7. Maggie
SEVEN
MAGGIE
The sight of Luke Mason shirtless and covered in tattoos should be illegal.
“Ellie, you traitor,” I said, pulling the sliding door closed and dropping to the floor right there in the kitchen. My pup crawled over my outstretched legs, and I hugged her tightly against my chest. It was literally my favorite thing about having adopted her. She gave the world’s best hugs.
“He’s the enemy, remember? He doesn’t even like you.”
Except, clearly he did. I caught him sneaking chunks of bacon to her, and nearly turned into a puddle right there in the doorway.
Had I not announced myself, I was two point three seconds from bursting in, crawling into his lap, digging my fingers into that beard, and kissing him until I was breathless—or until he arrested me for trespassing.
Where did that impulse come from? Oh, right. I was horny.
Despite having lived with my fiancé—ex-fiancé—for the past three months, we never actually got to be intimate with one another once I moved in because Monster-in-Law arrived on the same day to help with wedding plans.
“Temporary my ass,” I grumbled.
It was no wonder I was hot for the guy next door, even if I wanted so badly to dislike him. I hadn’t been with a man in nearly eight months, since Jason and I met up in Hawaii. The trip where he proposed.
Maybe grumpy and covered in tattoos was my new type.
Or maybe it was my rebellious side emerging after upending my comfortable life only to find out I would always come second to Jason’s mother.
Luanne made a huge fuss over my one tattoo.
I bet she’d have a small heart attack if she saw me near a man covered in them.
Which, of course, only made the temptation to be completely reckless stronger.
“I really need to get a grip,” I mumbled against Ellie’s fur. “Under no circumstances can you let me do something stupid like sleep with him. Mkay, Ellie Belly?”
Not that he even liked me anyway. The man barely tolerated me.
Damn him for being sweet to Ellie. There was clearly a teddy bear trapped inside Officer McGrumpy—somewhere deep, deep beneath the layers of defined muscle and ink—and it was scrambling my brain.
Or maybe I was just hungry.
Yeah, that had to be it. I hadn’t eaten since I passed out on the guest bed sometime late yesterday afternoon. So much for that quick nap.
I woke up briefly in the middle of the night, but after letting Ellie out and changing into pajamas, I dropped like a lead weight into the main bed.
Hours later, I woke to the incessant cawing of crows and a chilly morning breeze, only to discover my dog had slipped out the back door I clearly forgot to close in my groggy state, and invited herself into Luke’s kitchen.
And now the aroma of freshly cooked bacon had me ravenous.
“I’m just hungry,” I declared, as though saying it aloud made it true.
Ellie lifted her head from my shoulder, giving me a look that clearly called bullshit.
“You could’ve snuck me a piece of bacon,” I said, scrubbing my hands through her thick fur in an enthusiastic full-body rub before I stood.
After a shower, I clipped Ellie’s leash to her collar—much to her dismay—and headed into town in search of sustenance. I followed Walter’s path from yesterday, and within three short blocks, downtown Bluebell Springs emerged like the opening shot to a fall-themed Hallmark movie.
“Violet has to see this,” I said, pulling my phone from my crossbody bag and navigating to the video messaging app that was our main form of communication.
“Hey! Proof of life,” I said into my phone’s camera as the app actively recorded my face.
A backdrop of rich autumn colors and gold-dusted mountains filled in behind me, showcasing a gently overcast sky.
Violet might consider this type of weather gloomy despite the sun peeking through the clouds, but to me, it was absolute heaven.
“We made it to Bluebell Springs late yesterday afternoon. Which I guess Mom already told you.”
I flipped the camera around to capture Ellie walking in front of me. Despite her irritation with being leashed, her tail was up, swishing happily, and her nose was lifted, taking in all the fresh mountain air and new scents.
The aroma of bacon wafted to me from some unknown place nearby, and my stomach growled so furiously I suspected the microphone picked it up.
A flash of a shirtless Luke Mason sitting at a small kitchen table, hair tousled, and a smile aimed at my dog as he offered her a nibble of his breakfast caused a lump in my throat, forcing me to clear it. I would not be telling my sister about that.
“I wonder if she recognizes Bluebell Springs,” I said of Ellie, replacing thoughts of ripped muscle with the distinct memory of Officer McGrumpy accusing me of leaving a gate open—one I’d never even seen, much less tampered with until I discovered Ellie was missing. That cooled me off a bit.
