Make believe proposal, p.8
Make-Believe Proposal, page 8
"June?" He hurried after her, scooping up his briefcase as he jogged up the stairs. "June, we can't keep it."
When he reached the kitchen, his heart fell. Caitlin and Emma were there, in their nightgowns. All three of them were huddled around the dog, petting it, exclaiming over it, and squealing with delight as it lapped up water from a bowl.
"Is that one of my cereal bowls?" he asked, setting his briefcase on the countertop.
None of them looked up or acknowledged his presence. He sighed. "Um…maybe we have some empty containers in the garage we could use instead. We don't know what kind of diseases this thing might be carrying."
He combed his fingers through his hair, then cleared his throat.
"Daddy!" cried Emma.
She leaped to her feet, and ran to him full-tilt, slamming into his legs, her outstretched arms wrapping around him all at once.
He chuckled. "I was wondering if you'd even noticed I was home."
"Did you have a nice day?"
He smiled and kissed the top of her head, then the tip of her nose. "I did, pumpkin. How about you?"
"It was okay. Look, Dad, we have a dog!"
One eyebrow arched high. "Uh…not really. I mean, it's not ours."
"He…it's a he, Daddy,” Emma corrected him.
"Oh okay, you figured that out already, did you?"
She nodded sagely. "Boys have…"
"I know what boys have," he interrupted. "There's just so much hair and dirt… He really needs a bath."
Emma released her hold on his legs and ran back to where the dog was contentedly chewing on a piece of chicken June had scavenged from the refrigerator.
"A bath! A bath! Daddy says we should give him a bath. I want to do it! Let me do it!" Emma jumped up and down in place, her eyes wide and her voice rising in pitch.
"I didn't say…" He sighed and sagged against the counter. They weren't listening anyway, he might as well just embrace the chaos. He hated to even think where they were taking the dog to be bathed; hopefully not his shower, although it was the largest space in the house.
The three of them carried the dog haphazardly toward the stairs and then up. He watched them go, then shook his head. How had it gone from him finding a stray dog growling at him in the hedgerow, to his family feeding, bathing, and adopting it?
"We can't keep it!" he called up the stairs after them.
He waited a moment, but all he could hear was the running of bath water, and happy squeals and shouts. Caitlin hadn't even said hello, she'd been so intent on taking care of the animal.
"So, is there any dinner?" he shouted after them again.
Still no response. He wandered back into the kitchen with a scowl and opened the refrigerator door then stood, staring into it with a blank expression. Finally, he found a plate of food and set it in the microwave to warm.
He really should have come home in time to eat with the girls tonight. And he could have too, except that he didn't want to see June. Didn't want to face her after everything that had happened with her and Casey.
Perhaps he'd overreacted about what he'd seen.
He scrubbed both hands over his face. Sometimes he forgot just how hard the beginning stages of a relationship could be. It was one of the reasons he'd successfully avoided having one for so long—that and the girls. They were his reason for living, for putting one foot in front of the other day after day; they were also his excuse.
With a wry smile, he popped open the microwave and tugged out the hot plate. He hurried to the table with it and set it down with a huff of air. Then he sat and began to eat the roast beef with potatoes, vegetables, and gravy. It had likely been delicious two hours earlier but wasn't so great reheated.
By the time he was done eating, he heard footsteps on the stairs, and all three of the girls burst into the kitchen in a chorus of suggestions, exclamations, and giggles.
"Look, Daddy, he's white!" cried Caitlin with a wide smile.
"White, wow. Do you have a hug for your dad?"
Caitlin gave him a cursory hug before following June and the stray out through the back door to the porch.
"Where are you taking it?" he called after them.
Emma spun on her heel. "Him, Dad. It's a him."
"Okay, where are you taking him?"
"The backyard of course. It's fenced, and he won't be able to escape."
Roland's drew his brows low, and he pushed his chair out then carried his plate to the sink. He marched out to the porch and stood to watch them fuss over blankets and bowls with his hands on his hips.
"Don't we want him to escape?"
"No, Dad, of course not. He might not be able to find his way home again," replied Caitlin with a roll of her eyes.
His stomach turned. "Home? This isn't his home. He's lost, we have to help him find the way to his real home."
Emma faced him with her lips pushed into a pout. "Dad, can't Frank live with us?"
Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes shimmered with tears. Her thumb hovered close to her mouth. He shook his head in defeat. “Frank? Really? You’re calling him Frank. You’ve already named him?” He sighed. “I guess he can stay…for now.”
Both girls squealed and jumped up and down in place, then ran to throw their arms around him. He laughed. "I said for now because we have to find his owners. It wouldn't be fair to them or to him for us to keep him. I’m sure he has a home already and we have to make sure he gets back there safe and sound."
Emma nodded, still grinning. "Sure, Dad. Thanks, Dad!" Then she ran back to pet the dog. Caitlin followed close behind.
He watched them with a smile, inwardly marveling at how they'd gotten their way once again when he'd been so determined not to let them. He studied June as she sat cross-legged next to the animal. She glanced up at him and their eyes met, sending a spark of electricity through his nerve endings. Pain hovered behind her eyes, and she looked quickly away.
