What Is This Insanity

Part Seven

The weeks that followed slipped into a new kind of rhythm. Dinners out twice a week, sleepovers at each other’s places, dog walks, late nights talking, texting all day long. The companionship and intimacy slowly changed Joel from a grumpy, tired guy, to a less grumpy, sexually satiated man. It was a good look on him, you thought.

Even Tommy noticed.

“Hell, Joel, you’re downright tolerable these days,” he teased one morning at the job site. “Smilin’ at your phone, not glarin’ at the crew. Must be love.”

Joel grunted, but he didn’t deny it.

At the dog park, the weekend crew had stopped calling him Hot Grumpy Dilf and instead referred to you both as the couple, which Joel secretly loved. Walter and Penelope had fallen into their own easy companionship, often curling up together in a shared patch of sun like they’d known each other for years.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, Joel was already thinking ahead. Sarah had hinted more than once that she wished she could see you too — “Bring her to London for the holidays, Dad! You know you want to” — and though Joel had brushed it off at first, the idea rooted itself deeper with each passing day.

One chilly early December evening, as he walked you and the dogs through the neighborhood, Joel finally cleared his throat.

“Sarah keeps askin’ when she’s gonna meet you,” he admitted. “Thinkin’ maybe… I could take you to London. For Christmas. If you don’t already have plans and would want somethin’ like that.”

Your hand tightened around his larger one, warm against the cold. You always got a kick out of how awkward he could be when he wasn’t sure of something. It was utterly endearing.  “I’d love that.”

Joel let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

For the first time in a long time, the holidays didn’t feel like something pressing down on him, wondering if he made them good enough for Sarah. Now, they felt like something to look forward to, something to truly enjoy.

Joel Miller was a competent man, capable of doing things like rebuilding a deck in record time, navigating a Home Depot blindfolded, raising a level-headed daughter as a single father, and wrestling a stubborn beagle into a bath. He was the one people turned to for help for a great many things. There wasn’t much that made him truly uncomfortable or clumsy, but put him in an airport with a boarding pass, and suddenly he was all thumbs. You loved that about him just as much as you loved how confident and competent he normally was.

Hell, you loved everything about this man. That was becoming clearer every day you spent with him.

“Where in the hell’s the gate?” he muttered, scanning signs like they were written in ancient Sanskrit. You slipped your arm through his, steering him gently in the right direction as you fought a smile.

“Relax, Joel. It’s not a maze. Just follow the arrows.” Gesturing toward the overhead signs, you led the way.

He gave you a look that was equal parts grateful and grumpy. “Arrows don’t help when there’s forty of ‘em pointin’ different directions.”

By the time you reached security, Joel had already set off the metal detector twice. First with his belt buckle, then with a forgotten utility tool in his carryon. “Goddamn it,” he hissed under his breath, earning a stern look from TSA while they thoroughly searched his bag.

You tried not to laugh as you whispered, “First time flying internationally?”

“First time flyin’ period since 1998,” he admitted, cheeks faintly pink. “I ain’t had much chance for travel, what with raisin’ Sarah and all.”

On the plane, Joel fumbled with the seatbelt latch, then stared suspiciously at the seatback screen. You showed him how to use it in case he wanted to watch a movie or two during the flight. When the plane began to taxi, he clutched the armrest so tightly his knuckles turned white.

You leaned closer, brushing your hand over his muscled forearm in soothing comfort. “It’s okay. Just a little bumpy at takeoff. Once we’re up in the air, it’ll smooth out.”

“I ain’t worried,” he lied through clenched teeth, head plastered back against the seat and eyes fixed straight ahead. The dewy drops of sweat beading along his temples proved otherwise. “Uh, huh,” you teased gently, grasping his hand in yours, fingers stroking over the roughened skin in a rhythmic motion to ease his anxiety.

The plane lifted, engines roaring, and Joel muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer. When the seatbelt sign dinged off, he let out a long, slow breath and glanced at you sheepishly. That buckle would remain fully latched the entirety of the flight, however. There was no way in hell Joel was unbuckling that safety device. He was absolutely not getting up while this metal contraption was hurtling through the sky at a bazillion miles an hour, thank you very much.

“You’re enjoyin’ this too much,” he accused, his voice a rumble above the hum of the engines as those big puppy eyes gazed at you.

“A little,” you admitted with a grin, fingers grazing through his hair. You loved how salt peppered through the dark locks. Joel Miller was very much like a fine wine, just getting better with age. “But don’t worry. You’re still rugged and manly and devilishly handsome in my eyes. Even when you’re clutching the armrest like it’s a life raft.”

Joel chuckled despite himself, finally relaxing enough to lace his fingers through yours without cutting off your circulation. You selected a movie on the seatback screen and watched together while sharing a pair of headphones.

Hours later, when the lights dimmed and most passengers had dozed off, Joel whispered, “Ain’t never done this before. Traveled, I mean. With someone like….”

The honesty in his voice tugged at your heart. You squeezed his hand. “First time for everything.”

He nodded, his dark eyes wide and round. “I’d like to do this more with you.”

“Me, too,” you murmured. That three-word phrase ached to tumble out, but you swallowed it down as you watched Joel’s eyes flutter shut.

The damp chill of London air hit as soon as you stepped outside Heathrow, the sky a stubborn gray streaked with jet contrails. Joel looked like a fish out of water, equal parts jet-lagged and wired, hauling both your suitcases from baggage claim with stubborn insistence.

“Dad!” a voice called before you could argue with the impossible man.

Sarah came barreling through the crowd, bundled in a stylish coat, her Texas twang now tinged with Oxford polish. Joel barely had time to set the luggage down before she launched herself into his arms.

“Hey, babygirl,” he murmured into her hair, voice thick with emotion. A sheen of tears glinted in his beautiful eyes, and you watched the display with warmth flooding your heart. Neither of them noticed the picture you snapped with your phone.

When Sarah finally pulled back, her eyes darted immediately to you. A mischievous grin spread across her face. “And this must bethe woman who changed my dad’s life.”

Joel’s ears went pink. “Sarah—”

You reached out to shake her hand, but his daughter was already swatting your hand away, rushing in to hug you warmly. “Lovely to finally meet you in person! I feel like I know you so well already from all the video calls. I’ve never seen him like this, you know. So much less grumpy!”

“Do not,” Joel muttered, cheeks flaming.

Sarah only smirked, switching into her playful Britishisms. “Oh, but it’s true. Proper smitten, this one. Practically a soggy biscuit.”

Joel groaned. “Lord, help me.”

You laughed, instantly charmed by her wit, and Sarah looped her arm through yours like you were already family. “Come on then! Let’s get you both settled. You’re in my city now, and I’ve got the perfect itinerary. It’s late though, so we’ll start fresh in the morn.”

Joel trailed behind, shaking his head but unable to hide the faint smile tugging at his mouth.

For the first time in years, the weight on his shoulders felt like it’d been lifted completely away. He felt like he was floating on clouds.

Sarah wasted no time slipping into full hostess mode. The next morning, she showed up at your hotel with a messenger bag full of guidebooks and a color-coded itinerary.

“First things first,” she declared, handing Joel a paper map of central London like it was the Magna Carta. “Dad, you’re in charge of navigation.”

Joel eyed the maze of streets and underground lines like it was written in another language. The map was worse than the most complex architectural plans he’d ever seen. “Hell, Sarah, this ain’t Texas. Roads on here look like someone dropped spaghetti on a page. How am I supposed to navigate this?”

“That’s why it’ll be fun,” you teased, peering over his shoulder. “Think of it as a scavenger hunt. We’ll just follow you and see where it takes us.”

Sarah smirked, already tugging you toward the Tube entrance. “Brilliant. Just watch, he’ll get us lost within five minutes.”

Joel muttered something about “two against one” but dutifully followed, map in one hand, your hand in the other.

Joel’s phone buzzed with a text from Tommy as you all waited for the next train in the Underground. He was left behind, happy to dog sit while you traveled with Joel and insisted on sending daily proof of life photos while you were across the pond. This first one depicted Walter and Penelope sitting side by side in cowboy hats, tongues lolling, with the caption: “Howdy from home.” The ever-present scowl on Walter’s face really made the look.

Sarah nearly choked on her tea laughing, while Joel muttered about Tommy’s bad influence. His smile betrayed him though, and you already had thoughts of making a cute calendar using pictures of all Walter’s outfits for Joel.

