If the Stick Turns Pink... by Carla Cassidy

don’t lift anything heavy, otherwise Mom will have my head on a platter.”
    Henry grinned. “You’ve got that right.”
    It took the men about half an hour to get everything into the house and to the spare bedroom. Then they joined Mellie and Luella at the table for a cup of coffee.
    As always Bailey fought a big dose of irritation as he listened to his parents disagree on everything from whether it was supposed to rain the next day to what kind of dog made the best pet.
    He’d listened to the two of them for most of his life and had been appalled to discover Stephanie and him falling into the same pattern. They’d bickered about mealtimes, they’d argued about bedtime. Anything and everything became a point of contention. By the time she’d left, it had been almost a relief.
    And that’s why he’d sworn he would never, ever marry again. He refused to live his life as his parents had, so obviously miserable with each other.
    His parents remained for about an hour, then left. He and Mellie ate ham sandwiches, then he headed back to the barn to work, leaving Mellie in charge of organizing the wedding gifts.
    He worked in the barn until dinner time then ensured that all the pups were doing okay, and with his paperwork caught up, he headed back to the house.
    Throughout the afternoon while he’d worked, he’d found himself playing and replaying in his head the conversation he and Mellie had been having just before his parents arrived.
    He’d wanted…no, needed to make it clear to her that although he had been her first lover, he had no intention of being her last.
    But, he hadn’t been able to help being irritated by the fact that she’d said he would never be the kind of husband she wanted.
    The conversation was still on his mind when he entered the house and smelled the luscious scent of Italian sauce. “Hmm, it smells great in here,” he said as he closed the front door behind him.
    â€œThat’s supper you smell.”
    Bailey followed her voice into the kitchen. As he stepped over the child gate, Squirt came racing toward him, his back end wiggling at a hundred miles an hour. He bent down and scratched the pup behind his ear.
    Mellie turned from the stove, her cheeks flushed becomingly from the heat of her cooking. “You’re just in time. By the time you wash up, I’ll have it on the table.”
    â€œGreat, I’m starving.”
    As Bailey washed his hands in the kitchen sink, Mellie scurried around to put the meal on the table. A few minutes later they were seated across from each other, helping themselves to the spaghetti and meatballs and salad she’d prepared.
    â€œAll the pups doing okay?” she asked.
    â€œYeah, they seem to be holding their own. In another week or two I need to put some posters up offering them to good homes.”
    â€œWhat’s your schedule like for tomorrow?”
    â€œI’ve got a couple of appointments in the morning,” Bailey said. “Then, in the afternoon, I need to drive out to Jess Manning’s place. He’s got a calf that isn’t doing very well and he wants me to take a look at it. Why? You have something in mind?”
    â€œI figured I’d help you out in the morning, then head into town. I need to pick up some thank-you notes and get started on them, and after that I was going to unload some of the boxes I brought over from my apartment.” She paused to swipe a dollop of sauce from her mouth, then continued. “Bailey, you won’t believe some of the nice things people bought for us. Too bad we can’t use them for the duration of our marriage, but of course we can’t. It won’t be long and we’ll be returning them all.”
    â€œAnd everyone will think we’re total failures,” Bailey replied. His sentence was punctuated by a tiny bark from Squirt, who had been dancing under the table as if waiting for a morsel of