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, remembering the feel of her lips on his. What had happened between them? He should never have let it go so far, now things would be awkward and she was probably already back together with Casey. Anger lit a fire in his gut, and he pursed his lips. Why couldn't she see just how selfish and shallow the man was?
He should find some time to talk to her, though ever since the incident with Casey she'd seemed to avoid him—going to bed early, watching television in her room at night, or even going out with friends rather than staying in. And he’d avoided her by working late.
They needed to clear the air, and if he were being entirely honest with himself, he missed her. Coming home after a long day to tuck the girls into bed or kiss their foreheads if he was too late to see them awake, then spending the evening alone either working or watching something mind-numbing on his own left him feeling empty and deflated.
Perhaps, tonight, he'd spend the time reading his Bible instead. He needed some time with God to help reignite his flagging joy.
He mulled over the girls' reaction to finding the dog. Maybe he should have gotten them a pet a long time ago. They certainly seemed desperate to keep the animal. They'd only had it in the house a few minutes and had already given it a name. What was it Emma had called it?
"Did you say Frank?" His eyes narrowed. "What kind of name is that for a dog?"
June heard a shout from out on the deck, then muttering echoed in through the partially opened door.
Roland was home.
She'd heard the car drive into the garage and had decided to wait for him to come inside. He'd gone out into the garden for some reason rather than directly into the house and had been out there a while in the darkness. What was he doing?
Frank was out there. Perhaps Roland was finally warming to the dog.
She grinned at another whispered shout, then glanced up from the book she was reading to see Roland hopping on one leather-clad foot across the tiles. She stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with the pages of the open book.
Roland pushed through the door, then shut and locked it behind him, one foot still in the air. His brow was furrowed, and he swayed as he balanced there. With a wistful look toward the laundry room, he seemed to form some kind of resolution and reached to pull his loafer from his stockinged foot. Then, holding it aloft between his fingers and thumb, he carried it through to the laundry, soon returning with wet, newly washed hands and no shoes.
"Hi," she smiled around the word.
He hadn't seen her and startled at the sound of her voice. "Oh, June, I thought you'd gone up to bed."
She glanced at her watch. "No, it's only eight o'clock."
"Still, lately you've been…never mind."
He padded across the white-tiled floor to the kitchen. She could see into the room from where she sat in the breakfast nook beside the porch on a window seat decorated with an abundance of brightly covered cushions.
He lay his briefcase on the countertop, then stood with the refrigerator door open. His nightly ritual.
She couldn't help smiling. He was a good man. Even though he'd been avoiding her, and in truth she'd been avoiding him, ever since their kiss. She couldn't shake the feeling that they'd done something they shouldn't have. He was her boss, and she loved working for him. Loved being with the girls. And kissing the boss was a really good way to lose her job. She should never have gone out with him to the fundraiser, although she couldn't remember ever feeling more like a princess in her life.
She shut the book and lay it on the window seat then wandered to the kitchen. "Looking for something to eat?"
He nodded, his eyes still peering intently forward.
"We had meatloaf, and there are leftovers if you want them."
A quick glance in her direction, and his cheeks reddened. "Uh, that sounds great. Thanks. Just point me in the direction…"
She reached past him into the fridge. Her arm brushed against his and he jumped back as though her touch had burned him. His face turned a deeper shade of red as she pulled out a covered dish, then another, and carried them to the counter. "Here you go. And why are you so jumpy?"
He mumbled a response, his head buried in a cabinet. He emerged with a large, white plate and began scooping meatloaf and mashed potatoes onto it with a spoon.
She tried again. "What were you shouting about outside?"
He scowled. "I stepped in dog doo."
She bit back a laugh, pressing both lips between her teeth. "I'm so sorry."
He glared at her, a sparkle in his eyes. "I'm sure you're not."
"Yes, I am. Why would you say that?"
"You think it's hilarious. I know you better than you think I do."
She laughed out loud. "You're right. It is so funny, the way you were hopping along with one foot in the air. And that look on your face! It was priceless." She giggled mercilessly.
"I just don't think we're really dog people," he added, ignoring her mirth as he pushed the plate into the microwave.
"I don't know who you're talking about, because Caitlin, Emma, and I are most definitely dog people."
He glared at her again and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't want to come home and step in poop. Plus, it tried to bite me. I'm telling you, it's a dangerous animal and it's living in my backyard. I have no idea how this happened. Is this my house or isn't it?"
He was ranting, and she could see that he knew it. He was holding something in. That's how it went with Roland. If he ranted, it meant he was bottling something up. And most likely it had something to do with her.
She reached her hand out and lay it on his arm. "I know this isn't about the dog—whose name is Frank, by the way. What is it? What's wrong?"
He looked down at her hand on his arm and sighed. "Nothing. It's nothing. I'm fine. I just can't stand that dog. He hates me, and he's pooping all over the back porch…"
She laughed and shook her head. "Fine, I'll try to make sure I clean up all the poop before you get home. I can turn it into a game with the girls. Will that make you feel better?"
