I don’t cry when I’m sad but I do cry when I feel small.

  “Hey,” he says, touching my shoulders. “Forget I asked that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m sorry. I’m an ass.”

  “Yes, you are,” I mutter. As my hand goes up to wipe a tear, Daniel grabs me by the wrist and replaces my hand with his mouth. He kisses me three, four times across my cheekbones and around my eyes, drinking in every tear that leaks out.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  An evil thought occurs to me. While I have him so close, my hands cup his chin. I tilt my face up and stand on tiptoe so I can reach his lips. The kiss goes deep right away, lips parting, tongues eager for it. He lets go of my wrist and grabs on to my hips. Our bodies fuse together. I have to summon all my mental strength not to get completely lost in him.

  Soon enough, I can feel his dick pressing against me. I let go of his face and move one hand down to palm the long, hard bulge to the left of his fly. When I do, he releases a noise of pleasure somewhere between a grunt and a growl.

  Good, I think. Now I’ve got him right where I want him.

  I break the kiss and remove my hand from his bulge abruptly.

  “Sorry,” I say. “This isn’t right. I need to go look for Terrence. See you around, cowboy.”

  Without a pause to let him respond, I turn and high tail it back to the house.

  Yeah, that was a dirty trick that also left me feeling a bit horny and frustrated again. Then again, Terrence’s humans will be back in a couple of days, and I do need to find him.

  I see that Dolly, who’s a natural scent dog, is still staying right by the gap in the fence. I doubt Daniel took Terrence, because Dolly doesn’t smell him on Daniel. If she did, she’d be taking a chunk out of his nuts by now. So I guess I’m on my own to start printing out flyers and canvassing the area.

  On my own is fine; it’s served me well until now.

  Chapter Eight

  Daniel

  By three a.m., I don’t have any energy left to be angry at Molly for leaving me with blue balls.

  As soon as she walked away, I headed straight to my truck to look for Terrence. I spent a few hours slowly driving down country roads, checking ditches, farm fields, neighborhoods, and school yards. After dark, I made a couple more sweeps up and down our road and then went back home to see if the dachshund had turned up at my house or at any of the other empty houses on the street.

  No luck.

  Finally I tumble into the shower. After that, I post on all the social media neighborhood pages.

  I don’t like wiener dogs, and I still don’t. Terrence is definitely not my favorite.

  I’m not even sure I like Molly all that much. She’s giving me a hell of a lot of trouble.

  But damn, that ass.

  Are you sure it has nothing to do with her sassy mouth, her brains, or the fact that you’re horny as hell and deeply inexperienced at sex for a dude your age?

  I’ve never put this much effort into making someone like me, and I’m not totally convinced that what I’m doing now is because I like her.

  But maybe that lack of effort is the entire reason I’m still alone.

  Unlike most other guys at my high school, my body took a long time to develop. I wasn’t unpopular. I had friends, even female friends. None of them showed any interest in dating me, though. Not when our rural school was chock full of brawny athletes to catch their eye.

  I remained a fairly skinny kid throughout college, and was too focused on my education to put any effort into women. After college, my parents fell ill with cancer — one after another — and I was focused on taking care of them while half-heartedly building my career at the same time. There was no time for my own needs.

  It wasn’t until after my parents passed away from their illnesses that I started reluctantly focusing on my own needs beyond a career. I grieved, put my life back together, went to a gym, bulked up, and decided that real estate was a way to provide a stable income for a family someday. My parents were gone, and I wanted to be ready to start a family as soon as possible.

  I don’t want to admit to myself now that I’m making an effort with Molly for any other reason than physical attraction, and the fact that I’m long past due to lose my virginity. Yeah. It’s true. I’m a 27-year-old virgin, if you can believe it.

  As I drag myself out of the social media rabbit hole and back to my bed, I tell myself I’m only being neighborly. Any neighbor would do the same.

  I wake a few hours later to the sound of banging. I roar and bolt out of bed and look out the window. It’s barely the break of dawn, and Molly is back there, on her side of the fence, working on something.

  She’s got a sledgehammer, for fuck’s sake, and she’s trying to drive a pole into the ground.

  “What in the Sam Hill, woman?”

  I head outside, this time with a head of steam.

  “Is this like hostage torture? Are you trying to keep me in a state of sleep deprivation?”

  She brings down the hammer with a loud thunk. “Unlike hostages, you are free to pull up stakes and go back to Oklahoma or wherever you please.” Whack. “So please…go.” Whack.

  I ignore her latest plea for me to disappear as I hop over the fence. When she rears back to bring the hammer down once more, I grab it while it is still in the air.

  “What are you doing? Let go!” she says.

  “No,” I say, wrenching it out of her hands. “Not until you tell me what you’re doing out here making yet another racket at six a.m.”

  “I still haven’t found Terrence and I could not sleep. So I came out here to work. See? I already fixed the fence.”

  She gestures toward the area where the gap was yesterday. I see that she’s added another layer of chicken wire and lashed it to the nearest post. In other words, she half-assed it. But I don’t dare say that to her.

  I rub my face in frustration and then ask her what she’s doing with that hammer and the other pole.

