Feels Like Summertime (Lake Fisher 1)

She points to my bottle of shampoo. “Are you taking a bath?”

I wince. “More like giving a bath.” I jerk my thumb toward the dog, who is sitting at attention by my hip. “He stinks.”

“He does,” she agrees with a nod of her head. “I smelled you guys coming down the path.”

Her little boy steps closer and holds up a hand as though I’m a teacher with a question and he has the answer.

“Yes, Alex,” she says gently.

“Can I help wash your dog?”

“Hell, you can do it,” I say.

The kid grins. I really should watch my mouth around the kids. I’ve just never been around many of them, at least not since I was one.

“Really?” he says. “Can I, Mom?”

“Does he bite?” she asks me.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t know?”

“I just got him yesterday. At the pound.” He came with a bunch of paperwork, so I know he has been vaccinated, dewormed, and he was temperament tested. But that’s the extent of my knowledge.

“What’s his name?” Alex asks.

“He doesn’t have one yet.”

Alex takes the leash from me and gives it a tug. The dog sits there like a lump.

“He’s not coming,” Alex says.

“Yeah, he doesn’t do much unless he wants to.”

Trixie walks over to the dog and looks him in the eye. They’re the same height. The dog looks over his shoulder at me as though asking me if this life is the one I intended for him. “Go on,” I say. Then he sticks out that big old tongue and slurps it up the side of Trixie’s face. She giggles, takes his leash, and leads him to the water. Alex holds out his hands and I toss him the bottle of shampoo, which he catches like a football.

I don’t think he’ll bite them. Or at least I hope he doesn’t. The dog walks right into the lake and sits down. Then he waits patiently as the kids pour shampoo all over him and lather him up. He looks at me and I would swear he grins at me.

Katie points at the dog. “Did he just smile?”

I nod and cross my arms over my chest. “I think so.”

“He needs a name.”

“Do you think your kids might give him one?”

&nbs

p; She snorts again, and it makes me grin. “Try to stop them.” She gets quiet for a moment. Then she blurts out, “Do you remember the day we met?”

This time, it’s me who snorts. “Yeah, Katie. I remember.”

4

Jake

The first time I ever saw Katie Higgins, she was standing on the dock with a Coke bottle–the glass kind–pressed to her lips. I watched her throat wobble as she swallowed, and I knew I had to meet her. I had to kiss her. I had to…