By afternoon, Sarah shepherded you both into a cozy pub near Covent Garden. Dark wood beams, fireplaces, and a chalkboard menu boasting “Pie of the Day” delighted you as you all settled at a table.

Joel ordered a pint of bitter, giving the glass a suspicious sniff before sipping. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ain’t bad.”

Sarah laughed. “High praise, that. Quick, write it down for the history books.”

You added, “Don’t get too used to it. Next round’s on me, and I’m ordering us something with a ridiculous British name.”

“Like what?” Joel asked.

Sarah grinned. “A cheeky Vimto or a Snakebite. Proper university classics.”

Joel set his glass down firmly. “Ain’t drinkin’ that. Ain’t nothin’ good ever come from somethin’ called a Snakebite.”

By the second pint, Joel had loosened up enough to let Sarah snap a photo of him and you by the fireplace. “For the group chat,” she announced, ignoring Joel’s groan. Leaning over towards you, she whispered, “That would make a great holiday photo. Imma text it to you.”

You gazed at the photo repeatedly the rest of the night, charmed by how the roaring flames backlit the two of you, looking happy and warm in thick sweaters and matching grins. Love clearly sparkled in yours and Joel’s eyes, plain as day. There was no denying it anymore.

The following day, you enjoyed breakfast in your room before Sarah arrived, insistent on dragging you both through Oxford Street for last-minute Christmas shopping. Joel practically choked on his coffee when Tommy sent a shot of both dogs in sunglasses, posing like a buddy cop duo. “Mutt Riggs and Detective Penelope have thoroughly investigated every inch of my house.”

Joel showed you both the buddy cop before leaving the room. Sarah laughed so hard she snorted tea through her nose, causing a coughing fit. You had to lend her a sweater due to the mess she made of the one she wore. While she changed in the bathroom, you teased Joel that Walter looked exactly like him when he’s trying to look intimidating. Joel flashed you a long-suffering look that unknowingly proved your point but squeezed you in a bear hug, nonetheless.

Hours later, Joel trudged behind you and Sarah, loaded down with bags like a reluctant pack mule. “We’re gonna need another suitcase for all this nonsense.”

“Dad,” Sarah said sweetly, waving off his grumbles, “you’re a natural at this. Very Father Christmas chic.”

You slipped a scarf around his neck and pretended to appraise him. “He does have a certain Santa energy, doesn’t he?”

Joel growled, but his ears were pink. “Keep it up, both of you. See where that gets you.”

“Probably another pint,” Sarah shot back, making you laugh.

Later, you ducked into a little shop full of trinkets and Joel reemerged holding a small, wrapped package. He handed it to you, awkward but determined.

“For your desk. When you get that job you deserve,” he said. Inside was a beautiful paperweight engraved with your name, sleek and polished. Your throat tightened.

Sarah watched the exchange with a knowing smile. “Hopeless, Dad. Absolutely, hopelessly, in love.” A flush of warmth rushed through you when he didn’t bother denying it.

Another buzz of Joel’s phone ended the spell. This time, it was a picture of the dogs in Christmas sweaters. Penelope looked elegant and stately; Walter looked like he was about to file a grievance.

Sarah leaned over her dad’s shoulder, a delighted laugh spilling from her lips. “Uncle Tommy is a menace, I love it,” she declared. “He needs to start a Insta for them or something.”

You, meanwhile, gleefully saved every single one of the photos. “I’m making a calendar,” you told her quietly, “for your dad. Walter & Penelope: Fashion Icons.”

“Holy shit, that’s perfect!” Sarah whisper shouted, drawing a look from Joel for cussing. Brushing him off, she added, “He’ll love it, just like he loves you.”

That left you deliriously speechless.

On Christmas Day, Sarah insisted on the most stereotypical of tourist meals for lunch. “I can’t let you leave without fish and chips wrapped in paper. It’s tradition.”

Joel frowned at the heaping parcel of fried cod and chips. “Don’t look like much.”

“Just try it,” you urged. You’d had it a few times back home, but nothing beat the authenticity of having it in London.

He took one bite and paused, eyes narrowing. “Alright. I stand corrected. That’s damn good.”

Sarah slapped the table. “See? London: one. Joel Miller: nil.”

He shook his head, but there was laughter in his eyes. “Y’all just enjoy gangin’ up on me, don’t ya?”

You leaned against him with a grin. “Every second of it.”

The flat Sarah shared with her friends was strung with fairy lights, stockings pinned haphazardly to a mantel. You and Joel exchanged small gifts over tea, Sarah chattering a mile a minute about her classes, her friends, her favorite bakery.

Joel mostly just sat back, quietly content, his gaze drifting between his daughter’s animated face and yours. Two halves of his world, finally in the same room.

At one point Sarah nudged you with a wicked grin. “You know, Dad snores like a chainsaw, right? Good luck with that.”

“Sarah,” Joel warned, but you only laughed. “I’ll manage.”

Sarah smirked. “Oh, she’s a keeper.”

Joel pretended to grumble, but when you caught his eye, the softness there said everything.

For the first time in years, Christmas wasn’t something Joel endured. With you and Sarah on either side of him, it felt like something close to joy.

The morning of departure, Heathrow felt heavy in Joel’s chest. He hated the thought of leaving his little girl behind, no matter how much she’d grown up. Sarah clung to you first, eyes shining, as she said goodbye.

“Take care of him. Don’t let him brood too much on the plane, yeah?” she whispered, her voice wobbly but teasing. The tightness of her hug tugged at your heart.

You hugged her back tighter. “I’ll do my best.”

Then it was Joel’s turn. He held his daughter like he was memorizing her shape, kissing the top of her head the way he had when she was little. “Love you, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice rough. He never wanted to let go.

“Love you too, Dad. And don’t be a grump with her,” she shot back, dabbing at her eyes but smiling. “She’s clearly the best thing that’s happened to you in ages.”

Joel sniffed, not about to argue with that.

The flight home was quiet, but not in a lonely way. You leaned against Joel’s shoulder, half-asleep, while he scrolled through Tommy’s latest barrage of dog photos — Walter in a paper crown from a Christmas cracker, Penelope in antlers, the pair of them in matching wigs, and the last with brightly colored leis. Joel shook his head, muttering, “That man’s gonna be the death of me,” even as his thumb lingered over the pictures, saving each one to his phone before sending each one to you.

By the time the plane landed in Austin, Joel was itching to get back home to his pup and routine. The moment he and you walked into Tommy’s place, Walter launched himself like a cannonball straight into Joel’s legs, baying his relief. Penelope followed with her trademark dignified prance, only to break into a wiggly dance when she saw you.

“’Bout time,” Tommy grinned, handing Joel a beer and you a sparkling cider. “Reckon these two thought you’d abandoned ‘em. Had to spoil ‘em rotten to make up for it. Don’t worry, I only bought three new squeaky toys each.”

“And a million new outfits.” Joel rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop smiling as Walter snuffled at his boots.

That night, the five of you gathered on Tommy’s porch to watch the neighbors set off fireworks. Walter barked at every pop, Penelope judged him for it, and Tommy nearly choked laughing. You leaned into Joel, your head against his shoulder, warmth spreading despite the winter chill.

When midnight struck, Tommy whooped, Penelope sneezed, and Walter tried to eat a sparkler wrapper. Joel kissed your temple, his hand sliding over yours. “Happy New Year,” he said softly, the words carrying both promise and relief.

You looked up at him, smiling through the noise and the chaos. “Happy New Year.”

You kissed him then, conveying everything you still weren’t ready to put to voice. And for the first time in longer than either of you cared to admit, it felt like a year worth looking forward to.

By morning, Tommy’s kitchen was a scene of domestic chaos. Walter barked at the toaster. Penelope whined at the fridge every time it opened. Tommy burned the bacon because he was too busy laughing at Joel, who had just stubbed his toe on the corner of the table.

“Christ almighty, it’s like a zoo in here,” Joel grumbled, but there was a softness to it.

You padded in wearing one of Joel’s flannels, hair mussed from sleep, and immediately grabbed a mug of coffee. Walter abandoned his sentinel post at the toaster to flop at your feet. Joel watched the whole scene like a man who couldn’t believe his luck.

“Think this is what you want, huh?” Tommy teased, handing Joel a plate piled with the less-burned bacon. “A woman, two dogs, chaos in the kitchen? ‘Cause buddy, looks like you’re already livin’ it.”

