Maggie Moves On

by Lucy Score

“You named your dog Kevin?”

“You can let him out, you know,” Sy’s future wife said, falling into the dog’s trap.

“You say that now, but Kevin’s a little burly, and while he has a heart of gold, he can look a bit intimidating. Plus, he just ate an entire pack of thick-cut, hickory-smoked bacon, and I’ve got concerns about his ability to keep it down.”

“Oh, my,” Maggie said as eighty pounds of brindle pit bull celebrated his freedom with a zoom around the front yard.

“Well, aren’t you the handsomest boy in the whole world,” Maggie said as she gave the muscly dog a rubdown. Kevin swooned over onto his back to provide better access to his tummy. “Stop horning in on my business, dog,” Silas complained.

Kevin bounded up to her, a tree branch clenched in his massive jaws. He spit it out at her feet and waited expectantly.

He was dirty from nose to tail, the bottom half of his pudgy body obscured with dark, fresh mud. “Did you fall in a well?” Maggie asked. The dog gave a happy bark.

“I apologize for my brute of a friend there,” Silas said. “I would assure you he is not always an asshole like this, but then I’d be lying. This is exactly why he got the boot from therapy dog school.” Her sharp brown eyes darted to where the dog was rolling, stubby legs in the air. “Therapy dog school?” “The rescue thought, since he was smart and affectionate, he’d make a good therapy or emotional support dog. He was a fast learner, but they underestimated the stubborn streak. They could get him to open drawers and refrigerators, but only when he felt like it. Nailed my shin just this morning on a dresser drawer he left open before he helped himself to all my bacon.”

“Maggie Nichols, I don’t mean to scare you off, but I think you just might be the girl of my dreams.”

“One man’s garbage dump is another’s mountain of hidden potential,”

Can you turn on the charm for the camera?” “As long as there’s someone to hold my hand, I think I can manage,” he told her. “I’ll see if Dean is available for the hand-holding,”

“What I hear you saying is that there’s a twenty percent chance that you’ll fall in love with this place and your handsome landscaper,”

“He looks like a swamp monster,” she observed. A very-proud-of-himself swamp monster with a pink tongue lolling in pure doggy delight.

“If you put one paw inside that house, I won’t take you to doggy daycare this week, and you won’t see your girlfriend, Tabitha,” Sy threatened. At the mention of Tabitha, Kevin sat.

“I should get back to—” Maggie’s intention to work flew right out the window when Sy stripped off his hat and muddy T-shirt. “Oh, my,” Dean said. “Wow,” she said in appreciation for the very fine male form that was now toweling off his dog. “Pants. Pants. Pants,” Dean chanted. “He’s not going to— Never mind,” she said as Sy toed off his boots and shoved his thumbs in the waistband of his cargo pants. She turned her back on the window. “Bright-red Calvin Klein boxer briefs,” Dean reported with approval. “Just the one tattoo. Spare flip-flops in the back. Garbage bag for the clothes and towel. He’s prepared.”

“He’s telling the dog to get in the truck. Uh-oh. The dog basically said ‘fuck you’ and took off running. Now our landscaper is running,” he said, continuing his commentary.

“I almost don’t care what his estimate comes in at,” Dean announced. “You have to hire him just for the face and the comedy.”

“It’s a hell of a story we’ll have to tell the grandkids,” he said. “Or nieces and nephews if you don’t want kids.”

“I’m at a club.” He yawned again. “Met a cute librarian. We’re drinking wine and voguing.” “Translation: You’re already in bed and wearing your cooling eye mask.”

“By the way, Mags, neither of those estimates includes the ten percent friends-and-future-wife discount you’ll be getting,” he said with a wink.

“The hot guy gave me a nickname,” he whispered. “Control yourself, lover boy,”

“I know I’m coming on strong, and I know a lot of it’s just flirtatious fun. But when I look at you, Mags, I see something I’ve been waiting for.”

WHERE IS THE ADVENTURE IN FINDING ONESELF IF ONE USES SOMEONE ELSE’S MAP?

“Did I ever tell you that my heart skips a beat every time you walk toward me?” Silas said, flashing her a slow, panty-melting grin. “You should probably get that checked,” she said lightly. “Could be something serious.” “Oh, I sure hope so,” he drawled.

“Confidence comes from knowing that whatever the situation, you know you’ll make the best of it. Confidence is certainty in your ability to rise.”

“You ever stop and wonder what if life isn’t about earning your way to pleasure? What if it’s enjoying it when it makes itself available to you?”

There was a cloud above her, above the forest on both sides of the river, that looked distinctly like a white, fluffy penis. It was hard to hold on to the mad while looking at a cloud penis.