“Stuff for us for the next few days,” she answers as I drop the bags in the trunk of my SUV. She keeps her purse with her. When I look back up at her, she’s playing with a loose thread on the smaller dog’s leash. “If the offer to use the cabin still stands, obviously.”

“O-of course,” I stutter like an idiot. Then, I look down at the two hyperactive dogs on the ground, and a light turns on in my head. “Are these your babies?”

She bobs her head, a small but obviously happy smile coloring her lips. The tightness in my chest is gone with my next breath, though I’m not sure why.

She continues looking at me, not moving as the big dog walks forward to lick my hand, large snout damp. I wait for a moment, but when I realize she’s not going back to her apartment, I ask, “Are the babies coming with us?”

That gets her grin to grow a little. “The babies can’t stay alone while I’m there.”

I don’t know if Ma and Dad accept dogs in the cabin, but what am I going to tell that usually stoic woman who just smiled while talking about her dogs? No, they can’t come? Fuck that.

“All right, hop in, guys,” I tell the two pups as I open the back door of the car.

“It’s girls,” Wren tells me as she gets the dogs inside, going as far as buckling them with their own little belts she pulled out from God knows where.

“Pardon?”

She throws me a look over her shoulder. “Molly’s the big one. Maybelle’s the small one. They’re girls.”

I fight hard to keep my amusement in check. She’s cute when she talks about them. Wren comes off as someone who’s got her shit together, which makes her appear older than she actually is. But now, she looks her age.

“Girls. My sincerest apologies.”

“They forgive you,” she says, a hint of humor in her voice as she goes to sit in the passenger seat.

Before closing the door of the backseat, I steal a glance at the two dogs, who look much calmer now that they’re inside, then at the figure who’s turned around to look at them. I shake my head, then head to the driver’s seat, allowing myself a little incredulous chuckle. That’s quite literally the last thing I was expecting coming here this morning.

I can’t say I’m disappointed.

* * *

“I think that’s the last of it,” I say as I hoist one of Wren’s bags out of the trunk. Jesus, what did she put in here? Her entire house?

As I swing it over my shoulder, a book falls out. No wonder it’s so heavy, if she’s carrying books in it.