Joel grunted, but his ears went red. He slid a plate in front of you before answering. “Ain’t the worst thing,” he admitted quietly.

You caught his eye over your coffee mug, smiling like you knew exactly what he meant.

After breakfast, the three of you took the dogs for a walk down the quiet, frost-dusted street. Walter snuffled every yard. Penelope trotted with purpose, as if she was in charge of the whole neighborhood.

Joel slipped his hand into yours, tentative at first, then firmer when you squeezed back. “Reckon this year’s gonna look a lot different,” he said, his voice low, like he was testing the words out loud. “But maybe… better. If you’ll stick around.”

“Joel,” you said softly, almost laughing at how unsure he sounded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The dogs tugged ahead, tangling the leashes, and Tommy hollered from behind, “Y’all gonna keep starin’ at each other, or are you gonna help me wrangle these two idiots?”

Joel chuckled, cheeks warm, and pulled you closer. “I need to tell you somethin’,” he murmured. You met his gaze eagerly and, without hesitation, he said, “I love you.”

Your face transformed before his eyes, a bright smile taking over, eyes sparkling. “Well, what a coincidence. I love you, too.”

tbc

Part Eight

taglist: @milla-frenchy, @noisynightmarepoetry, @bunnymami13, @lillaydee, @missladym1981, @therewastherewas, @joelmillerpascal, @baronessvonglitter, @ashleyfilm,

Part Six

Joel had faced all kinds of high-pressure situations in his life. Tight job deadlines, flooded construction sites, raising a daughter on his own, navigating Sarah’s teenage mood swings. But none of them compared to the level of nerves currently building in his belly.

It was Saturday morning at the dog park. The usual weekend crew was gathered around the picnic table. Maya with her coffee, Denise perched on a bench like she was surveying her kingdom, and the guys tossing tennis balls for their pups. Walter was nose-deep in a patch of grass, looking for all the world like he had no idea his human was sweating bullets.

Then there was you.

The cause of Joel’s current anxiety.

He cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said to get your attention. All heads turned his way, and he instantly regretted starting this conversation in public. But if he didn’t get it out right now, he’d regret it… and possibly chicken out from ever trying again.

“Uh, you busy tonight?” Joel kept his eyes on you, ignoring the others. “I was thinkin’ maybe you could come by my place. For dinner.”

For half a second, there was silence. You gazed at him as you considered the invitation, your lips parting to reply. Before you could, the others pounced.

“Ooooh,” Maya stretched the sound into something that could have been used in a soap opera soundtrack.

“Joel Miller, makin’ moves,” one of the guys called out, though Joel wasn’t sure whether it was Chuck or Rico, or even one of the others he hadn’t gotten to know well yet.

Even Walter looked up at him with suspicion, his puppy eyes practically screamed Here, dude? Really?

Joel scowled, muttering to himself about interfering assholes, which only seemed to encourage the peanut gallery. His eyes met yours again with pink tinged cheeks. “I ain’t making moves. Just askin’ you to dinner at my place, if you’re interested.” He kept his voice low, gravelly.

You beamed at him, removing all of his embarrassment at once. “Sure,” you said in a sweet voice that made Joel’s heart stutter. “I’d like that.”

And just like that, it was a done deal. Joel felt equal parts relieved and like he wanted to hide in his truck for the rest of the morning. He took that nervous energy home instead, focusing on tidying up and removing all evidence of dust from every surface.

It didn’t take long, and Joel spent much of the day fretting over every little thing until he exhausted himself and took a much-needed nap to ease his anxiety.

Walter was waiting at the door when you arrived, dressed in what you could only describe as his ‘formal wear’ – a white collar with a black tie, Windsor knot and all. Paired with Walter’s grumpy expression, it might have been the cutest fucking thing you’d ever seen.

Joel, for his part, looked nervous as hell, though he’d cleaned up even better than Walter in a light blue sweater, dark jeans, and socks. His hair was styled for once, swept back off his forehead. A few curls fought valiantly to flop forward, but he brushed them back with a quick swipe of his large hand.

He invited you in with a hesitant smile, like he wasn’t sure if he should lean forward and kiss your cheek or not. You made the decision for him, leaning up to kiss his stubbled cheek as you stepped inside his craftsman style home, and delighted in the flush that spread across his neck and cheeks.

“I, uh, got you somethin’,” he greeted, handing you a slim, wrapped package.

“Another gift? You’re spoiling me, Joel,” you teased softly, touched that he was so giving. You gently tore into the wrapping, finding a beautiful leather-bound notebook with a brass pen tucked into the spine. Your eyes lit up with gratitude. You LOVED notebooks of any kind.

You were in awe of how well Joel knew you already, how much thought he put into the little things like this.

“You mentioned job hunting,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as you gazed at him in wonder. “Figured maybe this could be for ideas, interviews, or… whatever might help.”

You ran your hand over the smooth cover, genuinely touched. “Joel, thank you. This is so thoughtful. I love notebooks and this one is the most beautiful one I’ve ever had.”

In true Joel fashion, he brushed off your effusive thanks with a gruff sort of grace that was quickly becoming synonymous with the man.

Dinner was simple but delicious. Pan-seared salmon, roasted vegetables, and bakery bread. Walter sprawled nearby, occasionally wandering over to check if anyone had dropped something worth his time. You should have brought Penelope so the bored pup had some company, but you weren’t sure if Joel would want another dog in the house.

Between bites, the conversation drifted toward your job search. “One hundred and fifty-two applications so far,” you sighed. “Only two interviews. The competition’s fierce. Every remote role has hundreds of applicants and nothing about me really stands out.”

Joel frowned, his voice gentle. “You got enough to cover your bills meantime?”

“I’m on unemployment,” you admitted. “It’s not glamorous, but I’m getting by. I built myself up a nice little nest egg over the years, but I’m avoiding tapping into it unless I really have to.”

He gave a small nod, brow still pinched in thought like he wanted to say but, but he let the matter drop and changed topics.

Later, you found yourselves on the couch, a movie playing low in the background. Over the course of the evening, the conversation moved from easy banter to quieter admissions to whispered comments about the movie as you sat cuddled into his side. You’d never felt so comfy and safe as you did sitting with Joel’s arm wrapped around you, enveloping you in a warmth you’d never known.

Mid-way through the movie, Joel’s focus turned to you, his soft gaze dropping to linger on your lips. “Can I?” He barely spoke the words aloud, the rush of his breath over your skin causing it to erupt in goosebumps.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his before any more words could be uttered. The kiss was slow, sure, and so gentle it almost undid you. His lips were ever so slightly chapped but tasted like… him. Joel’s hand cupped your cheek, warm and steady. When you pulled back, you both smiled faintly and stared at each other, breathless and wide-eyed.

Walter huffed from the floor, clearly unimpressed with the lack of snacks.

The movie continued, as did a few more opportunities for shared looks and surprise kisses. Joel’s phone buzzed on the coffee table as the credits rolled, interrupting another stolen kiss. He groaned when he saw Sarah’s name.

“She’s gonna know something’s up if I don’t answer,” he admitted.

“Then you’d better answer.” You smiled as he picked up the call with a reluctant swipe, his eyes still lighting up at the chance to talk to his daughter.

“Hey, Babygirl.”

“’Ello Dad. What’s crackin’?” she asked with that ever-present cheerful lilt. Her voice carried and you grinned hearing the Britishisms peppered into the conversation. “You sound suspiciously chipper. Have you found your inner Zen? Taken up hot yoga? Don’t you dare tell me you joined a cult!”

You stifled a giggle as Joel rolled his eyes. “Nothin’ like that.”

There was a pause, and you knew the gig was up. “Is someone there?” she pressed.

You grinned and mouthed let me say hi to Joel. With a heavy sigh, he relented. “Yeah. Someone’s here. You wanna say hello?”

A moment later, you were holding the phone. “Hi, Sarah,” you greeted, offering the girl your name. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“’Ave you now?” she replied brightly. “Well, tell me the truth. Has Dad been a proper gent or a right muppet?”

You laughed, already head over heels for the sassy young woman who was so unlike her father. “A proper gent, so far.”

“Good to know! Keep him on his toes, yeah?”

Sarah asked you a few questions, eager to know more about you and the call ended twenty minutes later with Sarah sending her love to both you and Walter, and Joel giving you a sheepish look as he took the phone back. “Told ya she was somethin’.”

“Mm-hmm,” you said with a teasing smile. “I don’t’ know what you’re talking about, she was lovely.”

