Page 57 of Not Mine to Rescue
It sat in front of my wall of books and the antique dresser I’d picked up without thinking about how much labor it would be to move up all those damn stairs. Then he turned to look at my new bed that replaced the sleigh bed Jim “donated” to me when we divvied up the furniture. That monstrosity was still in storage.
I’d learned my lesson with the dresser.
There was a ramp so Molly could join me. Obviously she’d showed DA how to navigate it.
Between the bed and the window there was another dog bed which Molly should be on.
Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged her to sleep with me? “I don’t know if we’re going to fit.”
It was fine with just Molly and me, but Wombat, DA, and Molly?
“We’ll fit. Dumb Ass. Park it.” He tapped the dog bed.
Nothing.
“Molly, go to your bed.” I pointed.
Nothing.
Obviously the two miscreants were testing us.
“Huh.”
Wombat shot me a side-eye that said a lot of the things I was thinking. He was trying not to laugh.
“Is this what teenagers are like?”
He nodded. “Lemon wasn’t too bad. But according to Dad, Hal, my youngest sister, is a downright terror.” He paused to shrug. “I don’t see it. She must be on her best behavior when I go visit.”
“How often do you see her?”
“I go once a year. Her birthday is in August, so I take off for Sturgis early and make a whole trip of it. It hits right between the end of the spring rescue season and the second round of squirrel litters.”
Out of all of that, I had to ask, “Squirrels have litters?”
“Twice a year—spring and fall, like fucking clockwork.”
Huh.
“So do cats.”
“I knew that.”
Was he laughing at me? “And dogs…”
“Stop.”
“…rabbits…”
“Wombat.”
He grinned. “Those, too.”
“Can we just—”
He cut me off with a kiss. This time, there was no reason to pull away.
Chapter Fifteen
