Chapter Nine #2
“Elliot doesn’t have a leg to stand on. He adores Mickey.” Matt points at us.
Oliver folds his arms across his chest. “I do, too, doesn’t mean we’re ready for another one.”
“He’s my dog,” Nicholas interrupts.
Everyone ignores him.
“They are a big responsibility. This one is cute but still a lot of work,” I tell them honestly.
“Still my dog,” Nicholas says.
“See.” Oliver points at me. “Even he doesn’t want us to adopt when he organized this whole thing.”
“You can definitely adopt, but don’t do it unless you’re sure.”
“I wasn’t sure when I adopted Mickey. You know, my dog? But I’ve never regretted it,” Nicholas chimes in.
“Yeah, but you adopted him for work,” Oliver says.
Oh, that whole thing. It’s so easy to forget our past when things are going great between us. But it’s a good reminder that Nicholas only adopted Mickey because I killed his owner, who’d murdered his wife.
My gaze flickers to Nicholas. It’s hard to understand his reaction. Then he averts his eyes and focuses on Oliver.
That just seals it for me. Nicholas is not ready to learn about Adrian and why I need to find Raymond just yet, maybe in a month or two. What we have is too damn fragile to risk right now.
“Alright, can we at least go look at them again?” Matt relents.
Oliver turns to me. “You closing up any time soon?”
“Yeah, that was the last checkup. Ashley just left. Give me two minutes to clean this up.”
Oliver nods, and they walk out with Mickey. I turn to find Nicholas still standing near the entrance of the tent. “You need any help?”
“Nah, I’ve got this.” I sanitize the equipment and arrange it in its boxes while Nicholas stands there fidgeting.
“So the event looks like a success?” he says after a while.
“It was. I did around forty checkups. We’re expecting a huge boost in the number of clients. And the last time I checked the adoption numbers, we found homes for three kittens and five puppies.” I crumple the exam table paper.
“That’s so great. I’m so proud of you.”
I crunch the paper some more to stop the heat from traveling to my face at his words. This is so lame, just like everything else he does.
“And I don’t think I have said this before, but thank you for bringing Mickey to my life.” His voice gets closer with every word. “I’ve read the guy’s file. Mickey is happy now, all because of you.” He stops right behind me, our bodies almost touching.
My back heats up despite the small gap he’s left.
“I’m so confused about the whole thing, a little scared too, and very, very angry,” he whispers right into my ear.
I still. Of course, he’s angry. All I do is make his life complicated. I’ve cut him off from his friends, made him lie every day, and just when he thought he could breathe for a minute, I’ve brought a new problem into his life.
“I’m feeling a lot. But Elliot, baby, not because of you. Never because of you,” he continues.
I wish I could believe him. I really do. I take a deep breath, fighting all the thoughts trying to overtake my mind. Not the right time or place, thoughts.
I turn and meet his gaze. “Only you can come into a tiny tent that reeks of wet fur and attempt to make it romantic.” I shake my head.
“Attempt? This is romantic. You’re overwhelmed with romance right now.” He snatches the crumpled paper from me and drops it into one of the garbage bags. Then pulls me into him.
I get on my tiptoes to meet his soft but eager mouth halfway. When those lips get particularly demanding, I push him back. “This is gross. You are gross.”
“But you love me.” He winks at me, sending my heart into overdrive.
I do. I so do, but saying it still makes me sweat. Like reminding the universe again and again would just challenge it to conjure up ways to fuck everything up. So, I do what I do best. Distract him.
I close the distance I’d just created and grab his hair, pulling him closer. This kiss is a statement. A plea. An apology. I try to channel everything I’d never say, hoping he’d feel it all.
He pulls me impossibly close until the whole world disappears. It’s just him and me, floating in the space we’ve created in this cruel reality. There are no killers or their sons. Just his tongue claiming my mouth. His taste overwhelming my senses. His heat shielding me from the world.
A loud clattering throws me back into reality. We’re still in the tiny blue tent, surrounded by medical equipment. And a smirking Sam. “Oops,” he says.