Walter stretched at your feet, releasing a long, loud groan, clearly ready for bed.

Sunlight spilled through the blinds in golden stripes, painting your bedroom walls in soft warmth. You’d been awake for a while, replaying the night before like a favorite song on repeat.

Joel’s smile had been quieter than most people’s, small and a little shy, but it lingered, and you felt lucky every time it found its way toward you. And those kisses… well, you’d spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about them while brushing your teeth this morning. Slow. Steady. The kind that could make you forget your own name if you weren’t careful.

You’d told yourself to be cautious, that you didn’t know him well enough yet. But somehow, it also felt like you’d known each other forever. The way he listened last night, really listened, as you talked about your job search. The thoughtful gift. The way he looked at you like you weren’t just another face in a sea of applicants and strangers. It was… well, you didn’t have the words.

Walter’s soft, steady snore had been the soundtrack to dinner, and you couldn’t stop smiling at the image of him flopping down in Joel’s living room like he owned the place. The easy banter between Joel and his daughter on the phone stuck with you, too. Sarah had the kind of warmth you couldn’t fake. The kind you got from being loved by a great dad like Joel.

Now, lying here, you caught yourself wondering if you should invite Joel over next weekend. Maybe cook for him this time. Let him see your place, messy bookshelves, stubborn houseplants, and all. Maybe you’d ask him to bring Walter so they could spend the night. The thought made your heart skip and stomach flutter.

It was too soon. Wasn’t it?

Maybe it wasn’t.

You pulled the covers over your head with a groan, as if the decision might come easier in the dark. But no matter how you tried to distract yourself, one fact remained clear. Joel Miller had gotten under your skin, and you were falling deeper for the handsome, rugged man every day.

Joel’s week had been a mix of long days at work, a few evenings at the dog park, and more texts from you than he’d expected to enjoy. You even surprised him with an evening call one night which completely made his week better. Walter had been on his best behavior for most of it, until Thursday morning when Joel left him alone for twenty-five minutes to pick up lumber and came back to find a chewed-up work glove scattered across the living room and a slipper in the sink.

“Buddy, you’re makin’ me look bad,” Joel scolded, holding up the slobbery remains of the glove. Walter just wagged his tail like destruction was an art form to be proud of.

That evening, Joel stopped by Tommy’s to grab a tool belt he’d loaned him and shared a few beers.

“So,” Tommy began, leaning against the counter with a smirk, “heard from Sarah that you’re keepin’ real busy these days with your dog park girl.”

Joel narrowed his eyes at his brother, the crease between his eyes deepening. “Don’t start.”

“Not startin’, promise. Just sayin’… it’s good to see you being social and happy. When do I get to meet the mystery woman?”

“Tommy—”

The younger man chuckled, holding up a hand. “Relax. I think it’s great, man. Just wanna meet the lady makin’ my big brother all full of sunshine and daisies sometime. Ya know, before she figures out what a truly grumpy ol’ bastard you are.”

Joel muttered something about brothers needing to mind their own damn business, but his ears burned all the same. After a long swig from the beer bottle in his hand, Joel changed the subject to the next day’s work.

On the way home, he received a text from you asking him over for a dinner date at your place the next night. No one was there to witness the grin that split across his grizzled face as he eagerly replied.

The second Joel stepped through your door, Walter’s nose was pressed to every corner like a tiny health inspector. All he was missing was a clipboard.

“He’s thorough,” you said with tinkling laughter as Walter padded into the kitchen. You pressed a chaste kiss on Joel’s lips once the door was closed behind him.

“He’s nosy,” Joel corrected, but there was a softness in the way he watched the dog explore.

You gave him the penny tour, Penelope and Walter trotting at your heels, before leading them all to the dining room. Joel noted your home was bright and inviting, just like you, and warmth flooded through you. He was being too kind, you were sure, as you glanced around at the books stacked on the end tables and half-dead plants in mismatched pots. Betty Homemaker, you were not.

Dinner, a savory chicken marsala over a bed of rice, was already laid out on warming plates. A bottle of Pinot Noir and two stemmed glasses awaited you both. The pups sat at your feet as you settled into your seats, not begging but definitely waiting for a tasty morsel to drop from the table.

Conversation flowed as smoothly as ever, the pair of you becoming ever more comfortable with each other. After dinner, you settled on the couch with your wine and continued chatting. After a few minutes, Walter leapt up beside you, stealing Penelope’s usual spot to rest his head on your thigh.

“I think your dog likes me better,” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

Joel smirked. “He has great taste.” His hand found yours, calloused fingers brushing over your skin before lacing together. His voice was low when he added, “I’m glad you asked me over.”

It was you who leaned in first this time, closing the small distance until your lips met his in an unhurried but deep kiss, the kind that made the rest of the world fade away. Joel responded with equal care, one hand cupping your jaw, the other resting lightly at your waist.

The rest of the night unfolded sensuously. With gentle, yet passionate movements, clothes were stripped and left forgotten in a trail toward your bedroom. Breathy whispered assurances and laughter surrounded you as Joel made love to you for the first time, slow and deliberate, like he’d been waiting a long, long time to be this close to you and wanted to remember every nanosecond.

Afterward, you curled under the covers together, sated and sleepy, Penelope and Walter sprawled across the bed at your feet. Joel’s arm was draped over your waist as he pulled you closer, his breath warm against your neck.

Neither of you said it out loud, but you both knew. You’d crossed into something meaningful, serious. A certain L word fluttered through your mind moments before you drifted off to sleep and you could not force yourself to deny it this time.

The smell of coffee and the quiet sound of dog nails on hardwood greeted you before sunlight did. Joel was already in your kitchen, hair adorably mussed, t-shirt a little wrinkled, pouring steaming coffee into two mismatched mugs like he’d been in your kitchen a hundred times before. Walter sat at his feet, tail thumping lazily, while Penelope had claimed her usual perch near the window to watch the songbirds.

“Mornin’,” Joel rumbled, offering you a kiss along with the mug when you padded into the room, still warm from sleep.

“Morning handsome,” you replied, trying not to grin at how natural he looked in your space.

After finishing your coffee in comfortable silence, you leashed the dogs and stepped outside together, the cool morning air wrapping around you both as you strolled through the quiet neighborhood streets. Walter trotted ahead with surprising dignity, tail up like he was on patrol, while Penelope zigzagged after every drifting leaf.

For a while, you walked in silence, your arm brushing Joel’s every so often. But before long, Joel caught your hand, tangling your fingers together.

“Been a long time since I woke up somewhere that didn’t feel… empty,” Joel said suddenly, voice low but sure.

You glanced up at him, heart tightening. “I know what you mean.”

He nodded, eyes on Walter, who had stopped to investigate a suspicious bush. “I don’t do this often. Or at all, really. So, I want you to know I’m serious about this. About us.”

Your breath caught at the words, simple but weighted.

“I’m serious, too,” you admitted softly. “I don’t want to wonder if you’re seeing anyone else. I’d like this to be, like, official. Is that okay?”

Joel slowed, stopping just shy of the corner lamppost, and turned to face you fully with a soft squeeze of your hand. “Exclusive it is, then,” he said with the kind of certainty that left no doubt and the small, crooked smile on his face transformed into a grin. “Guess that makes you Walter’s stepmom.”

You laughed raucously, leaning into him, and he beamed at you before leaning down to kiss you right there on the sidewalk. Gentle, unhurried, with the dogs as your only audience as far as you knew.

When you broke apart, Walter huffed loudly, tugging on his leash with his teeth to remind you that breakfast was long overdue.

Joel chuckled. “Alright, boss. Let’s get these two fed before they stage a mutiny.”

tbc

Part Seven

taglist: @milla-frenchy, @noisynightmarepoetry, @bunnymami13, @lillaydee, @missladym1981, @therewastherewas, @joelmillerpascal, @baronessvonglitter, @ashleyfilm,

The local coffee shop was tucked just off the main square downtown, all weathered brick and big windows with crooked and chipped white trim. It had the kind of charm that made it feel like stepping into a warm hug, cinnamon and espresso scents curling in the air and wrapping around you. A barista in a red beanie danced to some indie folk music behind the counter, drawing a smile from your lips.

You were already seated at a corner table when Joel walked in, Walter trailing dutifully beside him with his vest on and a pawprint bandana around neck. You had to admit, it was kind of unfair how effortlessly good Joel looked in jeans and a flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the rugged strength of his forearms. His dark, hooded eyes found yours and that subtle, lopsided smile of his broke across his handsome face.

