“So explain to me once again what a ditty bag is?” he asked.
“It’s just a small bag that might hold things like paper clips or push pins, or you might take it on a camping trip to hold your toothbrush, toothpaste, and bug spray,” I explained. “Or I might have had one that I kept backstage when I did pageants.”
“And what might have been in that bag?” he asked, curious.
“Preparation H and butt glue.”
“I can’t talk to you ever again,” he said, horrified.
“Oh shut up,” I said, laughing, and dropped a piece of bread into the toaster.
“Are you making toast?”
“Nothing wrong with your ears,” I said. “And, yes, I’m making toast.”
“Late breakfast?”
“Or early lunch. Didn’t really eat breakfast this morning,” I replied, gazing out at the driveway, where my parents’ car had been just a little while ago.
“How’d it go with your mom?” he asked, his voice careful.
“Not bad. Not bad at all, actually,” I admitted, spreading Nutella on my warm toast.
“That’s good, right?”
“It’s very good. I think she was still hoping I was going to show up in a gown and a veil in the driveway with Charles, shouting, ‘I do I do!’â??”
“That’s not going to happen, is it?”
“Good lord, no,” I said, biting into my toast. “I’d never get married in a driveway.”
He paused, then laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. Nothing says I love you like a little crushed gravel and an oil slick.”
“Did you have a reason for calling this morning, or did you just want to make me swoon with your redneck pillow talk?”
“How do you feel about fireworks?”
“In general?”
“Specifically. Like, we’re going to the carnival in town, and you’re invited.”
“Who is we?”
“Just my family. My mom and dad, and my cousin Sophia and her boyfriend, Neil, in town from San Francisco.”
“The whole family . . . hmm,” I teased, trying to tamp down the little flutter in my chest. “I suppose after the ditty bag fiasco, you owe me a little family drama.”
“At the risk of sounding like a douche bag, we’re a little more low key than your family. The only fireworks tonight will be in the sky.”
“I can’t really say no to that then, can I?” I said with a laugh.
And just like that, I had plans for a holiday outing with Lucas and his family. I smiled as I quickly braided my hair, still damp from my shower. I dressed simply for the day, white linen sundress and espadrilles, and was dabbing on a little lip gloss when I heard Lucas pulling up the drive. Dashing out front, I caught sight of a different car, not the truck from the animal hospital he was usually driving.
“What’s this? You’ve been holding out on me, Campbell,” I said, admiring the Mustang convertible, all bright red and shiny.
“It’s my dad’s; he rarely lets it out of the garage.” He hopped out and came around to my side. Dressed casually as well, he wore blue jeans, a green T-shirt, flip-flops, and a wide grin.
“How’d we get so lucky today?” I asked as he opened my door for me.
“It’s the Fourth of July, it’s a gorgeous day, and he knew as well as I do that this car needed to be driven around today.” He grinned, placing his hand on the small of my back for just a second or two as I climbed in, but it was enough. “Especially with a beautiful woman along for the ride.”
“Oh, are we picking someone else up?” I asked, making a horrible face when he shook his finger at me.
“Funny girl,” he teased, and we were off to the carnival, top down. It was the perfect day for a convertible. In town we parked and found his parents. His mother was a lovely woman, a tiny little bit of a thing. A little round, a lot sweet, and incredibly kind. She held tightly to the leash of Abigail, their golden retriever.
“I used to work with goldens a lot when I worked with the therapy dog program in San Diego,” I said, kneeling down to say hello to the beautiful dog.
“We used to have someone in town that did that, but once she passed away no one has really shown much interest in bringing the program back,” she mused. “Maybe that’s something you could do. Eventually. Lucas would love to help you with that, I’m sure.”
“What will I love to help with?” Lucas asked, turning from the discussion he was having with his father. His eyes met mine, looking at me chatting it up with his mom, and it was like he knew this was good. This felt right. I offered him a smile, one that he met with one of his own. A secretive smile, knowing, and full of something other than “let’s get a therapy dog program going.”
It took my breath away. The world faded; the noises from the carnival games became just a background blur to that sweet, sexy face.
“I was just telling your friend Chloe here how she should think about starting a therapy program here in town, maybe with some of her dogs,” his mom said, looking back and forth between us.
“Oh, so this is your friend Chloe I’ve been hearing so much about,” a new voice said from behind me.
Turning around, I saw a girl. Tall, incredibly curvy, with long red hair. No smile. She began to circle me—literally circle me. As she did, I had no choice but to mimic her movements. It was like a scene right out of the Beat It music video.