The Foxe & the Hound

“Rooting through my things?”

I drop the book like it’s on fire.

She chuckles and comes over to pick it up, and her silky dress brushes my leg as she bends down, straightens. My fingers catch the hem and I brush it between my thumb and pointer finger; it’s softer than I could have imagined. I drop it before she can notice.

“Aren’t you going to apologize for snooping?” she quips, finally meeting my eyes. I realize I’ve been waiting for her to acknowledge me ever since I first arrived. Now that she has, I have nothing to say. I lean back on the couch, taking in every detail she’s prepared for another man. Her long brown hair falls in loose, silky waves. Her makeup is heavier than I’ve ever seen it, though it’s still not much. Her lips have a soft pink color on them and as I stare, I remember what she tastes like.

“Guess that’s a no,” she says with a shrug.

She’s turning to back away, and I reach out for her hand. I don’t have the right, and her expression confirms that.

“Who are you going out with?”

Her brow arches in annoyance. “Why do you care?”

I tug her hand and she stumbles forward. It’s a warning: Tell me or I’ll pull you down onto this couch and you won’t make that date and I won’t run with Mouse. We’ll repeat the same mistake we made a few days ago.

“It’s just a guy,” she answers lamely.

“Where’d you meet him?”

She looks away. “The singles event.”

I drop her hand.

“Which one was he?”

“Tall, blond.”

I scrunch my brows, trying to recall someone with that description. Was the cowboy blond?

“I don’t remember him,” I finally admit.

She smiles, but it looks more like a sneer. “Probably because you weren’t at the event. You were on a double date.”

I have a hundred more questions, but she heads back into her room and comes out a second later with a small clutch. Mouse rushes over; he knows she’s about to leave and doesn’t want to be left behind. She leans down and reassures him she’ll be back.

“It’s kind of chilly out,” I say, pointedly staring at her spaghetti straps.

She laughs and stands. “I think I’ll manage.” She’s heading to the door when she adds, “Listen, don’t wait around for me after your run. I probably won’t be back until late, if at all.”

With that sendoff, she’s gone, and I’m left sitting on her couch while Mouse whines at the door, sad to still be here when she’s gone.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Tell me about it, buddy.”CHAPTER SEVENTEENMADELEINE“This is the best date I’ve ever been on,” I announce with a sated sigh.

I’ve got a hot pepperoni pizza propped up in a box in front of me, enough chocolate ice cream to last me for days, and best of all, old reruns of The Office playing on the TV. I couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Don’t ever say I don’t know how to wine and dine a girl.”

I smile and glance over to Daisy, who is currently wearing a hideous pajama dress, fuzzy socks, and some of those weird under-eye moisturizer strips. My slinky red dress is tossed across the back of her couch, replaced by an oversized t-shirt and Daisy’s pajama shorts. I’m rocking my own pair of fuzzy socks, but I drew the line at moisture masks. After all, my makeup looks killer and I’d like to preserve it, even if no one but Daisy and Lucas will see it.

That reminds me.

“Hey Lucas! Could you bring us another bottle of wine?”

He groans in the kitchen, none too thrilled about his role as butler for the evening. I’m quick to remind him of all I’ve done for him in his time of need.

“Remember when you and Daisy had that massive fight and I housed you for like a week?”

Silence.

Then a few minutes later, a bottle of chilled rosé drops in my lap.

“Open it yourself,” he says before heading upstairs to his man cave.

“What does he even do in there?” I whisper to Daisy. “Have you checked his computer history?”

She grabs the corkscrew from the coffee table and gets to work on the bottle. “I kid you not, he’s into basketball now. He’s watched every single Spurs game this season.”

I shiver at the thought of suffering through a sporting event. “Make with the wine. I think we can get through another couple episodes before I need to head back.”

“I still don’t get why you had to pretend to go on a date tonight.”

“I’m not pretending, Daisy, this is a date. I’ve been in love with you for the last 20 years.”

She tops off my wine glass. “Funny.”

I shrug. “I had no other choice. Adam was coming over and I couldn’t just greet him in my pajamas. He’s already seen how pitiful my life is, so I wanted him to think I had some semblance of a love life outside of him.”