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“Birdie?”
“He took Birdie to the Inn in town and I imagine they won’t be coming up for air for at least a day or two. She’s better than fine and Gareth will take good care of her. You want pizza?” He lifts the lid on the pizza box again. “Or Chinese? Oh, Chinese sounds good. You like Chinese?”
“Chinese is good. I like Chinese.”
“Great. I’m going to call it in and grab a quick shower if you don’t mind.”
“I should…um, I should go home.”
He shakes his head no. “The Inn doesn’t allow dogs and Brownie and your mom aren’t friends, remember. You’re stuck with me for a couple of days, babe.” He heads for the back and mumbles as he goes, “All I want is food and sleep. Food, sleep, and a hot shower.”
Those things sound good to me too. So I guess I’m staying with Waylen for the next few days. While Birdie makes mad love to her hot cop. Yeah, I’m being left behind in the whole game of life. But at least there’s takeout along the way.
Chapter Four
____________
Waylen
We eat in the living room. I let her pick the movie and she chose a buddy comedy. I can live with that. We both drift off during the second movie about a space opera or something like that. Not on each other the way I want to but still with each other. I’ll take it.
I wake up sometime in the early morning hours to whimpering. Considering I was dreaming of my little redhead I naturally thought it was her at first and woke with a start, ready to protect and defend my woman to the death. But it’s not my redhead that is doing the whimpering and now that I’m awake it’s really more of a whine than a whimper. It’s the fuzzy little blonde pug that seems to be having issues. And listening for just a minute I can understand why. Brownie must be afraid of storms because outside it is thundering and lightening like crazy.
I drag myself up and look at the woman curled on the other side of the sectional. Her hair is fanned out on the pillow she’s put under her head and she’s asleep on her stomach with her hands crossed beneath her. She’s in an oversized shirt and a pair of boxers - nothing sexy at all. But she might as well be in see-thru lingerie as much as I’m eye fucking her.
My fingers itch to run through the locks of her hair and the purple-dyed ends just make me want her more. She’s like a real-life fairy and I just want to capture her and keep her safe forever. The only thing that keeps me from actually touching her is the look of peace on her face. It still doesn’t stop me from wanting. With Brook, it’s like I can feel every breath she takes because when she exhales I inhale.
The sound of a high, soft little whine has me looking back down at the little pup at my feet. I scoop him up and take him over to the couch where Brook is lying. “Come on, little man. Let’s put you and Aunt Brook to bed so the two of you can cuddle each other.”
Under my breath, I end the sentence with the thought, “Lucky bastard.”
I roll Brook over and place the puppy on her stomach before scooping both of them up in my arms and walking to the bedroom. My bedroom. She’s staying in my bedroom. In my bed. And I’m going to have to put her down, back up, and walk away. It’s going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I gently lay her down and step back so I can take another look at my little star. She reminds me a lot of Lucy from I Love Lucy. I had a huge crush on her as a little boy and watched reruns with my mom. I even told her I was going to grow up to marry the redhead when I was older. I had no idea at the time she was old enough to be my grandmother. I just saw the star on TV and understood that was what I wanted. That spunk and adventure she had, the sense of fun that came with all her antics, and just a hint of trouble. Yeah, I’m not ashamed to admit it did it for me. And now I have the embodiment of that wish in my bed and I have to turn around and leave it. Sometimes…life just isn’t fair.
I go back to the couch, flop down, and turn on reruns of the show that’s been floating through my mind since I laid eyes on the tiny wonder. The series brings back happy memories of sitting close to my mom and laughing with her. She had the best laugh in the world. She’s been gone for a while now and I still miss her. Little things like catching a rerun on TV will take me back and make me miss her all over again. Cancer is a fucker.
I turn my mind not to the bad times at the end of my mom’s life but to the happy ones and all the lessons she imparted to me with a hint of humor and so much love even cancer couldn’t kill it. I must drift off because when I open my eyes again it’s to find my own version of Lucy hovering above me and giving me a tilted little smile that lights up her eyes. The weight on my chest reminds me that Brownie came to find me last night and took up residence there while we sat and watched television together.
Maybe I should get a dog. Having Brownie around has made me realize it wouldn’t be such an awful idea to have a little puppy hanging around. She realizes my eyes are open and the smile melts off her face. Her eyes narrow and she turns into the spicy version of herself I am just as drawn to.
“Morning, sunshine. You want me to make breakfast, or do you want to make it?”
“With what? The Styrofoam containers you keep in your fridge?”
“Shit.” I should have stocked the house for her but I’m not home enough to actually keep a lot of things in my fridge since they would mostly go to waste anyway. “You want to order breakfast or do you want me to order for us?”
She straightens and actually gives me a laugh. It means more coming from her because I had to work to earn it.
“I think I can spring for breakfast since you are letting me stay in your house with a pup who may or may not have taken an alleged crap in your hallway sometime overnight. Seems only fair.”
We end up ordering breakfast from the diner down the road and I leave to go pick it up. A good thing since I wasn’t about to let her pay for breakfast, no matter how much she thinks she might owe me. When I come home it’s to find Brook in the backyard playing with Brownie. Yeah, I need to get a dog. The smile on her face tells me having a pup is a must. When she sees me, she scoops Brownie up and cuddles him close to her chest before coming in. And the sentiment I had last night comes back to float through my mind.
Lucky bastard.
Breakfast gets interrupted by a phone call from Birdie that has my little Lucy up and running, nearly knocking the chair over, to get to it. I want that kind of devotion and love. I want my call to be the one she jumps up to grab because she just has to find out if I’m alright and maybe just to hear my voice too.
Great! Now I’m jealous of Birdie. I got jealous of Gareth, then Brownie, and now Birdie. This woman has me all tangled up in knots and my emotions running on pure instinct -to claim and make her mine, to keep her forever, and to care for her so good she never wants to leave. I have to cool it. But even as I think about it, I still listen in to the conversation she’s having with her friend to see if I can pick up any good useful information I can use to help me get her to fall in love with me.
