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Even now as she snored not-so-softly beside me, with her mouth hanging open and drool coming out the side, I thought it was damn near the cutest thing I’d ever seen.
When we pulled up to the house I sat outside for a minute. Billy had lived in this house for eight years as a single man. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d been here. I’d lived here when I got out before I bought my cottage. But now things were different. This wasn’t Billy’s house. He’d given it to Cheyenne. Now instead of it feeling like my second home, it felt like I shouldn’t be here.
And I hadn’t, not since Billy moved out. But I still had a spare key.
I went up and opened the front door before going back to get Cheyenne.
I’d get her settled in bed, make sure she had water and maybe some toast beside her, and then I was out of there.
When I unhooked her seatbelt, Cheyenne started to stir in the seat. I’d hoped that she’d stay asleep, but it looked like that wasn’t going to be the case.
Her eyes fluttered open and a wide smile spread on her face as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “I love you.”
My brain knew that she was drunk and that was why she’d made that declaration. My heart wasn’t quite as convinced. Hearing her say those three little words, even if she’d only uttered them because she was inebriated had it pounding wildly.
“Let’s get you inside.”
“Yes.” She nodded in agreement. “Inside. So we can talk. I need to talk to you because my deadline is almost up. The clock is tick, tick, ticking.”
Thank God. Now that she was back to talking nonsense it was easier for me to remember that anything she said was not to be taken seriously.
As I cradled her and walked up the front steps, I tried to ignore the way she felt like she fit perfectly in my arms. It was as if she was where she’d always belonged.
When I stepped inside the house, she sighed longingly, “Aww, you carried me over the threshold. I’m your wife now.”
My wife.
I’d always wanted to get married and have a family. Not just any family, but a happy family. I wanted to have a house filled with kids, laughter, and good times.
I wanted what I’d never had. I wasn’t sure why my parents had only had me and no other kids. I remember my mom talking about how she’d always wanted to have three, but that never happened. My childhood wasn’t all bad, the times that my dad was gone on sales trips, or when things were going well for him in his job and he was in a good mood, things were great. But those times were few and far between.
With my shoulder, I shut the door behind me. I was halfway up the stairs when I felt something furry around my ankles. I looked down and saw that there was not one cat, not two, but three going up the stairs with us.
“You got another cat?” I’d known about two of her rescues, Marshmallow who was a large, white Persian, and Twinkie who was a tiny tabby with only one eye. But a calico who appeared to only have three legs had joined the group.
“I found him yesterday behind the dumpster at the Dreamy Bean and brought him home.”
Of course, she did. Over the year that she’d been back in Firefly she’d rescued and fostered two dogs, three chickens, and eight, no make it nine cats. There’d also been a lizard, a bird, and a turtle. She nursed the animals back to health and then found them good homes. Or if she couldn’t, she kept them. Which had been the case with Marshmallow and Twinkie.
I’d told her many times that if her dream wasn’t to open a center for kids, she should start a rescue. She was basically doing it already.
When we reached the top of the stairs and entered the master bedroom she wiggled her feet and one of her shoes fell off next to the closet. “Ooh, are you taking me to bed? That’s good because I think my first time should be in a bed.” She lifted her hand and touched my nose. “Don’t you?”
“Sure.” I’d found that it was easier to agree with drunks when they asked questions, even if you had no idea what they were talking about.
As I carried Cheyenne to the bed the cats wasted no time jumping up on the massive four-tier cat tree that sat on the far side of the room. The kitty hotel wasn’t the only change that Cheyenne had made. She’d added a dresser and nightstands, a large free-standing antique mirror, and a chair in the corner. It looked nothing like the room had when Billy had lived there.
Which was good.
I bent over and gently laid her down on her bed. Before I even straightened up, she was wiggling and pulling at the material of her dress and kicking her legs. Her motion caused her other heel to fly into the air. I had to duck so it didn’t hit my head, before it landed with a thunk on the nightstand.
“Cheyenne, stop.” She was squirming and kicking, and I was scared that she was going to hurt herself. Or me.
“I can’t lose my virginity if I’m wearing this.”
Her virginity?
Is that what she was talking about when she’d said that her first time should be in a bed?
