by Mara Wells
Danielle had stayed on the other side of the yard, placing eggs with a focused determination that got the job done quickly. She’d called her goodbyes from the sidewalk, and Eliza had yelled, “See you tomorrow?”
“I’ve got the Easter Bonnet Parade in the afternoon, but I’ll swing by early!” Danielle’s brake lights were halfway down the street before Knox could ask her to pin down a more specific timetable.
Eliza had propped a hand on her hip. “That one’s always been touchy, but don’t worry about her. She’s sensitive, but she’s tough. She’s had to be. See you tomorrow?”
Knox had agreed, his eyes still on the brake lights pulling farther and farther away from him. He thought he recognized Danielle’s behavior, and he didn’t like where his thoughts took him. Danielle had a secret, a big one. A painful one. One that explained why she’d never gone to college. And as long as she was intent on keeping it, she’d keep running away from him. No wonder she loved greyhounds. Their speed was probably her inspiration.
Eliza told him to come back at an ungodly hour, but it was fine with Knox. He was usually up then anyway. He set a timer on his phone, just in case, and headed for his truck. He followed the path Danielle’s brake lights had taken but turned left where she’d turned right. Driving over the Julia Tuttle Causeway into Miami, he felt the tautness of invisible strings pulling him back toward the Beach. He’d floored the accelerator toward his lonely apartment. Tomorrow, he’d vowed, he’d fill out the online application to adopt Sarge. He needed one uncomplicated relationship in his life.
Now, standing in full sunlight, not a cloud in the sky and the temperature already over eighty degrees, Knox found himself getting angry that Danielle hadn’t yet arrived. The sun had been up for over two hours. She’d roped him into helping Eliza; she’d agreed to be here. Several families had already come and gone. Where was she?
“A red one!” Oliver held up the egg in triumph.
“You don’t want that one.” Knox held out his hand. “Let’s leave that for other kids.”
“No!” Oliver hugged it to his chest. “Red is my favorite color!”
“Trust me, buddy. It is not filled with your favorite candy.” Knox knew a lot of ways to disarm an enemy but that seemed extreme for dealing with a stubborn five-year-old. He settled for keeping his hand held out.
Oliver shook his head. “I’ll love it, whatever it is, because it’s red.”
“You’re not going to win.” Carrie’s lowered voice caught Knox’s attention. “Our best bet is to hope he gets distracted by another red egg.”
“All the red eggs are the same. No dairy, no sugar, no gluten. It’s really not the candy experience he’s looking for.”
“I’m going to find all the red eggs!” Oliver clutched the red egg to his chest, a determined look on his sharp features.
“Go ahead!” Carrie waved him on and tipped her head up toward Knox. “What’s in them, then?”
“Near as I could tell? Sticks?” One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Or maybe they were more like twigs?”
“Okay, okay. New plan.” Carrie unhooked her arm from his and trotted after Oliver who had decided to crawl on hands and knees and sniff out the red eggs like a dog. Beckham thought this was a great idea, bounding around Oliver with unrestrained glee.
“You’re good with him, your nephew.” Danielle’s voice surprised Knox into stumbling backward a step.
“When did you get here?” He regained his balance, reluctantly grateful for his time on the torture device that improved his stability. He crossed his arms over his chest.
Danielle’s eyes traced his tattoo. He felt her gaze like a caress on his skin. He swallowed down the instinct to crowd her, to back her up against the tree only a few feet behind her and kiss her like he’d been wanting to since, well, the first time he’d seen her in high school. It had been at the end of their sophomore year, and he’d had to enter the science fair as a last-ditch attempt to get extra credit for his bio class.
Danielle’s project had been on dog behavior, specifically the ways in which they use barks to communicate. She’d re-created a set of tests she’d read about in an article using volunteers from her dad’s veterinary clinic. She didn’t just have a board, like his stupid presentation on the impact of music on mood—a poorly thought-out experiment he’d conducted the night before with exactly one test subject: himself—she also had a video playing clips from her research process. A fluffy poof of a dog stood on her table, a Pomeranian she’d somehow gotten permission from both the owner and the school to use as a visual aid.
