Free Just One Taste by Maggie Robinson

IRS. A bunch of other stuff, but Rocky protects me.” Will winked at Alexandra.
    “Does he bite?”
    “Nope. Do you want to come over and pet him? I’ll make sure he behaves.” Will dropped to the grass and put an arm around the dog. Rocky’s tail was wagging like crazy, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth in a deranged doggy smile.
    Emma and Alexandra walked slowly over to where they sat. Alexandra went first, smoothing back the velvet fur over Rocky’s eyes. “He likes to have his ears scratched,” she said to Emma.
    After some hesitation, Emma reached out. Rocky licked the little hand and Emma giggled. “He tickles!”
    “Tickle him back. You can rub his tummy too.”
    Alexandra met Will’s eyes over her daughter’s blond head and Rocky’s black and white one. It was going to be…right. The three of them, and Rocky, were going to make this work.
    “I have something to ask you,” she said.
    “That’s funny. I have something to ask you too,” Will replied. “And I’ve got something in my pocket you might like. But first, what’s this I hear about sandwiches? Rocky loves sandwiches.”

Epilogue
    A year and a half later
----
    C hristmas dinner with the in-laws. It hadn’t been so bad. Dr. Elliot was on a new drug that seemed to be working better for him, and Mrs. Elliot—Will really couldn’t call her Elizabeth even after she asked—was thawing despite the temperature outside. He and Emma had chopped down a tree from his field and brought it over to the Elliots’ house last week, and after Emma had decorated all the places she could reach and he took care of the high spots, it was looking pretty good. A little frou-frou for his taste. A designer tree. There were a lot of breakable gold and silver balls instead of the child and dog-friendly homespun ornaments that Alex put on their own tree in the front parlor of the farmhouse.
    There was a couch there now. Actually, two. And a plaid wing chair that was practically as comfortable as a recliner, or so he told himself. The recliner would come once he got around to finishing his man-cave in the basement. They still ate in the kitchen with the chickens since Alex hadn’t found a dining room table she liked enough. It had to be big for when all his family came over, she said, and Will was making one secretly in Jimmy’s garage.
    It was supposed to have been finished by now, but it wasn’t. He and his crew had been busy with three big remodeling jobs this fall. He had a buyer for a custom house to be built this spring on his lot on Scotland Road, and with any luck he’d have to turn work away or hire more guys.
    And Alex? Well, Alex was busy, too. She’d turned the enclosed back porch into her office once Will plumbed it for heat. Clients could come and sit in the wicker chairs with a pot of tea while Alex made their lives over one distinctive button at a time.
    Will knew what a statement piece was now. He was evolving.
    She was standing over her mother’s sink now washing glasses that couldn’t be put in the dishwasher.
    “Hey, babe.” Will kissed the back of her neck.
    “Don’t make me drop this glass. It’s Waterford.”
    “I take it you can’t find a replacement at Target. Here, sit down. Let me finish.”
    “I’m all right.”
    “What you are is stubborn.” Seven months pregnant, and she just wouldn’t stop. She was like the Energizer Bunny on speed, still swinging by the Lassiter stations every couple of weeks and working with an ever-increasing private client list. She had a popular shopping column and blog at the Hartford Courant , too—Clothes Encounters, named for her company. And to think, Will had once thought she was a little crazy. He grabbed the glass from her hand.
    “Be careful!”
    “Trust me. I’m generally very dependable.”
    She put a sudsy hand on his cheek and looked up at him. “And pretty hot. I love you.”
    She did, too. And Emma seemed to be happy that he was her stepdad. Life was good, even if the