I look down at the set of forceps he’d dropped on the exam table
Nicholas lets me go, a glare aimed at Sam.
Sam raises his hand in surrender. “Rein it in, lover boy. They need Elliot to announce the winners.”
“I’ll be just a minute,” I stalk out of the tent because, unfortunately, we do have responsibilities. I have a business I need to keep running. And two killers I need to track. All of it so I can make life a little easier for Nicholas.
Oliver and Matt leave shortly after with their new Shih Tzu, who was, not surprisingly, chosen by Oliver, who was so completely mesmerized by the little pup that all his concerns were immediately squashed under the little paws.
“You’re babysitting him all the time,” he warns Nicholas and me before leaving.
I shrug. I guess I’ll be doing some dog bed shopping today.
Nicholas stays back to help me and Ashley clean up.
Sam bounces off midway with a wink and reassurance that he’s not coming back home tonight.
He better not be meeting Adrian without telling me first. The fact that Sam doesn’t have any obsession with danger is the only reason I don’t question him more.
It takes us two hours to slowly clear out the area. People really need to learn to use trash cans. But by late afternoon, we’re in my car with Mickey in the backseat.
“Where did Sam go off to?” Nicholas asks, securing his seatbelt.
I start the engine after ensuring Mickey is properly settled in his harness. He doesn’t like it one bit but relents when bribed with his favorite treats. “I never know where Sam is unless he’s in my eyesight.” Lately, I’ve been feeling I need to keep a closer eye on him.
If quitting our operation was hard on me, it must have been horrible for him. He dedicated his entire life to this and only quit because he thought I needed it. I thought I did, too, but now that the novelty of having my days to myself has worn off, I’m scrambling to find something to do.
“He lives an exciting life.” Nicholas nods.
I snort. “Says the werewolf secret agent.”
Then there was Nicholas. He’s patting Mickey, who has shoved his face between our seats, feeling left out. Maybe I can find other ways to keep myself occupied. I’d promised one of the dog shelters from the event that I’d volunteer for them for the next month.
Nicholas covers my hand on the gearshift with his for a second before pulling away. Yes, I’ll be fine. Now, I need to make sure Sam is fine too.
I park in the driveway and let Mickey out. He makes a beeline for my door while we take boxes full of equipment and banners out of the trunk. I pick one of the heavy ones.
“I got it.” Nicholas snatches it from me.
I glare at him as he adds two more heavy ones on top of it. His biceps bulge with the weight, but that’s the only sign of strain in his entire body. He isn’t even in a hurry to move, the bastard. Completely satisfied, standing there, giving me a show.
“Are you done?” he asks, his voice easy, a bit amused.
I narrow my eyes, pick the only box left in the trunk, and stomp over to the door, ignoring Nicholas’s mocking laugh.
He follows me while I try my best to focus on the simple task of unlocking the door.
The guy is hot. What am I supposed to do?
Not stare as his T-shirt sleeves stretch over those outrageously tanned muscles?
The sweat coating his arm is the result of all the hard work in the sunny park, not from the measly boxes that would have taken me at least three rounds to bring inside.
It paints a picture I’m too weak to ignore.
“How about we go in now before Mickey bolts, and I do a hundred push-ups for you once we’re inside?”
That makes me snatch my gaze away from his arms and look up at his sparkling blue eyes.
My face gets hot with embarrassment. I quickly put in the code and push the door open.
Mickey rushes inside and crashes into one of his beds. The white one. Without cleaning his paws first.
Putting my box down, I grab a towel from Mickey’s cabinet in the living room and clean his paws before we have to replace the whole thing.
“I bet you’re the only person ever to buy a white dog bed.” Nicholas walks up behind me as I stand up. He drops a kiss on the top of my head, gives me a quick squeeze from behind, then walks away. Despite how often he does it, the casual affection still makes my heart race.
It has to wear off, right? This constant need to have him with me all the time, holding me, talking to me, or just looking at me. It has to go away because I don’t know if my poor heart can take it for long.