“Hey,” you greeted as he approached, suddenly more aware of the butterflies currently doing parkour in your tummy. Your fingers ached to slither over your hair and clothes to make sure nothing was out of place, but you fought it.

“Hey,” he echoed, his voice low and easy. He glanced toward the leash hook near the table. “Mind if Walter parks it here?”

“Of course not. Penelope’s already claimed her sunbeam under the table,” you said, gesturing to your dog, who was curled up in a pool of sunlight with all the regal grace of a queen in exile.

Joel clipped Walter’s leash to the hook, allowing the pup the freedom to nudge Penelope over to share the warmth of the sunbeam. Joel reached into his pocket, pulling something out as he sat across from you. “Got somethin’ for you.”

You blinked, stunned. “For me?” You hadn’t expected a gift on the first date. Wait, was this a date? You weren’t certain.

He handed you a small, smooth object wrapped loosely in brown paper and twine. A pleasant chill ran through you, raising the little hairs on your arms when your hand brushed his. “Don’t get too excited. It’s nuthin’ fancy.”

You unwrapped it slowly, breath catching when you saw what lay inside: an old-fashioned compass, worn but still functional. The metal was brushed bronze, the glass cover slightly scratched. It looked like it had a history of being well-used and much treasured.

“I know you said at the park you’d been feelin’ a little lost lately,” Joel said, scratching the back of his neck. “Figured maybe this’d help. Or at least be a reminder that you ain’t gotta stay that way.”

You looked up at him, throat tight with overwhelming emotion. “Joel… this is… wow. Thank you! That’s a really thoughtful gift.”

He shrugged, suddenly bashful. “Like I said. Not fancy.”

“No, it’s perfect,” you said with soft insistence, your thumb brushing the compass face tenderly. “Seriously. No one’s ever given me anything like this. And fancy doesn’t mean much to me anyway.”

Walter let out a happy little huff and Penelope lifted her head to lean it over his back.

Joel gestured to the counter. “Wanna order before the dogs unionize for snacks?”

You laughed, tucking the treasured and unexpected gift in your pocket. “Yeah. I think Penelope’s already planning a strike.”

Once the drinks were ordered – black coffee for Joel, lavender oat milk latte for you – and a couple of pup-friendly treats had been smuggled into napkins, you both settled back into the corner table, legs brushing slightly beneath it. The light from the windows warmed your side of the booth, and Joel leaned back with his cup, eyes studying the street for a second before glancing over at you.

“So,” he began, “you always drink fancy flower milk or is this a special occasion?”

You smirked. “You mean lavender? Yes, Joel. I enjoy the occasional floral beverage. Live a little and try it sometime.”

“I live plenty. Just don’t need my coffee smellin’ like a candle or garden.”

You snorted, shaking your head, and sipped your latte like the picture of dignity. Conversation flowed surprisingly well after that. Joel shared a bit more about Sarah. How she’d fallen in love with the UK after a school trip, how proud he was of her even if he hated the distance and time zones. You told him about your last job, the parts you loved and the sense of burnout, how strange it was to now wake up with no deadlines and no real idea of what’s next.

“I guess it’s just weird not having something to aim for,” you admitted, idly spinning your mug in slow circles. “Like… I know I’ll figure it out, but I keep waking up feeling like a balloon someone forgot to tie down.”

Joel nodded, expression thoughtful as he listened to you spill your guts like you’d known each other forever. There was unexpected comfort sparking between the two of you, allowing you to be vulnerable and not regret it. It was marvelous and terrifying all at once.

“Maybe you don’t need a direction just yet. Maybe you just need a little stillness first. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with floatin’ about for a while.”

You smiled, surprised at how much Joel’s sage advice helped. “You really are a lot more poetic than you let on.”

He scoffed, waving the statement off with his large hand. Your mind wandered for a brief moment, wondering how those hands would feel on you. “Don’t go spreadin’ that rumor. The guys at the jobsite would have a field day.”

Before either of you knew it, a few hours had passed, and the lunch rush was starting up. Conversation with Joel was so easy and fun that you both lost all sense of time. Walter and Penelope did too, apparently, as Walter shifted under the table, his nose nuzzling Penelope’s neck as they slept curled up together beneath the table.

Joel gazed at you with those molten chocolate eyes, finger tapping nervously on his cup. “Listen, I… uh… was wonderin’ if you might wanna do this again? Not the coffee, necessarily, but just get together again. Hang out. Go somewhere.”

His cheeks pinkened with each word that tumbled from those pouty lips, and you beamed back at him. “Yeah, Joel. I’d really like that,” you replied without hesitation. Part of you wondered if you were too eager. It’d been so long since you felt a connection like this, you were definitely feeling like a fish out of water.

That lopsided smile returned, slow and genuine, and your heart melted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You both sat there grinning at each other like a pair of idiots until the dogs finally grew restless and it was time to leave.

Over the next few weeks, the quiet space around Joel stopped feeling so empty.

It wasn’t a dramatic change. Nothing fast or reckless. Rather, it was a slow yet noticeable shift, like someone opened a window in a stuffy room to let fresh air in, slowly becoming more breathable.

Annoyingly, everyone seemed to notice. Especially Tommy.

“Who’s got you smilin’ at your phone like a damn teenager?” he asked one morning on-site, sauntering up beside Joel as he leaned against the side of the truck for his daily dose of little brother shenanigans. “Don’t tell me it’s a fantasy football league. I’m not falling for that shit again. I lost three hundred bucks last time you suckered me into one of those.”

Joel quickly locked his phone screen and shoved it in his pocket. “None of your damn business.”

“Oh! So, it’s a woman.” Tommy grinned like a shark scenting blood in the water.

Joel merely glared at his brother, annoyance mixing with that long-held familial love. “Still none of your damn business.”

“It’s the dog park lady, isn’t it?” Tommy gasped, knowing he was right. “Did Walter play wingman again. I swear, I’m gettin’ that dog a cape for being such a superhero in your life. He’s breathed life back into you, brother.”

Joel turned and walked away mid-conversation, muttering something about needing a wrench and a restraining order. He’d never admit it aloud, but Tommy wasn’t wrong. You and Joel had started texting consistently after that coffee date. It started out as easy back-and-forths, sharing silly banter. Photos of Penelope looking judgmental, followed by Joel sharing ones of an equally disapproving Walter. It blossomed into daily good mornings and midday check-ins, conversations lasting longer throughout the day until well wishes for a good night’s sleep were the last communications for the day.

One day, Joel sent a blurry picture of a half-demolished bathroom with the caption: Client wanted ‘open concept’. Think I overshot.

You responded with a meme of an otter in safety goggles and the caption licensed contractor vibes.

He’d stared at that one longer than he meant to, smiling to himself like an idiot before Walter barked at the doorframe for absolutely no reason.

Suddenly, Joel found himself thinking about you morning, noon, and night. His dreams were filled with you, though he could never quite remember the details come morning. Your conversations filled that void left behind by Sarah and a lack of focusing on himself for so long he didn’t realize how vast the emptiness was.

Dog park meetups became a routine.

Saturday mornings were your unofficial dates, even if no one said the word out loud. Joel started showing up with coffee for you. Sometimes black with some cream and sugar on the side, other times the lavender-scented abominations he now begrudgingly accepted as part of your charm, even if he was embarrassed as fuck to order that shit.

You noticed how he’d started lingering longer. How he laughed more now. Still quiet, still rough around the edges, but opening himself up more and more often, making conversation with the dog park crowd when your attention was pulled elsewhere. He’d scratch behind Walter’s ears while you talked or stand just a little closer than necessary when the dogs flopped tiredly at your feet.

One morning, Joel showed up late, dust on his jeans and a new scrape on his tanned forearm. “Sorry. I had to wrangle a cabinet that didn’t wanna fit. Tommy took forever to come help me.”

You smirked. “Sounds like me trying on jeans last week. They just didn’t want to fit.”

Joel chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. He gave you a look that said you’re ridiculous, but the sparkling glint in his dark eyes let you know he loved it.

You walked a few laps together that day, sharing stories about childhood pets and embarrassing first jobs. Joel told you about a time when Sarah tried to bleach her hair blonde when she was twelve and cried for three days when it turned some crazy mottled orange color and totally dried out her riotous curls.

