Chapter 40 #2
He launched himself at me, arms wrapping around my neck as he pulled me into a crushing hug. I held him back just as fiercely, letting him shake and laugh and cry against me, grateful down to my bones that he was mine to hold.
The sounds of wood scraping and fabric rustling stirred me from sleep. Darby was tucked against me with his head under my chin, which meant the noises weren’t coming from him.
Sunlight streamed through the window blinds, giving the bedroom a mellow glow and outlining the figure hunched in front of my dresser. His tail swished through the air above a head that was crowned with an unmistakable cowboy hat.
Of course.
Four days after welcoming the Dollhouse dancers into my home, I was still graced with their company.
Most of them anyway. Beck and Colette had come after they were released from police custody to scoop up Zephyr, who was nothing short of delighted to be back in his boyfriend’s arms. Beck offered to put the others up at the hotel where he lived, but apparently my house had the better snacks and softer blankets.
So I was left with five rowdy, affectionate, and borderline feral guests.
We’d managed well enough. The dolls were adept at entertaining themselves as long as I surrendered my television, my pantry, and my entire living area to their appetites and energy. They were equally good at entertaining me. Sometimes it was even fun.
Other times, it was like living inside a tornado.
For instance, last night, when I resigned myself to eating pizza for the third time in a row because all my groceries had been consumed, restocked, and consumed again.
Or the afternoon before when I nearly ran into Oz and Elliot using the coffee table and each other as exercise equipment while Elliot spouted off about “strong shoulders” being the foundation of good pole work.
All of that brought me to the present, when my bedside alarm clock read 7:00 a.m. and I had a demon rooting through my underwear drawer.
“Colt?” I scrubbed a hand over my face and squinted at him. “What are you doing?”
His back was turned, and his hat tilted forward. My eyes drifted downward, and my brain stalled.
Bare skin. From back to buttocks.
“Are you naked?” I blurted.
My question and swift rise to sitting roused Darby, who rolled toward Colt as if guided by eyes in the back of his head.
“Colt, honey,” he mumbled into the pillow. “This is an invasion of privacy. You know we could’ve been fucking.”
Colt snorted without pausing his search. “Oh, I know about the fuckin’. I hear it every night. Soundtrack of my damn dreams.”
He turned fully then—still gloriously, unashamedly naked—and held up a pair of my boxer briefs. He shook the fold out of them and admired the fabric like it was haute couture.
“Hey, Darb, do you think these’ll fit me? I’m outta clean drawers.”
Darby pushed himself up onto an elbow and gave Colt a flat look. “You aren’t out; I just had some delivered yesterday.”
Colt clutched the underwear to his chest and glanced aside. His mouth twisted guiltily. “Maybe I lost ’em,” he muttered.
Darby frowned. “In the house? How?”
“I dunno.” Colt shrugged, and his tail swished. “They took a walk, I guess.”
Darby stared at him, unconvinced.
Colt squirmed under his scrutiny then sighed dramatically. “I’m sick of thongs and jockstraps all the time. I know they make my ass look perky, but these are real nice.” He looked fondly at the boxer briefs again then added, “Like a blanket for my butt crack.”
I slumped down in the bed and groaned into my hands. “Take them.”
With a victorious whoop, Colt bolted from the room, bare-assed and waving the underwear like a flag.
Darby snuffled a laugh, and I peeled my fingers away from my face long enough to ask, “How long did you say they’d be staying?”
“Until the police give us the all-clear,” he replied. “I doubt they’re in much of a hurry. Ours isn’t the kind of business deemed essential.”
“In Vegas? Are you sure? Clubs and casinos are the lifeblood of this town.”
“Not demon ones,” he replied dryly.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stretched. The comforter slid down his torso, baring him from his shoulders to his hips and pooling at the sensitive spot where his tail sprouted from the base of his spine.
That was one body I would never get tired of waking up to.
While I admired, Darby paused to adjust his satin bonnet.
Besides the general mayhem, the past few days had also been chockfull of deliveries.
Groceries and clothes were being offloaded on my doorstep what seemed like hourly, and there had been more than a few creature comforts tucked in with the essentials.
