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Tits up, you spicy little burrito. You’ve got this. Take the problem by the balls and yank.
Caitlin
You’ve got to stop with the Instagram reels. They’re warping your brain.
Bellamy
Whatever. You like them too. They’re funny.
Apologize to him, Cait. Let me know how it goes.
Caitlin
Tell Momma Wilder I said hi when you get to Maine tomorrow.
I shove my phone into my shorts pocket and look around at my mess.
Maybe rage cleaning would have been more effective.
Meatball pops his head up from where he’s been sleeping next to me for the past hour and stares at the door before I hear someone fumbling with the key, followed by a distinctly Callen curse. I guess it’s time to face the music.
I wait another minute, but unease washes over me when there’s still no Callen.
“Come on, Meatball.” I shove his chubby body off me and watch as he stretches into downward dog and slides off the couch in slow-motion, then trots over to the door where Cupcake is two steps ahead of him, already whimpering.
What the hell?
With my hand on the doorknob, I check the peephole, but there’s no one there.
Huh... Maybe he changed his mind and decided not to come home.
Great. I guess I screwed up so bad he doesn’t want to be alone with me.
Cupcake scratches at the door and whines, and Meatball sits his fat ass on my feet.
The needy little fucker is always like this whenever Maddox is gone.
“He’s not here,” I tell the dogs and try to kick Meatball off, but he’s a legit sixty-pound lump, and if he doesn’t want to move, he’s not moving. “Okay. Fine. I’ll check,” I growl, then roll my damn eyes because I am, in fact, arguing with a dog.
I crack the door, and it pushes all the way open as Callen’s big body falls backward into the foyer. “What the hell?”
Callen opens his glassy green eyes as he lies flat on the floor, confusion dancing in his dazed eyes. “Hey, kitten. What are you doing up there?”
“What the hell, Callen? Are you drunk?”
Meatball licks his face, and Callen licks him back.
Oh. My. God.
He lifts his hand and pinches his fingers together like he’s trying to show me an inch, but in reality his thumb and pointer are smooshed together. “Just a little bit. Wanna help me up?”
I look him over, trying to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to get him up before I grab his hand. This is never gonna work. “Come on, you big oaf. Let’s get you up.”
I tug, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he smiles a sloppy smile. “You know it would only take one pull, right?”
I kick his butt. Not hard. Even I’m not that mean,but seriously... what the hell?
“I just tried to pull, Sinclair. Your fat ass didn’t budge.” I yank my hand away, but he doesn’t let go.