Knox had stood to the side as she’d explained her experiment to the judging panel who consisted of his bio teacher, the principal, and a science teacher from the middle school. The Pomeranian had barked on command, and the judges had watched the entire video. Danielle didn’t win the science fair—an injustice, he’d thought at the time. How could they not have been wowed by her enthusiasm and fierce determination? He certainly had been. In fact, he’d found himself thinking about her off and on all that summer, especially whenever he saw a dog.
Danielle had been awarded a runner-up, and he’d gotten his extra credit. But the real prize for him had been learning Danielle’s name. School had ended a few days later, but he’d made it his business to find her when the new school year started that August. She’d agreed to go to homecoming with him, when he’d finally worked up the nerve to ask her. And she’d kissed him that day, too, like she never wanted to stop.
He still didn’t want to stop. Even with a crowd of toddlers and kids romping around them, shouting out every time they found an egg, he wanted to kiss her. And now he’d been staring at her, at her lips, for too long. What had they been talking about again?
“An emergency came up at the clinic. My dad needed me. He tries to give the staff holidays off.” Danielle had clearly been explaining for a while. Her hands were rolling in that way she had when she got going, explaining some kind of complicated surgery her dad had performed.
“Of course you had to help him.” Knox said when she ran out of steam. What else could he say? That he’d been disappointed she wasn’t here? That he’d thought about her science experiment, years later, when he’d learned to discern the subtle differences in the varying barks of his commanding officers? “You missed some pretty happy little kids. They all seem so excited. I can see why Eliza keeps up the tradition every year.”
As if on cue, a kid with a big rubber duck on his little T-shirt plopped onto the ground between Knox and Danielle, bawling his lungs out. The hoodie pulled up over his head sported a duck bill that jutted out from his forehead, and he cried so hard the bill vibrated.
“So excited.” Danielle raised an eyebrow at him.
“Hey there.” Knox squatted, angling his braced leg out of the way, then gave up the balancing game and sat on his butt, too. “What’s wrong?”
“No eggs! No eggs for me!” Snot dripped from the kid’s nose, and he wiped it on the sleeve of his hoodie.
Knox took a moment to see if any parents were coming to the rescue, but no one seemed to notice the ducky meltdown. Many of the adults were helping themselves to the make-your-own mimosa station on the front patio, and a few older kids played with the Magic Eight Ball in the corner. Eliza, dressed in a fluffy white bunny suit that could double for the abominable snowman, sat in a giant wicker chair, a line of about three kids in front of her. While the children took pictures with the Easter Bunny, parents opened the eggs, dumped the candy into their baskets, and placed the empty plastic eggs in a giant receptacle by the front door. It surprised Knox what an efficient system it was, and he figured the crying kid’s mom or dad would realize soon enough that their darling child needed them. In the meantime, Knox didn’t want to leave the kid in meltdown mode while he searched out a responsible adult to handle the situation.
His lookout did reveal one thing, though.
There was an egg right behind Danielle’s heel. A yellow one. If she stepped backward, she’d crack it wide open.
“No eggs, huh? That’s terrible.” Knox sat with the kid. “You came for eggs. You should get some eggs. If only we knew where to look.”
The kid’s lower lip trembled. “I looked everywhere.”
“Did you look, say, over there?” Knox pointed to the egg behind Danielle. She turned, saw it, and stepped aside so the kid had a clearer view.
“I did!” The kid sniffled again. “No eggs.”
“Are you sure?” Knox pointed again. It was yellow, for God’s sake.
The kid squinted. “No eggs! No eggs for me!”
Okay then. New plan.
Before he could think of one, Oliver crawled up, still in dog mode, and scooped up the egg. “Another one!” he crowed and held it up for Carrie to put in his basket.
“At least it’s not red.” Carrie added it to a stash of about fifteen others. “Hey, Danielle.”