Face cream Darby insisted he couldn’t live without, the bonnet to keep his hair from frizzing, and a slew of beauty products the likes of which I’d never seen.
He shimmied off the bed and turned, wearing white lace panties that offered absolutely nothing in the way of modesty. His tail gave a happy wag as he grinned at me.
“Are you excited?” he asked.
I rolled onto my side and propped my chin in my fist. “About?”
He spread his arms like the answer was obvious. “It’s Daddy-daughter day!”
His joy was contagious, and I grinned despite the butterflies swarming in my stomach. “I think I’m mostly nervous,” I replied.
“Don’t be.” His smile softened as he stooped over the side of the mattress. “You’re wonderful, and you’re gonna do wonderful.” He paused before correcting himself. “Wonderful-ly.”
Straightening, he tapped his chin while pretending to think. “Do you need me to hype you up? I do it for the dolls all the time. Gets rid of those pre-show jitters.”
“Oh? How’s that go?”
“It’s different for everyone, but for you…” He trailed off, pondering until his expression suddenly brightened. “You, Mercer James,” he began. “Are a kickass Marine who looks incredibly sexy on a motorcycle, has a closet full of medals of valor, and you are also a responsible homeowner.”
Despite his cheeky expression and the shimmy that led my eyes on a journey across the planes of his body, I had to shake my head.
“I don’t think an eleven-year-old is gonna be impressed by any of those things.”
Darby scoffed right back. “You should’ve met me when I was eleven. I would have been impressed as hell.”
I fought the smile still tugging at my mouth. “Had they even invented motorcycles when you were eleven?”
Darby made a scandalized noise and launched himself onto the bed, tackling and pinning me against the headboard. From there, he swung a leg across my lap to straddle me and shove at my shoulders.
“Rude!” he exclaimed.
He started to climb off, but I caught his hips before he could wiggle away. “Maybe I don’t need a pep talk,” I said. “But I could use your help.”
He straightened immediately and threw a salute. “Reporting for duty.”
“Can you make sure the boys are out of here on time? I want to make one last pass before Rachel arrives.” And turn on the hot pink lava lamp that had mysteriously made its way into Molly’s room. Those things took a while to warm up.
Darby narrowed his eyes. “I think what you mean to ask is can I make sure the boys wipe their asses and your kitchen counters too. We don’t want your ex-wife stumbling in here and thinking you’ve been minding monkeys for half a week.”
“Haven’t I?”
His smirk softened into something fond as he dipped in to peck my lips. “They’ll be clean enough to eat off.”
He clambered off me and then the bed, and I watched him go because at this point looking away from him felt like a physical impossibility.
“The counters?” I called after him.
“And the floors, doors, and windows,” he replied, already halfway across the room. “You may not know this, but Maslow hired out plenty of things at the club. Housekeeping was not one of them. Leave it to us!”
He snagged his robe from the hook on the door—a slick, shimmering satin that matched his bonnet—and shrugged into it with a practiced roll of his shoulders.
Once he’d knotted the tie at his waist, he pivoted and shot me a final, playful salute.
I returned it then chuckled as he ducked out into the hall and started barking orders bound to send the dolls scrambling.
For a moment I stayed where I was, my insides still squirming with nerves. Then I blew out a breath and pushed the covers back. My gaze drifted to the stump of my right leg, then to the prosthetic propped against the bedside table.
Molly hadn’t seen me like this. Wounded and changed, but healed too.
Most days I hid behind jeans or cargo pants, armor made of fabric and habit.
But maybe I didn’t need armor this morning.
Maybe I could share a little of myself and hope she’d offer the same in return.
I wanted to know her—hear her plans and dreams and see the future come alive in her eyes.
Maybe that started with me.
So, I pulled on a tee shirt and shorts, brushed my teeth, and ran a hand through my hair. Then I paused in front of the bathroom mirror.
Mercer James.
Kickass Marine.
Sexy on a motorcycle.
Closet full of medals.
Responsible homeowner.
Lined up like that, it didn’t sound half bad.