Free Twice in a Blue Moon by Laura Drake Page A

her yoga mat, paying for neglecting her morning routine. The Firefly Pose, one of her favorites, was now beyond her.
    Barney just watched, head on his thick paws.
    She untangled her arms and legs to lay with her head on her hands, two inches from his nose. “That’s it, Barn. Starting today, we’re back on our workouts.”
    He licked her face.
    She swiped her cheek then sat up. “Yeah, I know you like them.” Why shouldn’t he? She’d logged a ton of miles jogging the Hollywood hills, hauling him behind her in a wagon. “Lucky for you, I found a wheelbarrow in the junk from what will be my yoga room. I actually think it’ll work better than our wagon. We’ll try it out tomorrow.” She pushed herself to her feet. “We’ll get weird looks, but we’re used to that, right?” That was saying something. She’d been considered odd in Hollywood, where eccentricity was an art form.
    She padded to the kitchen to make a latte. Luckily, her espresso maker had been a Christmas gift from Harry, so the Wicked Witch couldn’t claim it. Starting today, it would be the only indulgence she allowed herself. She closed her eyes as the milk began to steam, the sound propelling her back to the mornings when she’d make two. She and Harry would drink them while they traded sections of the paper in bed. Her dream ended with a last hiss and sputter.
    The coming sun was only an aura on the horizon. As she stepped barefoot onto the wood boards of the porch, the crisp air hit her exposed skin and damp leotard. Shivering, she set the cup on a small wood table and scooted back inside to grab a sweater. Barney trotted ahead on the return trip, then down the stairs to examine the vines that began ten feet from the porch. She settled in the Adirondack chair, pulled her legs up, wrapped the bulky sweater around her knees and took a deep breath of dirt and early morning air.
    It doesn’t get any better than this.
    She sipped her coffee, and hope rose with the progress of the sun. Doubtless the day would bring more worries to pile on the old. But right now—in this moment—her jumble of emotions bowed before the perfect day. The home that Bob built at her back, Harry’s sweater wrapped around her and the view of the grapevines they’d all loved sent tendrils of peace spreading through her core, unfurling in her dark, empty places. She savored it, trying to trap the feeling inside for later, when she’d need it.
    Maybe it would all work out; she just needed to give it time to—
    â€œHoly shitballs!” Danovan popped from behind a grapevine four rows in to her left.
    â€œJesus, dog!”
    * * *
    W HEN SHE RECOVERED from surprise, she called, “Barney, come!” The thump of big feet came closer and, ears flapping, her laughing dog barreled around the last row, vaulted the steps and skidded behind her chair. “What happened?”
    Danovan strode to the end of the row, annoyance plain on his face. “Damned dog stuck his cold nose in my crack!”
    She couldn’t help it. Hiding her face in a fistful of sweater, she giggled. “Shitballs? Really?”
    His face turned a shell pink that matched the last tint of sunrise at the horizon. “Sorry.”
    After a final indelicate snort, she forced herself to stop. “Thanks for the laugh. Feels like I haven’t done that in forever.”
    Today he wore a blue jacket and his jeans were dark below the knee, stained with dew. He stopped at the rail of the porch and leaned on it. “Can’t you keep that mutt on a leash?”
    â€œAw, Barney was just being friendly.”
    â€œWell, he and I don’t know each other well enough to be on butt-sniffing terms.” And from his tone, they never would be.
    â€œYou don’t like dogs?”
    â€œNot particularly.”
    How could you trust a man who didn’t like dogs? “Whyever not?”
    â€œThey’re