerting every nerve ending in my body. Oh, this woman was trouble all right. Trouble I wanted to get intimately acquainted with, consequences be damned.

A wet nose wedged itself under my arm hard enough to make it jerk away from the arm of my chair.

The moment shattered with the contact.

Husker stared at me, as though asking why I stopped petting him. And then he stood, backing his rear end against my legs with a shove.

Kira let out a soft laugh, standing and tucking her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie. I finally made out the embroidered words. Do not annoy the writer. She may put you in a book and kill you.

“He wants booty scratches.”

“Is that what this means?” I asked Husker, obliging.

“It’s only second to belly rubs.”

“And pizza?” I guessed.

Husker snapped his head at me, those giant eyes staring expectantly.

“You said it,” Kira said, holding up her hands to alleviate herself of any guilt.

“So you are a serial killer, but only in your books?” I guessed.

Kira slid me a sly smile, those blue eyes twinkling against the firelight.

“Trying to find out the hard way?”

“Do you write murder mysteries?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “But I have been known to kill off characters who had it coming.”

“The cookie,” I said, a sudden revelation dawning as Husker trotted back to her side.

“What? ”

“You were celebrating. It said, ‘ Congratulations on your 25th Book ’, didn’t it?”

She crouched down to scoop up the leash. When she stood, her devious gaze flickered to mine.

“Maybe.”

I knew I nailed it.

“Is that what you do?” I asked, my curiosity knowing no bounds.

“You already know I’m an author.”

“But, do you write books for a living?”

“Yes.” This time her reply was more stretched out and unsure. As though the answer required an asterisk for further explanation. “And before you ask, I will not tell you my pen name.”

“Pen name?”

She turned part way, facing toward the back door. But before she took a step, she said, “You didn’t think I wrote under my real name, did you?”

“If there’s one thing I’ve come to learn about you, Red, it’s to expect the unexpected.”

“Goodnight, Campbell ,” she said, turning away completely and leaving me with a wiggling finger wave.

Because I was a glutton for punishment, I watched her walk away, the sway of her hips barely visible beneath her blanket of a sweatshirt. It was enough to cause my blood to rush south.

The back door closed, and I dropped my head to the back of the chair, searching for a shooting star. Yeah, I was that desperate. Because how the hell was I supposed to sleep tonight, knowing Red was right across the hall?