Kael nodded once. “I haven’t heard any rumors about your store closing. I’ve seen a few sale signs in the windows, but no chatter about it closing. Did you change your mind?”
“No. I’m going to announce it after Christmas and hopefully clear as much out as possible before the first.” I shrugged. “The rest I’ll donate. Whatever … right?”
A slight cringe formed along Kael’s forehead. “Elsie …”
“I don’t want it. The store. I never did. So don’t give me that look. Maybe you were the perfect excuse.”
The tension on his face didn’t seem to ease up any. “So what’s next?”
“I don’t know. I might make a quilt. I’ve started several over the past year. The walls could use a new coat of paint.” That melted a little tension from his face. “When Bella leaves for college, I’ll sell the house. It holds a million memories, but I only feel the bad ones. And that sucks. Craig’s … everywhere.”
“And that’s bad?”
Meadow heeled next to me as if to say, “Let’s go, Mom!” I smiled at her. “Yeah, that’s bad. Anyway … thanks again for clearing my driveway.”
“Of course.”
“I’d better get this girl walked so she doesn’t destroy the house while I’m at work.”
“Want some company?”
I blinked at him a few times. Yes. I wanted company. I wanted his company. But I couldn’t ignore the rumors that a simple walk would start.
“Um …”
“Let them talk.” He smirked.
I bit my lower lip and wrinkled my nose.
“Fine.” He closed his door and his boots scuffed down the driveway to the sidewalk. “I’m taking a walk. If we take the same route … so what?”
I giggled. “Your truck is parked in my driveway.”
“Let them talk,” he hollered as he continued down the sidewalk.
Rolling my eyes, I guided Meadow to follow his tracks. We trailed behind him for several blocks as he whistled “Jingle Bells” followed by “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.” An unavoidable grin spread across my face. I had the normal appearance of walking my dog.
The yoga pants.
Sporty boots.
A dog.
Kael looked like his vehicle broke down, and he was walking to get help—whistling a tune.
Meadow veered off to the side to poop. I thought she did it at home—apparently I was distracted by Kael. I didn’t tell him to stop or wait. After all, we weren’t walking together. As she pinched off an enormous turd, I reached into the pocket of my jacket to get a poop bag.
“Not again …” I deflated.
“Is there a problem?” Kael turned around but kept walking backward, keeping us distanced.
“I don’t have a poop bag.” I glanced up to see a guy in his front window, sipping his coffee as my dog took a shit in his yard. There would be no kicking snow over the pile of steaming poop and running.
“Shit happens. Let’s go.”
I covered my mouth, so the homeowner didn’t see me talking. “He’s looking at me. I have to pick it up.”
“With what?” Kael laughed.
My nose wrinkled. “Meadow … why didn’t you do this in our yard?” I grumbled, bending down to scoop up a large pile of snow beneath the poop. Then I turned and headed back home, carrying the poop on the clump of snow like a stranded polar bear on a melting piece of ice. Time was of the essence with the sun peeking out, expediting the melting of the snow along with the heat of her turd.
“I can’t believe what I’m seeing.” Kael taunted me as he jogged to catch up. “Just drop it.”
My pace doubled. “I can’t just drop it. It’s frowned upon. Someone will see me.”
“You weren’t worried about anyone seeing you leave shit behind the day you were spying on me and Amber.”
“I wasn’t spying on you. I was hiding from you.”
“Same thing.”
“No. It’s not.”
“You were behind a tree … watching us. A classic case of spying.”
“Spying implies I followed you. Which … I did not.”
“Then why hide behind the tree? Why not just keep walking your dog and give us a wave?”
The snow was melting … too quickly.
“This is a stupid conversation.” I started jogging.
“You wiping Amber’s kiss off my lips … so fucking sexy.”
I rolled my eyes, but he couldn’t see it. “Stop gloating.”
“Did you go on a date with the banker?”
“If I did … are you going to wipe his kiss off my lips?”
“Wow … you kissed him?”
“Do you care?”
“Not really.”
I turned and threw the turd at him. He ducked, avoiding the collision by inches.
“WOW! You threw that at me? What did I do?”
I glanced behind him at the poop. We were in front of my house, so it landed in my easement. “I’m not emotionally dead like you. I care. Sorry … I just do.”
“I don’t think I’m emotionally dead.”
“You are. You just said you didn’t care.”
He rested his hands on his hips. “Because I thought that’s what you wanted me to say.”