Chapter 37 Just Like a Dog
JUST LIKE A DOG
CORBIN
Fifteen minutes later, I’m yawning, and my limbs feel too heavy to move. “I should go. Sarah’s dropping Charlotte off in the morning. I have her this weekend,” I say, as I try to muster the energy to drag my ass out of bed.
“What time?” Mabel asks, sounding sleepy too. Well, I did wake her in the middle of the night.
“Nine.”
She shudders. “Fuck mornings.”
I nudge her. “Right?”
“Exactly,” she says, curling up by my side and pressing a kiss to my shoulder. It’s soft and gentle, and I shudder from the feel of her lips on my skin. “Too bad.”
Wait…hold on. Does that mean she wants me to stay? A sleepover has never been part of this thing. I hold my damn breath to see if she’ll say more.
My wish comes true when she kisses my neck and murmurs, “I have to be up at seven-thirty. One of us has to open the bakery.”
“Hey now. I’ll definitely help out in the afternoon. “
“I know. I’m just saying I could wake you up at eight-thirty.”
And yes, dreams do come true. “Promise?” I say, as another yawn wallops me.
She kisses my jaw this time, and it sends a shiver through me as she whispers, “Promise.”
I reach for her hand and press a kiss to the top of it. “Good. But we’re going to need to push two beds together. We’re too big to sleep in a twin.”
“You’re right.”
The firehouse only had twin-size beds, but a few minutes later, we’ve pushed two together, and we’re flopping back down.
It’s not perfect. I have only one set of sheets here—but we put a fitted sheet on one twin, and a flat on the other.
There’s a thin space, naturally, between the two mattresses.
But it’ll do for now especially since the blanket I brought the other week is pretty big.
She pats the mattress. “It’s another one of your gifts. A new bed.”
“You like gifts, Mabel?”
“Yours,” she says, full of affection that settles deep into my bones. She settles her head against the pillow and turns her face away from me, but she wiggles her body close and sighs. “Mmm. You can wake me up anytime in the middle of the night.”
I kiss the back of her neck. “Feel free to wake me up with your mouth at eight-thirty,” I say, and even though I’m sinking toward that cleft in the bed, I drift off to sleep.
In the morning, Mabel is better than a clock, her warm mouth trailing kisses down my neck, chest, and stomach as I stir, rising in all the ways.
Ignoring the kink in my back, I inch toward the side of the bed, making myself more comfortable, then I push her down. She takes me in her mouth and gives me the most fantastic wake-up call ever.
When I come down from my high, she’s staring at me like a satisfied cat, licking her lips. “Fuuuuuck mornings,” she says.
I grab the back of her head and haul her in for a kiss. I can’t resist her, so naturally I do the gentlemanly thing and offer to give her an early morning O.
She shakes her head. “One of us needs to be baking.”
“Fair enough,” I say. “But I owe you.”
“And I will gladly let you cash that in sometime very soon.”
After I get dressed quickly and brush my teeth, I say, “Charlotte wants to come by later. Help out. You cool with that?”
She scoff-laughs. “Cool with it? I insist. No one pokes fun at you better than she does. And I can’t wait.”
Funny, neither can I.
“I wanted to let you know the plan for the next week or so,” Charlotte says, as we walk along Main Street, passing Reprise, where a window display of sweaters with animal illustrations on them draws my daughter’s attention for a couple seconds.
And mine too, since Mabel would like those.
But I turn my focus back to my daughter as she resumes her pace and her calendar review.
“This weekend is the fox toss. Monday, you have a bakery event. Then we’re picking up Mischief and Mayhem on Tuesday.
You have a game on Wednesday night. So I can take care of them myself. ”
I arch a brow. “Are you sure?”
She gives me a look like she’s offended I’d even ask.
“Dad, I’m twelve. I can stay home alone.
And if there are any problems, I can call…
” She trails off and I expect her to say she’d call her mom, but Charlotte smiles impishly.
“Mabel. She connected us with Mrs. Henderson. She’d be the one to help. ”
I can’t argue with the logic there, but still, I need to poke fun at her too. “Are you saying you’d rather take care of the foster dogs than come to my hockey game?”
She pats my arm. “You’re cute, Dad. And hockey’s fine, but taking care of foster dogs will help me become a veterinarian. Did you know there’s a shortage of vets?”
“I didn’t know that,” I say. “Why?”
“It costs a lot to get an education to become one, and it’s a high-stress job. But that’s why I’m learning everything I can about it now,” she says. “So I’m ready when it’s time.”
I ruffle her hair. “Proud of you, kid.”
