Promises to Keep, Nan Rossiter [feel good fiction books .txt] 📗

hadn’t even thought about dinner. Leftover spaghetti? She watched the bouncing dots that told her he was typing, but when they disappeared, she frowned. She went into the kitchen to see what other options there were, but when she opened the fridge, her phone hummed again, and she stared at the screen in surprise.

My little brother’s in town and wants to get together. Would u b up for that?

Wow! Was this a gift from heaven because I found the wherewithal and willpower to not read his letter? She swallowed and typed back: That would be awesome! but before she hit send, she reread her words, decided they sounded a little too enthusiastic, and backspaced. Carefully considering, she typed Sounds fun, left off the exclamation mark, and added a smiling emoji. Reviewing again, though, she decided to delete the emoji, and finally hit send.

Great! Can you meet us at The Distillery at seven?

Maeve looked at the time—it was 4:30 P.M. She started to write back, but before she could finish, another message popped up. I forgot I have Gus with me :-/ Will be home

Okay, she wrote back, and then she glanced around the room with fresh eyes and realized it looked like it had been hit by a tornado! With renewed vigor, she set to work, disposing of packing paper, breaking down empty boxes, and putting still-full boxes into new, more organized piles—at least you could walk from the front door to the kitchen without taking your life in your hands.

She headed to the bedroom to get ready . . . and groaned—the bed was covered with clothes and more boxes. Gage had made room for her clothes in his closet, but she’d filled the space in no time. There hadn’t been room for her bureau in the small bedroom, so he’d emptied two dresser drawers, which she’d also filled, all the while wondering what she was going to do with everything. Obviously, it was time for a major purge and a trip—or ten—to the thrift store!

She pulled her shorts and tank top off, threw them in the hamper, and stood in front of the closet, trying to figure out what she could wear to dinner. A minute into deliberating, she heard a sound on the front porch, and a second later, Gus charged into the room, wiggling around with his tail thumping. “Hello, Gussie!” she said, laughing. “I’m happy to see you, too!”

The puppy—living in a full-grown Lab body—raced around the small room, sliding on the throw rugs and nearly taking out the bedside table. “Hey!” a voice commanded, and Maeve looked up to see Gage standing in the doorway with a beer in his hand. Gus screeched to a halt, looked up at Gage with eyes wild and haunches in the air, and then, as Maeve tried to suppress a smile, he started to race again. “Enough!” Gage commanded and like a helium balloon that had run out of gas, the puppy stopped, panting, and flopped onto one of the crumpled rugs that had been pushed against the wall. “Sheesh! Someone’s a little excited!”

Maeve smiled. “A girl loves it when someone is excited to see her,” she said, laughing.

Gage eyed her with raised eyebrows and took a sip of the beer. “I’m excited to see you,” he said, smiling and walking over, slowly backing her against the wall.

“Hmm, I can tell,” she whispered, as he kissed the curve of her neck and pressed against her, “but there isn’t time for this.”

“Maybe you should’ve considered that before you chose your attire.”

“I’ve been trying to straighten up,” she said, “and get ready.”

He glanced around the room. “I can tell,” he teased, sliding his hand around her back and unclasping her bra.

“And I need to shower,” she murmured into his shoulder as his other hand slid toward her waistband.

“I can help with that.”

“I don’t know if that will help,” she said, laughing. “You’ll make us late.”

“Not if you’re quick,” he teased.

“I think you should feed Gus,” she whispered, nodding over his shoulder.

Gage glanced back at the dog—who was still lying on a clumped-up rug, watching them. “Good idea,” he said, taking a step back. He turned to the big yellow Lab. “Ready for supper?” he asked, and Gus scrambled to his feet and raced, slipping and sliding, toward the kitchen.

Maeve was rinsing her hair when Gage returned. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped his jeans and boxers to the floor. Then he peered around the shower curtain. “I knew there’d be perks to having you move in,” he said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes, but when he offered her his beer, she smiled. “Ooh, okay! I love cocktails in the shower!”

She took a sip while cool water splashed over his head and down his broad brown shoulders. Finally, he opened his eyes and gently pulled her against him. “Soo . . . do you want a cocktail . . . or the whole rooster?” he teased with an up-to-no-good smile.

“I want the whole rooster,” she said, setting the beer on the shower shelf and reaching for him. “And that reminds me,” she said, looking serious. “There was a fox in the yard this morning.”

He pulled back. “Really?”

She nodded. “It was stalking the hens, and if Pilgrim didn’t start raising holy hell, I think it would’ve gotten one.”

“Wow! I wonder if I should keep them penned in for a while.”

“It might be a good idea—now that it knows they’re here, it’ll probably come back.”

Gage nodded thoughtfully. He hated to keep the hens cooped up, especially with summer coming, but he didn’t know how else to keep them safe. “Hmm, I’ll have to think about that . . . but, in the meantime,” he said, gently backing her against the shower wall, “this rooster’s raising holy hell, too.”

“I can tell,” she murmured into his kiss, as he lifted her off the shower floor and slowly lowered her down. “Damn,” she whispered, closing her eyes and feeling him push deep inside her, the water cascading all around them.

Fifteen minutes later, they were