“Took a lot of money to fix that mistake,” Joel recalled, eyes crinkling at the memory. “That’s when I learned how expensive women’s haircare is.”

You were enraptured by tales of his daughter and insisted on a few more, falling in love with both him and Sarah with each one.

“She sounds amazing,” you said sincerely when the tales came to an end, and it was time to head home.

Joel smiled softly at you, quiet and proud. “She is. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

Later that night, Joel stood in his kitchen heating up more leftover chili – how much did Sarah make before she left for England, he wondered – when she FaceTimed him out of the blue.

Her sweet face filled the screen, wrapped in a hoodie. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Babygirl.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You look… lighter or something. Did you take a yoga class like I suggested? I swear it will help your back pa—”

Sarah cut herself off mid-word, assessing her father with hyper-focus, like she was trying to solve a cold case. “Is this… are you glowing???”

Joel huffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s the fridge light, you gremlin.”

“Yeah, sure it is. I can see the fridge door closed behind you,” she clapped back dramatically, grabbing her phone with both hands to move it forward and backward from her face, squinting as she surveyed her father from various angles. “There’s something different about you. It’s her, isn’t it? Your mystery girl from the dog park whose name you won’t tell me?”

Joel propped his phone on the counter and scooped chili into a bowl, keeping his expression carefully neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He fought the smile threatening to curve his lips.

Sarah’s eyes widened. “You’re smiling, you ol’ grump. You never smile when I mention women. You’re totally smitten!”

“How’s Oxford?” Joel tried to change the subject to no avail.

“Full of posh people and damp air. Now back to you. Who knew you were a closet romantic!”

Joel gave his daughter the same flat look he gave Walter when the dog pretended not to understand basic commands. “Get to studying, gremlin.”

Sarah only grinned wider, her eyes full of love seeing her dad so noticeably happy. “Tell her I said hi! What’s her name again?”

Joel sighed. “I ain’t tellin’ you yet. You’d only run an internet search on her and gossip with your asshat uncle about what you find.” Sarah’s cackling laughter was the last thing he heard as he abruptly ended the call. He loved the hell out of that kid but man, was she a handful sometimes.

Taking a bite of the leftover chili at last, Joel looked down at Walter, who was sitting in front of the fridge like a furry moral compass.

“You gonna gang up on me too?”

Walter sneezed in reply and wandered off. Joel remained in the kitchen for a while, bowl of chili in hand, staring out the window as he ate. The last smear of sunset was fading behind the trees, the sky turning a deep blue.

Closet romantic.

Sarah had thrown it out as a joke, but the words stuck in his chest like a nail in soft wood. He wasn’t the ‘flowers and chocolate’ type, at least he never had been. But he’d always believed in the importance of small, quiet things. The little gestures that didn’t need an audience.

Sarah once told him that his love language was acts of service. He didn’t get it at the time, not understanding what the hell a love language was, but now he could see it. He liked doing things for the ones he loved.

He thought of the way your face had lit up when you opened the compass. How you’d run your thumb over its surface like it was something precious. The way you’d said ‘perfect’ so softly, like it came right from the depths of your heart. Then he thought of the grateful smile that graced your lips whenever he brought you coffee at the dog park, like he just made your day with that simple gesture.

Joel set the chili down and leaned his palms on the counter, shoulders hunching forward.

It had been a long damn time since he’d thought about what it meant to make someone feel special. Longer still since he’d actually wanted to.

But now…

He imagined you sitting on that bench at the park, a coffee warming your hands, Penelope curled at your feet. He could show up early, maybe bring something small. Something… thoughtful. Something that said he listened when you talked.

He imagined inviting you over for dinner. Cooking the way he did for Sarah when she’d had a bad day. Simple food but made with care, with meaning. Dare he say, with love? He shook his head, not ready to explore that just yet, and imagined a good playlist humming low in the background. Walter curled up nearby. You’d bring Penelope, of course, and she’d sprawl in a sunspot or in front of the fireplace, Walter no doubt joining her for a cuddle.

Joel huffed quietly at himself. Closet romantic, indeed.

Walter padded into the kitchen, toenails clicking softly against the flooring, and sat at Joel’s feet. The pup looked up expectantly.

“We’ll ask her on a proper date tomorrow. But you keep your mouth shut about this, you hear?” Joel said, bending to scratch behind the beagle’s floppy ears. “Don’t need you tellin’ anyone I’ve gone soft.”

Walter blinked at him, unimpressed, and burped.

“Well, that’s better than your stank ass farts, I guess.”

tbc

Part Six

taglist: @milla-frenchy, @noisynightmarepoetry, @bunnymami13, @lillaydee, @missladym1981, @therewastherewas, @joelmillerpascal, @baronessvonglitter, @ashleyfilm,

Part Four

The clang of hammers and whirr of a power saw echoed through the construction trailer as Joel removed his hard hat and squinted at the latest set of plans. The third set this week. This finicky client was quickly becoming a pain in his ass with the constant changes. Who cares that the guy blew the budget to pieces three weeks ago?

No one but Joel, apparently.

Flopping back with a sigh, Joel ran a thick-fingered hand through his salt and pepper hair. This job was almost more trouble than it was worth. If the money weren’t so good, his crew would have walked off the site months ago. The swing of the trailer door opening drew his attention.

“You see your dog out there?” Tommy stepped through the door, hands on his hips and grinning like an idiot. Pointing through the still-open door, he added, “Out here actin’ like he’s runnin’ payroll and noting OSHA violations.”

Like a furry sentinel, Walter sat on the porch in his construction vest, ‘Safety Officer’ scrawled on the back in black marker. His tail swept the ground in slow, satisfied arcs as he watched the crew with narrowed eyes.

Joel huffed at the sight of his four-legged buddy. “He’s got more sense than half the crew.”

Tommy led the way back outside, squatting down to scratch behind Walter’s ears, which earned him a long yawn and a judgmental blink. “Well, he’s definitely got the resting bitch face down. Must run in the family.”

Joel stepped through the doorway with a snort. “Did you hunt me down just to bust my balls?”

Shrugging with a shit eating grin, Tommy drew out the word, “Perhaps.” The brothers stalked across the job site, Walter falling into a trot behind them. “A little birdie sent me a screenshot last night. Said you might’ve met someone at the dog park.”

Freezing mid-step, Joel’s shoulders stiffened slightly. “Jesus. Sarah tattled? I barely even mentioned anything.”

“Wouldn’t call it tattlin’,” Tommy said, drawing out the word with glee. “More like celebratin’. She said, and I quote: ‘He may have flirted… or panicked. Unclear. He did survive, though.’ She was happy for you, brother.”

Joel groaned, running a hand down his face. “Remind me to block her when I get home.”

Tommy laughed and nudged his shoulder. “Come on, man. This is good. A woman. A real, breathing, adult woman. Not just a barista who smiles at you outta pity.”

Joel shot him a look. That happened one time – ONE time – and Tommy never let it go. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Tommy continued in true annoying little brother fashion, “it’s been a long damn time since you even thought about meetin’ someone. And now you’ve got this whole rugged-single-dad-who-has-his-life-together thing goin’. Women eat that shit up.”

“I don’t have my life together,” Joel scoffed.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You got a business, a house, a daughter in a fancy college, and a dog with a charming little construction vest. That’s basically a dating profile.”

Tommy’s grin was wide enough to annoy the shit out of Joel and he grumbled under his breath, bending to pick up a discarded tape measure. “Even if I wanted to see her again – which I haven’t decided, thank you very much – what the hell do I even say? ‘Hey, you seem nice. Sorry I’m awkward and might’ve stared too long.’”

Tommy crossed his arms, grinning like the smug bastard he was. “You do tend to stare.”

“I wasn’t starin’,” Joel replied with a pout. “I was observin’. Quietly.”

Walter barked once like he agreed, then flopped down on a pile of drop cloths. Joel sighed, watching the beagle settle in for what would undoubtedly be a union-mandated nap.

“Y’know what?” he muttered. “Forget it. We’re goin’ Saturday morning. If she’s there, fine. If not, I’ll throw the ball for Walter, and we’ll go home.”

“Does he even know how to play fetch?” Tommy glanced at Walter doubtfully.

“Beats me. Guess we’ll find out.”

It was nearing quitting time and Joel turned to walk away, Tommy’s boisterous voice flowing over his shoulder. “Hey! Maybe you’ll get sat on this time instead of Walter!”

Joel flipped him the bird without looking back. Fucking asshole.