I go quiet though. My daughter doesn’t have to worry about the cost of education but others do.
I mull on that disparity, and the high cost that could be a deterrent for others, until Charlotte breaks my thoughts as she says, “And then we leave for New York. You have a hockey game there, and that’s where we’ll spend Christmas. ”
Charlotte and I always have fun during the holidays, especially in New York since my cousins and my stepdad, Ray, who Charlotte adores, live there. So do Charlotte’s cousins on Sarah’s side.
But what will Mabel be doing? Will she miss me when I’m gone?
I know I’ll miss her.
But since she likes gifts, I stop Charlotte with a hand on her arm. “Hey, can you help me pick a sweater?”
“Of course.”
My kid spins around and marches right back to the store as if an invisible thread is leading her there. She stops at the window display that includes a llama sweater.
“I presume this is for Mabel,” she says.
The straightforwardness of the statement throws me off for a second, but only a second. “Yes. How did you—”
But I don’t finish the question. It’s clear how she knows. I’m obvious.
“I saw the llama sweater too, and I filed it away as a gift for her,” she says, tapping her temple. “But you should give it to her.”
“You were going to give it to her?”
“Of course,” she says. “She’s a big part of our life.”
I freeze. Is Charlotte getting attached to Mabel? If I pursue something with Mabel eventually and it doesn’t work out, will Charlotte get hurt? I hadn’t thought about that issue, but I really should. It’s a whole new what if.
Except, fuck that.
It’s ten steps down the road, and I’ve raised my daughter to handle life when shit goes wrong. Charlotte’s a strong person. I’m not going to let my kid be an issue.
Besides, if I want Mabel to want more than an arrangement, I need to show her why I’m worth breaking the rules for.
Operation Win My Business Partner’s Heart begins today.
“Let’s give it to her together,” I say.
“Works for me.”
We go inside and find more sweaters with animal illustrations on them. “Which color do you think will look best on her?”
Charlotte picks one, then holds it up. “It’s a very pretty sky blue that’ll look great with her big brown eyes.”
I smother a smile. But whether it’s from the description of Mabel’s eyes, or the fact my daughter’s wanting to give her a gift, I don’t know.
Either way, I like it.
When we head into Afternoon Delight, there’s a beautiful sight. A long line at the counter. Aisha’s here, helping out and taking orders, and damn, this is good to see. A busy bakery, with customers scooping up Christmas sweets, dog cookies, and other treats. I hate to say it, but Thanks, Ronnie.
“Want some help?” I ask as I head behind the counter, the gift in hand.
“Yes, grab the boxes of iced snowwomen in the kitchen, the trees, and the Christmas unicorn cookies,” Mabel says, all business as she points like a gate agent directing traffic at the airport.
“Christmas unicorns? I want one,” Charlotte says as she grabs her apron from a hook.
“She likes unicorns,” I add as I head into the kitchen and set down the sweater for later.
“Dad, everyone likes unicorns,” Charlotte calls out.
“I like unicorns,” Aisha chimes in as I return with the boxes of cookies and my apron.
Mabel gives a nod as she rings up some smash cakes, then points to the counter and the customer who ordered the cookies. I hand over the goods.
“Everyone likes unicorns,” Mabel says to the line of customers. “Am I right?”
And the answer is a resounding yes.
The day is long, longer than a day with travel and practice and a game it seems. After we close, Aisha helps clean, then she heads out, leaving the three of us to finish.
When we’re done, Charlotte clears her throat, her gaze swinging pointedly to the kitchen. “Dad, is there something you wanted to give Mabel? From us?”
I stare right back at her. “Charlotte, is there something you wanted to give Mabel?”
She grins a little evilly. “Why, yes.”
She scurries to the kitchen and grabs the gift box, then marches it right back to Mabel. “My dad and I saw this and thought it would be perfect for you. It’s from both of us.”
“You two are so sweet,” Mabel says.
We settle down at a table in the front of the store, the holiday lights still twinkling outside the shop.
Mabel unwraps the paper with anticipation in those big brown eyes, then takes out the sweater, her expression softening.
“This is perfect. I love it so much,” she says, then gives my daughter a hug.
Charlotte hugs her back, and that’s a real good sight. So good my chest tightens with emotions. Dangerous things. But things I’m not as scared of as I was a couple months ago.
When Mabel lets go, Charlotte gets straight to business. “The fosters are coming over on Tuesday. Mischief and Mayhem. Do you want to help with them?”
“Obviously,” Mabel says.
Like it’s that easy, and maybe some things just are.
What’s not easy?