  She squares her shoulders proudly and points to a box on the ground. The picture on the box looks like a security camera from 1997. “I’m putting up a security camera to surveille the area where Terrence was most likely taken. I’m going to mount it on the post here. It’s one of those that swivels around.”

  I rub my face in frustration. “Where did you buy that?”

  “Pawn shop in town. Why?”

  “I hate to tell you this, but you do know you have to wire that thing to a computer or a TV somewhere. You got cables out here?”

  She huffs. “I got extension cords and I got a shovel.”

  The wrongness of all of this punches me in the gut, but I’m also moved by her pluck and creativity.

  I have two choices right now. I could, as a handy fellow, tell her to step aside and let me take over. Or, as a man who admires a woman with grit, let her do her thing and fix it for her when she’s not paying attention.

  Looking past the determination in her proud, heart-shaped face, I can see the exhaustion in her eyes. She really has been awake all night. Poor Molly. I have to get control of that rolling, tumbling feeling in my chest, the one that means I’m worried about her.

  “I see. Well, carry on with your bad self. I’m gonna go check the animal shelters and animal control facilities in the area. In the meantime, so you know, the work crew is coming back today—at a reasonable hour—so if you see dudes around the property, that’s what’s up.”

  She looks quizzical. “You don’t have to check the shelters. I can do that…”

  “Don’t even start that. Yes I do. The sooner we find the damn dog, the sooner I can get back to work on my house.” I know it makes no sense what I just said, but I have to make my exit. That woman drives me crazy with her cockamamie, half-assed fence. I’m going out of my mind.

  I go back inside to pour some coffee and check up on the social media pages for lost or stolen animals. No sign of Terrence.

  I hop in my truck and head out, knowing full well that I should be picking up plumbing supplies for today’s projects. But instead, I head to the home electronics store and drop a wad of money on the most expensive security system that I have no business dropping cash on.

  Don’t get involved, Daniel. Meddling is not a good look on you.

  But as I load my haul into my truck, I remind myself that good fences and good security make good neighbors, and I aim to be a real, real good neighbor.

  Chapter Nine

  Molly

  It’s been a long day.

  I fixed the fence, installed my security system, played with the dogs, brought the pregnant Fluffy to the handsome-yet-sadly-unavailable vet to check on her status (should be giving birth in about a week), called around to area shelters looking for Terrence, and drove around with Dolly some to see if she could pick up the scent.

  And now it’s another lovely Texas evening and I’m back at my front gate, where I find a fancy, brand new security camera installed.

  “What the hell?” I say, getting out of my truck to examine it.

  I had priced these before, and they’re way out of my budget.

  I look around for evidence as to how it got here, but I see nothing.

  “Dolly,” I say, hopping back in the truck, tapping in the gate code, then waiting for the slow-ass automated gate to swing open, “Strange things are afoot at the Circle K.”

  She looks at me dopily as I pull into the driveway, but I know she gets it. She’s a very good dog.

  And then all of a sudden, Terrence comes tearing across the yard toward the truck.

  “Holy shit! Terrence!”

  I hop out, leaving the door open for Dolly, and grab up the little dog in my arms. I’m so overjoyed to find the little demon that I barely notice through my tears something else is different about my place.

  The fence line adjoining Daniel’s property had been completely replaced with a six-foot-tall privacy fence.

  Holy fuckin’ shit.

  Well, fine. If he wants to plonk down money to show off, have at it. But a six-foot solid wood fence? Now I can’t even see his house. What if he has a break-in? What if he dies alone in that house? I have no way of knowing whether or not he’s been shut up in that house for days if I can’t see when he comes and goes.

  And there is something else. My pawn shop and extension cord camera that was pointed at his house is gone, and another security camera has replaced it. One that looks exactly like the new one trained on my front gate.

  He is doing this to get a rise out of me.

  Well, there is no way in hell I am keeping these cameras.

  I storm into the house and feed the dogs, then make myself some dinner.

  My conscience tells me to go over there and say thank you.

  But I am not feeling it.

  I have my furry friends. I don’t need anyone, least of all a bossy neighbor who thinks he’s the alpha dog. Honestly. Tearing down my fence and putting up a new one. What kind of nerve?

  I scowl as I prepare my dinner. And then I notice, on the counter, a brand new iPhone with a note containing the six-digit passcode. I never had one and I don’t want one now. But I pick it up and examine it. It’s already been set up and there’s a text with a link.

  It says, “You can watch the security feed here.”

  Instead, I use the phone to call Boone.

  “Hey, sis.”

  “Hey, Pastor Butthead.”

  He laughs. “What’s up, troublemaker?”

  “You are not gonna believe this neighbor problem I have.”

  I launch into the whole story. When it ends, I expect Boone to be on my side.

  “It sounds like you found your new bodyguard for your misadventures.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  He chuckles. “Hey, listen, I see the senator’s finally come out of his office, I gotta go bend his ear about a homeless vet thing. But really, that Daniel guy definitely likes you. I…sorta know a thing or two about trying to get a girl’s attention.”

  I’m about to ask what the hell he means by that when he hangs up in a rush.