The early morning sun had just started warming the dew-speckled grass when you settled onto your usual bench near the back fence, large fountain Diet Coke in hand and Penelope at your feet. She watched the open field with extreme focus, tail twitching, ready to bolt at the first sign of a squirrel or bird.

“Good morning!” said Maya, a sassy golden retriever mom with a Starbucks addiction and a collection of leggings louder than her dog’s bark. She leaned against the fence next to where you sat, eyes scanning the parking lot. “Tell us more about this hot, grumpy DILF from the other day.”

“Yes, please! I’ve been dying for the hot goss,” Denise replied. Her black lab mix was already rolling in a mud puddle leftover from the overnight sprinkle. “I heard he had that look. You know the one? All broody and rugged, yet adorably gentle when he talks to his dog. I need to see it for myself. Like, sir, please crush me emotionally and physically.”

You hid a smile by sipping at your soda. The thought of seeing that man again – fuck, how you wished you asked for his name, his number, anything – had your spirits soaring.

Maya turned to you with a raised brow. “You talked to him, right?”

You tried to play it cool, feeling bad about gossiping. “A little. He seemed… nice.”

The other women waited not so patiently for more, and when it didn’t come, they groaned. “Come on, girl! You gotta give us something juicy!”

You hesitated, unsure how deep into this hole you wanted to dig. “He’s got this voice. All gravel and warmth, like if whiskey and honey could talk. You can practically feel it sliding over your skin.”

The women swooned.

“He has a sense of humor, too. He told Ruth to see for herself if his dog was neutered.” You shrugged, cheeks warming as you thought of some of the other things you noticed about him. “He seemed sweet. A little unsure. And the way he and his dog are together? So cute. He talks to him like he’s a grumpy toddler who doesn’t listen.”

Just then, the metal gate creaked open, and a pile of dogs gathered in front of it to greet the latest arrival. You turned, trying not to be obvious as Joel stepped through. Walter followed, decked out in a ridiculous but adorable blue bandana that read Certified Good Boy.

Maya leaned in. “Oh shit, there he is! And he’s lookin’ over here!”

The brooding pinch of his brow twitched as he spotted you, the hard line of his lips melting into a shy half smile.

“Omg, girl. He’s totally staring at you. Go say hi or something!” Denise urged.

You stood, your hand moving in an awkward half wave, which he returned. He made his way over to your bench, looking like he wasn’t sure if he’d be welcomed or devoured by the gaggle of giggling women. Dressed in well-worn jeans and a flannel with the sleeves rolled up, he looked like something straight out of one of your wet dreams.

“Hey,” you greeted with a genuine smile, heart already beating its way up your throat. “You made it.”

He nodded. “Yeah, figured I’d take your advice and try the calm crowd.” Walter sniffed the ground as his dad spoke, snorting at Penelope before he dramatically sat on his foot.

“Hey, buddy. Good to see you, too.” You patted Walter’s head, scratching that perfect spot behind his floppy ears. When you looked up, Denise gave you a look that screamed, “Introduce us now!”

“Oh!” you said quickly, “I never got your name the other day. This is Maya and Denise, their four-legged chaos makers are running around over there.” The ladies preened under his gaze, and you waited until he turned that melted chocolate gaze back to you to give him your name.

“It’s nice to meet y’all,” he replied. “Name’s Joel, and this grumpy guy is Walter.”

“The pleasure’s ours, believe me,” Maya simpered with all the charm of someone already planning a life with a man she just met. You caught the faintest twitch of Joel’s mouth. Not quite a smile, but close, like he was fighting against it.

“Well,” you said, trying to ignore the way your dog park friends ogled Joel, “you picked a good day. No one’s peed on my shoes yet.”

Joel chuckled, his eyes shifting down your form, lingering for a few beats longer than necessary. God, his gaze could melt an iceberg. “Ah, well, the day is young.”

The giggles coming from the others were obnoxious, if you did say so yourself. Before you could think of anything to say, Maya pounced.

“So, Joel,” she said, drawing out his name in a too sweet voice. “Have a seat and tell us about yourself. Are you new in town?”

Despite yourself, you sat on the edge of your seat, as eager as the other women to learn more about this handsome man.

Joel’s dark eyes flashed around the group. “I’m local, actually. Been here a long time, but I’m new to the dog park scene.”

“Ahh,” Denise chimed in, leaning forward eagerly. “Where have you been hiding? Don’t tell me you’re one of those fishin’ all day, drink all night types who talks about nothing but football.”

Joel’s mouth twitched. “More of a construction site before dawn, don’t talk to me until after my third cup of coffee type. Though I don’t mind the occasional fishing trip or football on Sundays.”

You tried not to smile, but Joel’s voice had that deep, gravelly drawl that made sarcasm sound pleasant to the ear. He glanced around the circle of curious women, one brow quirked, clearly clocking the fact that he was outnumbered and under examination.

“Well, your dog’s adorable,” Maya said brightly. “You should bring him around more often. What’s his name again? Wally?”

“Walter,” Joel corrected in a rumbling voice.

“Walter,” Denise repeated as if tasting how it rolled off her tongue. She didn’t want to be outdone by Maya in the over-the-top flirting department. “Very regal. Like he should own a cigar lounge or something.”

You covered your mouth to hide your laugh, but Joel’s glance flicked to you, amused. Remaining silent, you lost yourself in those dark eyes until the shameless flirts interrupted once again.

“So, Joel, what do you do at construction sites before dawn? Besides winning the award for Deepest Voice, of course.” Denise swirled her overpriced metal water bottle, feigning nonchalance while practically salivating over every tiny morsel of detail about him. You briefly wondered if she had a mimosa hidden in there the way she sipped at it.

Your cheeks warmed. That explained why his ‘Scuse me, ma’am’ from the other day sent a chill down your spine and lived rent-free in your mind. That voice was sinfully delicious.

“I run a construction company,” he said, drawing you out of your thoughts. “Residential, mostly, but we’ve done a few smaller commercial gigs as well.”

“Oh, so you’re good with your hands?” Maya immediately interjected.

Jesus Christ, these women were shameless!

Joel offered her a flat look. “I get by.”

“Any pets besides Walter?” Denise asked, undeterred.

“Nope. Just me and him.”

Joel’s replies were becoming more clipped, terse and you could see his discomfort rising. Still, the girls continued.

“Married? Divorced? Widowed?” Maya asked with the casualness of ordering a sandwich instead of conducting an interrogation.

Your eyes went wide. “Maya!”

“What?” she questioned with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We need context about our new friend.”

Fucking vultures.

To his credit, Joel shot you a grateful glance before replying in that calm, gruff voice. “Divorced. Long time ago.”

You caught the flicker of something guarded but not raw in his burnt umber eyes. There was a story there and part of you ached to know it. Before anyone could pry any further, two figures wandered over to rescue him – Chuck and Rico, the self-appointed park dads of the weekend crew.

Chuck, a man nearly as wide as he was tall with a shaved head and Boston accent, gave a low whistle as he came to a stop next to the picnic table. “Whoa, what’s all this? Ladies got you on the interrogation mat, my guy?”

Joel huffed a short chuckle. “Feels more like a job interview, just not quite sure what the role is.”

“My next husband, obviously,” Denise muttered under her breath and you nearly choked on a sip of your soda.

Rico snorted. “Sounds about right. These ladies can be brutal, brother. Which one’s yours?” The younger man’s blue eyes roved over the dogs scattered about.

As if on cue, Walter let out a loud groan and dropped dramatically onto his side, flinging one paw over his face.

“Ahh, that’d be the one, I reckon,” Rico laughed.

“That’s Walter,” you chirped, introducing the men and their dogs. “Chuck’s golden, Boomer, is the park’s designated hugger. He’ll knock you over to get one if you’re not careful. And Rico’s dog Tango will nibble Walter’s ears if he likes them.”

“Ear nibbling? Kinky,” Joel teased with a raised brow and his eyes on you, drawing laughs from the group. You swore the ladies swooned. Who were you kidding, you totally swooned, too, with the way he gazed at you.

“Yup, it’s weirdly affectionate. My other one is the one to worry about though.” Rico pointed across the way where an over-excited ball of energy exploded toward them in a frenzy of fur and tennis ball obsession. The collie mix dropped a ball directly at Joel’s feet, staring up at him with laser focus.

“That’s Chaos and she’s fetch-obsessed,” you said helpfully.

“She’s possessed,” Chuck corrected.

