Roommates Box Set #4-6

17. Alyssa

17

ALYSSA

Puppies.

Soooo many puppies.

Puppies everywhere.

Soft, furry, sleepy, clumsy, adorable puppies.

They were on my cast. In my lap. And in my arms. Charlotte had one cuddled to her face. And they moved around so much, it seemed like twenty instead of just seven. The twins, somehow, were as good as sheep dogs. They turned the little dogs back when they got too close to the edge of the bed. They kept the dear little things right next to me.

I couldn’t remember having a better afternoon—ever.

“I see you’ve made some friends,” Raphael said when he came down after hearing the noise.

“Lots of friends.” I couldn’t help grinning.

“And where is our friendly neighborhood veterinarian?”

“He said he’d come back in an hour.”

“And did he agree to help wash the bedding after that?”

Oops, I hadn’t thought of that. Obviously puppies this age weren’t house trained. My mouth opened, but I didn’t exactly know what to say about that. It wasn’t like I could strip the bed by myself.

But Raphael smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Enjoy the floof onslaught.”

After that, he checked in occasionally while he worked on dinner, but I was in good company. Three of the puppies had decided to take a nap and had curled up against my cast. That kept me from moving my leg just as effectively as Raphael putting the quilt over it yesterday.

Lucas was lying next to me, making faces at the puppy he had on his chest. I had another in my arms, and Charlotte was sitting up with her legs crossed and two little dogs in her lap.

When Spencer came home, Lucas called out to him. Repeatedly. He was like a tiny jackhammer as he said, “Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad!”

Spencer smiled as he took in the scene. “Did I miss the part where we opened an animal shelter in Alyssa’s room? That looks like a hundred puppies.” He came in and kissed the heads with the light brown hair and patted the blond ones. Well, the blond ones that belonged to dogs.

“Look at these two,” Charlotte gushed. “I call them Sophie and Andrew.”

“Remember, they’re just on loan,” Spencer cautioned. Someone, probably Raphael, had obviously filled him in on the situation before he got here.

He left after that, but like Raphael, he seemed to find a lot of excuses to poke his head into the room for every so often.

By the time Flynn returned, I was tired but completely content. Those marketers who’d said that down comforters were the softest thing you could have on your bed had no idea what a basketful of soft, squirming puppies was like. Except they weren’t squirming now. Most were napping when Flynn loaded them back into the basket.

He’d cleaned up since the other day. His jawline was freshly shaved, and his short hair looked like it had been trimmed. He had on a t-shirt that was stretched tight over his muscles and black jeans.

“Are you staying for super, Uncle Flynn?” Lucas asked. Then his gaze flickered to the doorway where Spencer now stood.

“I’ve got to get these bad boys back to the clinic and their parents,” Flynn said gruffly. His gaze, too, went briefly to his brother before returning to the twins. “But maybe another time.”

“Sounds good,” Charlotte said, beaming.

And after he’d left with the whimpering, quivering laundry basket in his strong arms, I softly repeated what the little girl had just said. “Sounds good.”

I felt guilty that evening when Raphael and Spencer had to wash all my bedding, but every time I remembered how good it felt to stroke the puppies’ soft fur, I couldn’t help but smile.

They finally got the bed put back together while the twins and I were finishing up story time on the couch. But it wasn’t just story time anymore. We spent half our time together reading and half with the sketchpad, where the twins would think up fantastic details for our dream treehouse, and I’d add them to the floor plan or a growing series of sketches. The treehouse now had more rooms than Buckingham Palace, but it was fun to daydream about.

You’d think, after a fun day full of puppies, story time, and treehouse planning, it would be easy to fall asleep—but that wasn’t the case.

Lately, I’d been having more and more difficulty falling asleep. It wasn’t really hard to understand why. During the day, I wasn’t able to move around much. Yes, I did the physical therapy exercises, but that wasn’t the same as being able to take a brisk walk. At first, I’d been on more meds, and those had made me drowsy, but now I didn’t usually need anything stronger than a normal painkiller.

There was nothing more frustrating than lying awake in bed at night when you couldn’t even switch positions and toss and turn like a normal person. I hated sleeping on my back. I’d never liked it before, but now I loathed it. It was even more uncomfortable when I was trying to fall asleep.

In desperation, I scrolled through various sites on my phone, focusing on the ones that were designed to suck you in and keep you from leaving. But it got boring pretty quickly. It was after one, and I just couldn’t get to sleep. It was a shame, too, for more than the obvious reasons.