“Hey.” Danielle dutifully admired Oliver’s finds. “Oliver’s killing it, huh?”
Before Carrie could reply, the duck-clad kid wailed, “No eggs! He took my egg!” and pointed at Oliver.
Oliver was stunned by the accusation. “I found it!” Beckham came to attention, standing between the two boys. “That makes it mine.”
“My egg!” The kid was a few years younger than Oliver. After his claim of ownership, he blubbered until more snot strung out of his nose. He wiped it on his already wet sleeve. Oliver studied him for a moment.
“Mom?” Oliver stood up and reached for his basket. “I think I made a mistake. This one belongs to him.” Oliver took out his most recent find. “Here.” He placed it in the boy’s hand. “This one is yours.”
“Mine?” The kid blinked tear-spiked eyelashes at Oliver. A smile trembled on his lips.
“This one, too.” Oliver took another egg out of his basket, then another. “And this one.”
The kid let out a screech loud enough that all the adults on the porch looked their way.
“Lincoln!” A young mother with an infant on her hip rushed up to them. “Are you okay?”
“Look at my eggs!” He held them up like jewels for his mother to inspect.
“How clever you are.” She beamed at him and tucked the eggs into a small, green basket. “You ready to go home?”
“Wait!” Oliver called as they walked away. He reached into his basket and pulled out the red egg. “This one is for his brother. Or sister.” He held it up to the baby, but the baby was sound asleep.
The woman smiled and nudged the basket Oliver’s way. Oliver dropped the egg in, then spun and ran to his mom.
Carrie’s eyes were filled with tears. “That was very generous, Oli. You’re a good boy.”
“I know.” He tugged on her hand. “Come on! There are even more to find!” He dragged her away, leaving Knox and Danielle by the tree.
“I can’t think of a better kid to get a red egg.” Knox grinned at Danielle. “I wish Oliver’d given him all his red eggs.”
She sent a wobbly smile back. “You were so good with him.”
“Oli? He’s an easy kid.”
“No, the other one. The not easy one.”
“Aw, no worse than the new recruits I dealt with during my tour at Parris Island. Lots of blubbering there, too.” His smile invited her to share in the joke, but she shook her head.
“I mean it. You’re going to be a great dad.” Her lower lip trembled, alarmingly like the snot-soaked kid’s. “You always wanted a lot of kids.”
Not if talking about it made her this emotional. Was she thinking of the baby she’d—they’d—lost? How could she not be? He certainly was, especially now. He remembered their whispered conversations in the back seat of his old Acura, how they’d planned the number of kids they’d have, even named them. He winced, remembering how his contributions had been mostly based on Transformers characters. She had rightly shot them all down.
“You too,” he reminded her. He’d never thought about kids before being with her, but more kids equaled more sex in his teenage brain, so he’d been all for however many she wanted. “Although I have to admit I was more interested in the idea of making them than anything else.”
He’d meant the comment to be teasing, but her whole face colored until she had only one freckle stretching across the bridge of her nose from cheek to cheek. Embarrassed? Angry? He couldn’t tell. Should he apologize again? But that had backfired last time, so he did what he’d learned was often the best course of action in the Corps—he kept his mouth shut.
“You deserve those kids, Knox. Kids that you help make.” She placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed. “I better get back to the clinic and check on our new patient. Then I really need to get over to Fur Haven. Big day ahead.” She reached up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.
It felt strangely like goodbye. Like goodbye forever. He replayed the last few moments in his head, looking for a clue, but she was walking away so he blurted out, “I’ll be filling out the application to adopt Sarge today.”
She spun on her heel, wiping at her eyes. “Excellent. He deserves to be with the human he loves.”
“He loves you, too.” He couldn’t stand to see her so sad, especially when he wasn’t sure why. Probably that damn secret, but they weren’t exactly standing in a secret-sharing friendly venue. “Maybe I should get another dog. Maybe he’d rather stay with you.”