Joel stared down at the ball, visibly cringing at the state of the thing. “Am I supposed to throw that?” You practically melted in your seat when he turned those warm brown eyes on you again, his brows pulled in and up in the cutest expression.

“Unless you want her to start barking at you like you owe her money,” you advised, ignoring the hint of shakiness in your voice.

Joel gave the ball a lazy toss, wiping his hand on his jean-clad thigh as Chaos shot off after it. Walter lifted his head, watched her sprint for a second, then lay back down with the dramatic energy of a man who’d seen too much.

“Smart guy,” Joel muttered to the dog.

Much to your relief, the others had begun drifting into side conversations, giving Joel a break from the unwanted interrogation and letting the two of you slip back into your own quiet bubble of banter. Joel still gave off an air of uncertainty, like he hadn’t quite decided if this place was welcoming or slightly cultish, but at least he hadn’t run screaming yet.

“Glad you came back,” you said gently, your lips naturally forming into an endearing smile when you gazed at him.

Joel met your gaze with a warm half smile gracing his lips, the scruff of his beard glinting in the morning sun. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Sorry about Maya and Denise,” you offered. “They get carried away but are generally harmless. I have a feeling they’re fighting over who gets to ask for your number.”

A chuckle rumbled from his chest, low and deep, causing a pleasant flutter in your belly. “Women like that would eat me alive. Ain’t no way I’m givin’ either of ‘em my phone number.”

“No doubt,” you laughed, unexpectedly pleased that he had no interest in the others. It gave you the courage to ask, “You want to take a lap around the park with me?”

“Sure,” Joel agreed, getting up from his seat to walk beside you. Walter and Penelope fell in step behind you both, trotting together like they were best friends.

“Been awhile since I got outta the house and talked to other people outside of work, my brother, and my daughter.” That deep, rumbling voice softened at the mention of his daughter, pulling at your heart.

“You have a daughter?” you asked, fully invested in learning more about this man.

“Yeah,” he admitted softly. “Sarah. She’s nineteen, going on thirty-five. Smart as a whip. Studyin’ abroad in England this year and I miss the shit outta that girl.”

Your eyes widened, soaking in the subtle changes in his expression as he spoke. “That’s amazing. I always wanted to visit England, London especially.”

Joel nodded, but his smile turned a little bittersweet. “Yeah, it is. I’m proud of her. But… house is too dam quiet and I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s been just the two of us for so long. That’s half the reason I got Walter. Figured he’d bark at squirrels or somethin’ and fill the silence.”

Your heart gave a small, empathetic squeeze. You understood that bone deep loneliness all too well. You glanced at Walter, who was currently squinting into the grass, sniffing at individual blades like he was solving a crime.

“He seems like a great partner in crime,” you said trying to lessen the melancholic turn to the conversation.

Joel smiled faintly, his dark eyes saying more than his words. “He is. Doesn’t talk much, but he’s got strong opinions.”

You both laughed for a moment, your steps slowing to a near stop for no reason.

“I’m sorry you’re missing her,” you offered gently.

Joel tilted his head, a little surprised at your kindness but grateful, nonetheless. “Thanks. I… wasn’t expectin’ that to hit as hard as it did.”

You nodded, your hand aching to reach for him in comfort. “I kind of get that. I lost my job last month. Whole department got restructured. I’ve been in this weird limbo ever since – like I forgot how to function without a job.”

Joel looked over at you, something in his expression shifting. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m lucky in a lot of ways, but still… I don’t know. I’ve been a little lost lately.”

Joel cleared his throat, seeming a little unsure about what to say next. You let the moment rest between you until he finally spoke again.

“I, uh… was wonderin’. Would you maybe want to grab coffee sometime? Just us. No dogs. Or, I mean, with the dogs, if you’d like. I’d just like to see you again, away from the dog park.” He brushed a hand along the back of his neck, clearly anxious as his cheeks pinkened.

Gah, the man was utterly endearing.

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’d like that. A lot.”

Joel let out a quiet exhale, like he’d been holding his breath without realizing. “Cool,” he said, head bobbing in a nod as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Cool.”

Penelope barked once as if in approval and Walter gave a gruff huff of agreement.

“Well,” you said with a laugh, “looks like it’s a unanimous vote.”

That evening, Joel stretched out on the couch, bare feet propped on the coffee table, a worn blanket knitted by his grandmother when he was a child spread across his lap to take the edge off the crisp breeze blowing through the open windows. Walter was curled up next to him, his personal furry space heater, snoring with each rise and fall of his barrel chest. The house – the entire neighborhood – was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and occasional pops and snaps of the fresh cut wood in the fireplace.

He hadn’t even bothered turning on the television, instead enjoying the silence for the first time in his life.

Joel’s phone buzzed on the side table as he took a sip of the decadent amber liquid from the aged glass in his hand. The liquid burned down his throat in that old familiar way as he checked the phone.

Sarah: So… did you see her again???

He shook his head with a quiet chuckle and typed out a reply with his oversized thumbs.

Joel: Yeah. We walked a lap at the park. Talked. I met some of her dog park friends.

Sarah: Dad! DID YOU ASK HER OUT OR JUST STARE AT HER SHOES AGAIN???

Joel: Asked her out for coffee. She said yes. Smiled even.

Sarah: Fucking brilliant! I’m so proud. My dear old dad, flirting in the wild. I should have made you a Tinder profile before I left.

Joel groaned, rolling his eyes so hard it nearly gave him a headache.

Joel: Imma wash your mouth out with soap when I see you.

Sarah: You’re adorable, old man. Did you brush your hair? Wear clean jeans? Use your manners? Did Walter wear his vest?

Joel glanced down at his couch buddy who was still snoozing. Walter’s vest had been tossed on a hook by the door, slightly grass stained and dusty. He needed to wash that thing, come to think of it.

Joel: Walter was the real star, as always. No vest, but he wore a bandana. I just tried not to say anything stupid.

Sarah: Low bar. But I’m genuinely proud of you Dad. For real. You’re a good bloke and it’s time people notice.

Joel stared at the message a few seconds longer than he meant to, his heart fit to burst from his chest with all the love he held for this kid.

Joel: Thanks Babygirl. That means a lot.

Sarah: So what’s her name?? Are you gonna tell me or do I have to fly home and interrogate Walter?

Joel snorted loudly, disturbing Walter’s well-deserved snooze fest, and earned himself a death stare from the grumpy pup.

Joel: All in due time, kid. I don’t want to scare her off yet with bad juju.

Sarah: I don’t know if that makes you a coward or a very smart man. Love you to pieces, old man.

Joel: Back atcha Babygirl. Get to bed, it’s late over there.

He smiled down at the phone, chuckling at the mean-faced emoji Sarah sent before setting it facedown on the armrest. Walter snuffled and stretched, kicking Joel before allowing one paw to flop over his knee.

“You and me, bud,” Joel murmured, rubbing behind the beagle’s ears. “Guess we’ve got a date.”

Walter let out a sleepy groan and farted in response.

Joel grimaced, waving a hand in front of his face to disperse the stink. “Right. I’ll handle the conversation. You just look cute.”

tbc

Part Five

The clang of hammers and whirr of a power saw echoed through the construction trailer as Joel removed his hard hat and squinted at the latest set of plans. The third set this week. This finicky client was quickly becoming a pain in his ass with the constant changes. Who cares that the guy blew the budget to pieces three weeks ago? No one but Joel, apparently. Flopping back with a sigh, Joel ran a thick-fingered hand through his salt and pepper hair. This job was almost more trouble than it was worth. If the money weren’t so good, his crew would have walked off the site months ago. The swing of the trailer door opening drew his attention. “You see your dog out there?” Tommy stepped through the door, hands on his hips and grinning like an idiot. Pointing through the still-open door, he added, “Out here actin’ like he’s runnin’ payroll and noting OSHA violations.” Like a furry sentinel, Walter sat on the porch in his construction vest, ‘Safety Officer’ scrawled on the back in black marker. His tail swept the ground in slow, satisfied arcs as he watched the crew with narrowed eyes. Joel huffed at the sight of his four-legged buddy. “He’s got more sense than half the crew.” Tommy led the way back outside, squatting down to scratch behind Walter’s ears, which earned him a long yawn and a judgmental blink. “Well, he’s definitely got the resting bitch face down. Must run in the family.” Joel stepped through the doorway with a snort. “Did you hunt me down just to bust my balls?”