“And no, I haven’t reached out to Paws of Purpose yet. I will. Soon.”
Violet asked as much last night on the second video message she recorded of the boys at the hotel swimming pool.
I wanted a couple of days to get settled before I made that visit.
To ensure I was clearheaded and wouldn’t attempt to adopt a brother or sister for Ellie.
I was seventy-five percent certain I wouldn’t make any reckless decisions, but the tattered wedding dress stuffed in the guest room closet said otherwise.
My sister also asked, on a scale of wallowing in self-pity to feeling like the most badass version of myself, how I was doing. It was what we called the no-bullshit sister scale. We had a rule that if one of us asked, the other had to answer. Honestly.
The problem was I didn’t know how I felt. For someone who literally called off her wedding two weeks before she was supposed to go from fiancée to wife, I should be doing worse.
And yet, the most dominant feeling was . . . relief.
It didn’t make sense, but I wasn’t mad about it. I didn’t want to be a mess. I wanted to move on and put it all behind me.
“This is the cutest town,” I continued, keeping the camera pointed in front of me so Violet wouldn’t ask questions about the screwed-up expression on my face.
Businesses lined either side of the street, many of them featuring log exteriors.
Open doors welcomed people in, and bright flowers hung in pots from the permanent awning.
Pumpkins circled barrels filled with mums, and the sidewalk was one continuous string of wood planks, the boardwalk giving off one big covered-porch vibe.
Large cedar-stained boxes were stationed in the middle of the street, colorful arrays of flowers stretching toward the stop signs built into them.
“Add twinkling white lights, and I’d wager I was in a Hallmark movie,” I added, the earlier gloominess lifting almost instantly as I took in the charming details. “Look! There’s Frosted Peaks Bakery, Grizzly Grocer—seriously, could you get any more on theme for a small mountain town?”
My head was on a swivel, taking it all in.
“And that sign! Adorable.” I stopped to zoom in on a sign across the street for Pizza Patty’s. It was purple and whimsical, featuring a dog and a patio umbrella. “We’re definitely eating there soon. Oh, look!” I swiveled my camera toward the two-story building in front of me. “A bookstore!”
The thought of sitting and reading a book cover to cover made me want to cry. My life had been nonstop chaos since Jason proposed. If all I accomplished these next few weeks was reading a few books before I had to return to reality, I’d consider the trip a success.
The door to Brenda’s Book Nook was propped open, and I nearly walked in until my gaze snagged on a sign for The Sunrise Skillet on the opposite corner of the intersection. Ah, there was the source of that bacon aroma. Ellie’s eager nose caught it too.
“We’re going to grab some breakfast,” I told Violet, returning the camera to my face. “Safe travels today. Tell my nephews I miss them like crazy and can’t wait to see them. Oh, I don’t know where on the scale it falls, but I’m . . . pleasantly numb. Okay, love you, bye!”
I tucked the phone into my crossbody bag and waited at the corner for an oncoming red Jeep.
The female driver stopped next to a large flower box, waiting for me to pass.
A blond shepherd dog with tall, pointed ears stuck its head out the back window, locking eyes on Ellie.
She offered the pup a couple of enthusiastic tail wags as we crossed to the other side, but otherwise, paid it no mind.
The Sunrise Skillet was apparently a popular place, as the only seats available were at the front counter. With a sign in the window promising the establishment was dog friendly for well-behaved pups, I headed for an open stool.
Ellie kept close to my side as we navigated the sea of people. With any luck, there’d be a patio seat waiting once we got our food to-go.
The interior was rustic and charming. Exactly the kind of place I’d expect to find in a small mountain town with its distressed wood, corrugated galvanized steel accents, and framed pictures of moose, bears, and elk.
Farmhouse-style tables lined the middle, smaller two-seater tables dotted the edges near the windows, and a ring of stools circled the front diner-style counter.
I slipped onto one to study the menu, and Ellie tucked herself out of the way.
“She’s adorable,” a woman about my age said to me when I decided on the Denver skillet—when in Rome—and closed the menu. Her chestnut-brown hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail at the nape of her neck, and she tugged it over the front of one shoulder as she asked, “What’s her name?”
“Ellie.”
“Ellie.” The woman seemed to consider that a moment, silently nodding as she fidgeted with her ponytail. “I like that.”
“Her government name is Eleanor.”
The woman studied my dog. Ellie gave her one of those cute stares with a slight head tilt, but otherwise, remained pressed against my legs. “It suits her.”