“No, you’re perfect for him. Besides, I’m about to have a full house.” She kept walking, only backward. He took a few steps to keep the distance between them from growing. “Flurry’s pregnant.”
“Congratulations?” Again, he wasn’t sure what the right response was.
She laughed and swiped at her eyes again. “Indeed. Guess I’ll see you at the Easter Bonnet Parade later?” Then she did that thing he was getting real tired of. She walked away.
“Yeah,” he said, but she was already gone.
Chapter 13
Danielle sometimes wished greyhounds were more of a working breed and less of an eye-on-the-horizon-keep-the-leash-tight breed. She could use one of those little dog carts she’d seen videos of Rottweilers pulling to load up her Homestretch table and props. Table skirt, brochures, greyhound swag like branded tennis balls and notepads. Not to mention Luna, Flurry, Sarge, and all the accessories involved in traveling with dogs—collapsible water bottles, first aid kit because you never know at these events, treats, toys, and in Sarge’s case, his midday medication. Poor guy. Her dad had taken off the cast a few days ago, but it was looking like the leg hadn’t healed completely right. Sarge would walk with a bit of a limp the rest of his life. On the bright side—for her, not Sarge—her dad had declared him strong enough to go ahead with the neutering. That meant Sarge would be ready for adoption sooner rather than later. And with the way Flurry was putting on the pounds, that was a good thing.
The three dogs had adjusted well to the single leash with three-way coupler, so Danielle wasn’t juggling three separate leashes. Still, it was no small feat, wrangling all three big dogs, her canvas totes of supplies, and the fold-up table onto the elevator.
“Need a hand?” Knox’s voice was as familiar to her as her own. It shouldn’t be after so many years, but it’d taken only that one encounter at the grand opening, and she knew she’d recognize his raspy baritone anywhere. Anytime. Like now. Especially when she was expecting to run into him, just not so soon. She thought she’d be behind the safety of her table before she’d have to confront Knox and make some excuse for why she was so squirrelly lately. Some excuse that wasn’t I want to jump your bones every time I see you, but then I remember how we can’t have a future and I want to run away. In this case, honesty was not her best policy.
“Yes, please.” Danielle spun and, there was no other word for it, drank him in. It wa
s as though her senses were starved for the sight of him, in spite of having seen him a mere few hours ago, like she was trying to make up for all the years she hadn’t seen him. It was hard to focus when her brain short-circuited every time she saw him. When would this reaction wear off? She suspected never. Knox would always be the one who might have been, and having him around again was only making everything she couldn’t have that much clearer.
Knox favored the braced leg, holding most of his weight on the good leg, so she handed the dog leash over to him. “If you can corral my wild beasts, the rest is a cinch.”
“What have you done to these poor animals?” Knox’s voice was a mix of horror and on the verge of laughing. “You sad things.”
“It’s an Easter bonnet parade. The dogs are supposed to have hats.”
“These are not hats. They are crimes against dogmanity.”
“They aren’t that bad.” She looked down at the homemade Easter bonnets. Okay, they were pretty bad. She’d gotten the idea because Sarge had been wearing an e-collar, otherwise known as the cone of shame, for a few days, ever since the cast had come off. He’d had a few spots rubbed raw by the cast, and Danielle was keeping an ointment on them that Sarge found delicious. The e-collar was to stop him from licking at the healing abrasions. Thus her inspiration—a few minutes on Pinterest, and she’d found her solution. She’d used two more recycled e-collars from the clinic, painting each one like a different flower—daisy for Luna, mum for Flurry, and a happy sunflower for Sarge. They weren’t exactly pin-worthy, but they weren’t terrible. “You have something against flowers?”
“Those are flowers?” Knox squinted like he was having trouble believing his eyes. “Were you going for an abstract interpretation?”
“They are obviously flowers. Petals, etc. What more is there to a flower?” Danielle held back a giggle. She’d painted the cones late last night and had gone to bed feeling pretty good about her bonnet plan. In the light of day, however, it was clear she didn’t have much to be proud of. They were, in fact, terrible.
