Page 10 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
“Yep. I’m going to take him for a quick stop and then we’ll be there.”
“Sweet! Have fun.” Michael must have something special planned and I couldn’t wait to hear all about it when Coby got home.
I hung up and glanced at the clock on the wall. With an extra thirty or forty minutes, I could clean the laundry room and cross it off my to-do list for tomorrow.
Owning and managing a small-town inn wasn’t all that glamorous. The work could be disgusting and I’d gone through more rubber gloves than I could count, but the work was honest. It was real. It was something I’d come to appreciate and rely on.
Stepping outside and around the vending machines outside the lobby, I propped open the door to the laundry room and wheeled out my cleaning cart so I’d have room to clean the tiny space.
The laundry room and my office shared a wall, and one day, if I had my wish, I was going to eliminate my office completely and expand my laundry room. I’d gladly trade desk space for an actual table to fold sheets and some extra shelf space to stockpile toilet paper and laundry detergent.
But on the bright side, the laundry room was a breeze to keep clean because it was so small. By the time I had wiped down the appliances and mopped the cement floor, I heard a car door slam and a sweet little voice yell, “Mommy!”
I dumped out my bucket of bleach water and rushed outside. “Coby!” Seeing his adorable face was the highlight of my day, giving me a fresh infusion of energy for the remainder of the evening.
“Mommy! We got Pickle!” He tugged on Michael’s hand, trying to pull his large uncle faster across the parking lot.
Michael held up his free hand and waved. When he waved like that, it always reminded me of Beau. Michael looked more and more like our big brother every day, minus the beard.
Coby, on the other hand, was the spitting image of his father. I wished he looked more like me or my brothers, but we didn’t share many features except for our smile.
“Hey, buddy!” I waited for him to run right into my legs before bending down to give him a hug and brush the brown hair off his forehead. “How’s my little man? Did you have a fun day at school?”
He nodded wildly. “Mommy! We got Pickle!”
“Oh, really? I love pickles.” I smiled and looked up at Michael. “Did you guys go to the grocery store?”
“Um, not exactly.” Michael’s eyes darted away from mine and back to Mom’s SUV.
“Puppy! Puppy! Puppy!” Coby said, jumping up and down in my arms.
“A puppy? Cool!” Michael already had a dog but he loved animals so another pet would fit right into his house. “What did you get? I want to see.” I stood and grabbed Coby’s hand, racing with him toward the Yukon.
“Maisy, wait!” Michael called behind us, catching us quickly with his long strides.
“Boy or girl?” I asked at the same time Coby shouted, “Mommy, Pickle gets to live wif us!”
My feet skidded to a stop on the pavement.
Michael bumped into my back. Coby’s body went lurching forward, and if not for his hand still attached to mine, his knees would have landed on the asphalt. I steadied him on his feet and dropped to a knee. “What did you say? Pickle gets to live with us?”
“Yes!” He started bouncing up and down again, his brown eyes full of pure joy. “Uncle Michael said Pickle can be my doggie!”
“Really.” I stood and aimed a glare at Michael. “You bought him a dog?” I asked through clamped teeth.
How could he have not checked with me about this? I wanted Michael to be close with Coby, but a puppy? Coby was too young to care for an animal himself and I had plenty to do without adding puppy training to the mix.
“I can explain.” He held his hands up, backing away before I could punch him in the gut.
I dug a fist into my hip. “I’m listening.”
“Um . . .” Michael took another step back as Coby started pulling on my arm.
“One second, buddy,” I told my son without breaking eye contact with my brother.
“Okay. Don’t be mad at me,” Michael said. “This was all Dad’s idea.”
“Mommy. Come. On.” Coby jerked my arm with each word.