  I am hopping mad—about the fence, about the cameras, about the phone. But as I bite into my salad, that fancy phone is right in front of my face and the camera link is calling out my name.

  “I guess it won’t hurt to watch it just this once.”

  I set down my fork and click.

  Soon, I am in a double-screen feed that shows me the front gate and the fence along the subdivision.

  It’s pretty clear.

  It looks as if I can rewind it as well, so I do. I reverse the footage all the way back to the beginning. The time stamp is from this morning, while I’d been out running errands and checking around for Terrence. Daniel is on the screen, working on the fence himself.

  “Oh,” I say.

  I had assumed he’d had his workers install that fence.

  He’s quite handy. I watch his large hands and amazing biceps dig post holes with proper equipment. He is sweating like a…well, like a man. I realize there’s something about a brawny man using an auger. It is working for me.

  And then he breaks me. A few minutes in, during a stopping point, he bends down and pets Fluffer-Nutter, who’s been nosing around. The petting turns into Fluffer-Nutter hopping up and knocking him down, and in no time it’s a dog pile of happiness.

  I cannot stop myself from laughing out loud.

  OK. Fine. The dogs don’t hate him. And he does like dogs, despite his gruff words.

  Doesn’t mean I have to like him.

  Because I don’t.

  No sir, I don’t like him at all.

  I watch some more of the security footage, fast forwarding a couple of hours while nothing seems to happen. Until something does.

  In the footage from the front gate, later in the afternoon, Daniel’s truck pulls up to the gate. He gets out, carrying Terrence! He approaches the gate and gently sets Terrence on the ground and walks away.

  “What the hell?” I say to Dolly. She nudges my wrist for attention and I scratch her behind the ear.

  “He found our boy. Still doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

  Dolly whines and leans her whole body into my hip for a scratch.

  “I know you like him. I still say he’s insufferable.”

  And that’s exactly what I plan to tell him as I retrieve the butter and flour and begin assembling Daniel’s sorry-and-thank-you peach cobbler.

  Chapter Ten

  Daniel

  I’m heading out to my truck to check on Molly. When I open the front door, though, she’s standing there, looking sheepish, holding a cast-iron skillet.

  The thought crosses my mind that she could be here to hit me over the head with that.

  But then she smiles.

  Not a wicked smile.

  A warm smile. A grateful smile.

  The kind of smile I’m not sure I’ve done anything to deserve.

  “Hi,” I say.

  She lifts the lid off the skillet and says, “Hi, yourself.”

  I’m almost afraid to look at the contents of the skillet, but of course I have to.

  To my relief, it’s not anything gruesome.

  It’s a beautiful, old-fashioned Texas peach cobbler.

  My mouth waters instantly.

  I look up at her and then I notice something else.

  She’s wearing a dress…and she has on makeup. A funky leather necklace is looped around her neck, and her hair is tamed into a set of cute braid…things.

  She’s gone to a lot of effort to bring me a cobbler, but then maybe she’s on her way out to a date or something. The thought of another man with her causes an angry stirring in my chest. I don’t like it.

  The idea that she may have gotten dressed up for someone besides me might actually be pissing me off, though I don’t understand it. She has no obligation to me.

  “Wow,” I say. “That looks…and you look…beautiful.”

  She grins bigger and then bites her lip. “I wanted to bring you a thank-you-and-sorry cobbler.”

  I laugh. “Come on in,” I say, moving out of the way for her to come inside.

  She brushes past me and the aroma of the cobbler combined with her tart, fruity scent is about to do me in.

  And now she’s in my house. She is in my house with her scent and her cobbler, and all the parts of me want to scoop her up and haul her to my bed right this second.

  She sets the pan down on my countertop. “Nice house,” she says, glancing around the kitchen.

  “Thanks,” I say. “That Formica is going away and I’m gonna replace it with sealed concrete. The oak cabinets are still perfect; they only need new hardware and stain.” I point to the wall separating the kitchen from the den. “That wall is going away, and over here,” I tell her, gesturing to the back wall, “I’m going to put in some french doors that will lead out to a swimming pool. Sorry, you didn’t come here for a tour.”

  She smiles. “No, but I don’t mind. It delays me having to say what I’m going to say.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’m sorry for accusing you of stealing Terrence. And he is kind of a bastard.”

  I chuckle. It’s very disarming to hear her admit that one of her many dogs actually has the capability of being an asshole.

  “And there’s something else. I saw the footage of you bringing Terrence back today. Dropped him off at the gate while I was out.”

  I smile. “Yeah, I found him in a soybean field about a mile away. What happened was, one of my guys had started working on the fence, got distracted when someone else came outside to tell him we had a burst water pipe. It was all hands on deck. He sorta left a gap in the fence where he’d been working, and I guess that’s how the wiener got out.”

  She seems relieved to know the dog hadn’t been stolen. “Well, I think Terrence saw the error of his ways. He’s been very quiet all day, even in his crate indoors. And thank you for fixing the fence, even if it is a bit over the top. And thank you for the cameras and the phone. It’s too much, but I appreciate it.”

 

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