Lately, the majority of my dreams had been sexy and erotic. Oddly enough, they always featured dark-haired men with brown or green eyes. The dreams faded quickly when I woke, but the aftereffects lingered. Afterwards, I felt more aware of my body, and caught myself grinning a lot.

A cough came from the living room. Then I heard the sound of cushions shifting and bare feet padding toward the kitchen. Mentally, I visualized Raphael’s progress as he opened the fridge and poured himself a glass of water—at least I thought it was water. Then he set the glass down on the counter and walked back.

When I judged he was passing the hallway to the bedrooms, I called his name in a loud whisper.

The footsteps froze, and I called him again.

I couldn’t see very well, but I could tell when his silhouette filled the doorway. “Are you all right?” His voice was low and hoarse. Clearly, he’d been sleeping before getting up for a drink.

“Yes, but I can’t fall asleep.”

“Want some water?”

“No.”

He stepped into the room and pulled the door closed behind him, probably so as not to disturb the twins. I turned on my phone’s flashlight to provide a little illumination when he crossed the room to close the door to the bathroom I shared with the twins.

Then he spoke in a voice that was quiet, but no longer a whisper. “Want me to make you some warm milk? I promise not to make it spicy.”

I gave a little smile at that. “No thanks.”

He opened the blinds, letting the moonlight in, and I turned off my flashlight. It was still dim in the room, but I could see that he was wearing dark, drawstring pajama bottoms. And only that.

Had I seen him shirtless before? It was definitely a sight to behold. Too bad it would be crass to turn the flashlight back on to check him out.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I know, warm milk sounds gross to me, too, but the twins liked it when they were younger.” He reached for my foot and started rubbing it, making me grateful that I’d pulled off the covers when they got too warm for my cast.

“God, that feels good.”

“Glad to hear it. So why can’t you sleep?”

I told him my theory about not getting enough exercise.

He nodded. “Fresh air might help, too. Maybe try to increase the time you spend on the deck? It’s so nice this time of year, when you can be out there without sweating.”

“Or freezing,” I added, thinking more of Colorado than here.

“Or getting eaten alive by bugs,” he added.

The thing I didn’t tell him was it kind of felt like my issue was as much psychological as it was physical. I got bored throughout the day, that was definitely part of it, but I also craved human contact. That was the most surprising part for me, because back in my old life, I certainly hadn’t had much of that.

I didn’t have a boyfriend to hold me tight. Until recently, my brother and I hadn’t even been much into hugging. But I’d been among people all day, and out doing things, and that had somehow negated the need.

But here, trapped in this room, I craved contact all the time. It filled me with joy when the twins scrambled onto the bed next to me. Or when Raphael lay down next to me after he helped me with my exercises. And with the puppies today—that had been incredible, and not just because they were the most adorable little guys ever. For over an hour, I’d had something to hug. To hold. To rub my face against. Flynn had somehow landed on the absolute best thing he could’ve done for me.

As much as I liked Raphael, I didn’t know if I should explain all that to him, or if he’d understand it if I did.

Still, he was here. He was rubbing my feet. And he’d offered to get me something to drink—maybe he wouldn’t mind providing something else I needed. “Raphael?”

“Yes?” He had both thumbs on the arch of my foot, and it felt so good I couldn’t help moaning. But then I remembered my goal.

“Could you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

Wow. The way he said that, instantly and firmly, made the newly dirty part of my brain try to switch into gear. But that wouldn’t be fair to him. “And could you, like… not read anything into it?”

His hands paused for a moment and then the foot rub continued. “All right.”

“Could you… just this once… stay in here tonight?” I took a quick breath and then rushed on. “I think it would help me fall asleep to have someone here next to me. I like your room, don’t get me wrong, but I just spend so much time alone in here. It always makes me feel better when someone’s here with me: the kids, you, Nana, Spencer…”

He broke in. “Or a basketful of puppies?”

“Yes,” I agreed, grateful to hear that he sounded amused, not weirded out. “I really think I might sleep better, but if you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

He was silent for a moment. I couldn’t see his face clearly, so I had no idea what he was thinking. Finally, he spoke. “That’s a tough one. Should I sleep out there on the lumpy sofa or in here, in my own bed, next to my friend who needs some company?”

Guilt rose in me. “Is it that bad out there?” I should’ve offered to switch with him. After all, I was doing a little better. Plus, I couldn’t roll over anyway, so I should’ve taken the much narrower couch.

“Relax, cher. I’m not complaining about the couch. I was just trying to say that yes, I’d be happy to stay in here with you tonight.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

I hoped there was enough light for him to see the big smile on my face.