Before she settled down, she let Wiley out the kitchen door to the fenced-in yard so he could have his final outdoor break for the night. She peeled off her clothes, taking one last sniff before she tossed them in the laundry basket. It was a mix of smoke and lavender fields. She smiled, thinking about her makeover in the ladies’ room. God bless Chi-Chi. She wrapped Chi-Chi’s skillful braid around her head, covered it with a towel, and jumped into the shower. Satisfied she had managed to wash the dust and air freshener off her, she pulled on her favorite terrycloth robe, then padded to the kitchen to let Wiley back in. She made a cup of hot chocolate, tucked the book under her arm, and headed to her bedroom, Wiley at her heels.

She thumbed through the well-worn pages, reading the notes she had scribbled in the margins. A sense of elation came over her. She might not skyrocket into the astral plane, but she was going to set her mind on dreaming about Marshal Gaines.

* * *

The next morning, Luna awoke refreshed and buoyant. She always kept a pad and pen next to her bed in case she had a dream she thought worth remembering and dissecting. In her dream, she was at Cullen’s house with Chris Gaines. Cullen was showing Chris his new fly-fishing equipment. That was a given since they had discussed it over dinner. She hadn’t seen any of Cullen’s new gear yet, but in her dream, she watched Cullen show Gaines a spindly thing with orange and red spikes. The words “casaba melons” came to mind, so she wrote them down.

She bounced out of bed, and Wiley did the same. The two raced to the kitchen, Wiley yapping with excitement. His squirrel buddies were trying to get into the bird feeder again. It was their morning ritual. Squirrels, Wiley, and coffee.

Luna switched on the TV to see if anything had blown up while she was asleep. Just another politician hawking the latest book on “enough already.” A few minutes later, Wiley was scratching at the door for his breakfast. Luna let him in while she was still clicking the remote when she came across a cooking show. Then it hit her. She would invite Gaines over for dinner the next time he was in town. Why hadn’t she thought of that sooner? For someone with a good brain and instincts, hers did not seem to work on matters of the heart. Her heart. She shook her head. “What do you think of that idea, Wiley? Invite the marshal for dinner?” He woofed again. “Right, pal. If that doesn’t start a fire between us, then I’m giving up!” Wiley made a grumbling sound before lying prone and pulling his paws over his eyes.