He nodded slowly. "A little… Although I see he chewed on the sofa out there as well."
With a glance back toward the porch, he inhaled slowly.
"So, what else is going on?" Her hand was still there, and the warmth of his skin leached through the fabric of his shirt and into her, setting her heart racing.
What was wrong with her? This was Roland, her boss and friend. She'd already gone over this a hundred times in the past couple of weeks. She couldn't have feelings for him. It would only complicate everything and quite possibly ruin her life. Not to mention what it would do to Caitlin and Emma if she had to leave.
She tugged her hand away and laced her fingers together in front of her yellow summer dress. The phone in her dress pocket rang, and she slipped it halfway out. Casey was calling. He'd called her a dozen times already that day, and more in previous days. She hadn't answered any of his calls, and she wasn't about to start. Not until she'd figured things out.
"We have to find the owners,” Roland said. “I was just out in the neighborhood putting up flyers."
"Oh, is that what you were doing out there?"
He nodded. "I called the local veterinarians’ offices today, as well, to make sure they knew where to find the dog if anyone came looking. They said we should take him in to see if he's been microchipped. So, I guess I'll do that tomorrow morning before work. Although I really don't have time…"
"Don't worry, the girls and I will do it. We've got nothing much going on tomorrow, and I'm sure they'd be happy to help."
He grunted. "Not likely, considering if we find the owners, they're going to have to give him back." He rubbed a hand over his mouth, his body tense. "I hate to do it to them, but…"
"But if the dog is wanted by its owners, we have to give him back. The girls will be fine. Don't worry."
His gaze met hers, and her heart thudded.
"Okay, thanks—that would be a big help."
She nodded and turned toward the stairs. She was tired, even though it was early. Being around Roland was hard on her now. In the past she would have spent the evening with him, joking, laughing, playing games, or watching television while he worked beside her. But now? Now there was a tension between them that she couldn't ignore, and it gnawed at her.
Behind her, he set his plate of newly heated food on the kitchen table. Then sighed.
"You're going to bed already? I thought we might play a hand of cards."
She smiled to herself before turning to face him. "That sounds nice, but not tonight. I think I'll just head to bed."
Her phone rang in her pocket. She pulled it free and glanced at the screen. Casey. She pressed the button to ignore the call and shoved it back into her pocket with a frown. Why couldn't he give her some space?
"Who was that?" asked Roland. Then shook his head. "Sorry, it's none of my business. You don't have to tell me."
"It's Casey."
"You can take the call if you want to."
She shook her head.
He cocked his head to one side. "Is everything okay with you? With you and Casey?"
He was fishing, she could see it in his eyes. Hurt, pain, curiosity…did he care more than she'd realized?
"With me and Casey?"
His cheeks flushed red. "Yes, aren't the two of you back together now?"
"No, we're not."
"Oh. It's just that it looked like you were…the other day."
She shook her head. "Nope. We're not. And if you'd given me a chance to explain instead of jumping to conclusions, you'd have known that."
His eyebrows arched in surprise, and he strode over to where she stood, then hovered in front of her as though he wanted to grab her. His eyes sparked with fire. "So, explain it to me now."
She folded her arms around herself in a hug. "Casey came over here, drunk. He said he missed me, wanted to get back together. I told him no, and he kissed me. You walked in right about the time I was trying to push him off me."
His eyes narrowed. "He forced himself on you?" His fists clenched at his sides.
"Yes, but don't get all upset about it. It's over now, and if he comes anywhere near me again, I'll probably kick him in the shins. He's usually a good guy, I’m sure he didn’t mean it, he was just drunk and not thinking clearly…"
"You give him way too much credit." Roland's voice trembled with anger. "He's just lucky I didn't know exactly what was going on when I saw the two of you." He ran a hand over his eyes. "I thought you'd invited him here, that you wanted to rekindle things… I'm sorry. I wasn't there for you when you needed me."
"Actually, you were—just not in the way you're meaning. But you coming in when you did was exactly what I needed at that moment. So, thank you."
"If he'd…"
"He wouldn't have. Trust me, I was about to unleash my self-defense moves on him if he didn't move." She chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood.
It felt uncomfortable to talk to Roland about her relationship with Casey. She still wasn't sure where she stood with either man. She'd wanted Casey to come back to her at first but now that he had she didn't want him any longer. Was that for the best? Was she overlooking all the things she'd loved about him, or had she just not seen him clearly during the time they were together?
And now Roland? How did she feel about him? Or he about her? It was all so clouded, so unknown.
"Good. He'd have deserved everything you gave him, too."
"He's not as bad as you think he is."
"He's not as good as you think he is."
She laughed. "I guess we'll just disagree on this one thing."
"Only one?" He arched an eyebrow, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
Her breath caught in her throat at the look on his face, the smooth, chiseled jaw, the deep brown of his eyes, the way a single red wave of hair had fallen across his forehead. She wanted to reach up and push it back but held her hands where they were.
