Chapter 4
Chapter Four
TATUM
W ren walks in and I’m instantly torn between thinking the tiny woman with the long black hair and big green eyes is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and being terrified that she’s going to shoot me for banging her secret crush.
“You aren’t going to use that to separate us, are you?” I ask, really hoping my “secret crush” theory is wrong.
If it’s not, there’s not much I can do to make an apology for banging her man seem sincere while I’m still hooked to him in such an intimate fashion.
“What?” She blinks, pushing her glasses up her nose. She follows my no-doubt horrified look to the shotgun and lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh, no, of course not. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to leave it in the car. There have been break-ins around the lakefront lately.” She sets it in the corner behind the door and shrugs off her backpack. “And I can’t afford to have it stolen. I’ll need it to get back into the house later.”
“That turkey still bothering you? Even at night?” Drew asks before I can form a coherent theory as to why she might need a gun to get home.
Safe to say, turkey troubles would not have been one of my guesses.
Wren sighs, shrugging off her coat and hanging it on the coat tree. “Yes, darn it. It’s out for my blood. Pecks at me every time I leave the house without a gun to fire into the sky to scare it off. And animal control is no help since I won’t let them shoot the pesky thing.” She reaches down, grabbing the backpack from the floor. “Tim thinks it’s hysterical, laughs his stupid butt off every time I call for advice. He thinks the turkey’s in love with me, but if that’s love, it’s not the good kind.”
“You’re in a toxic relationship with a turkey,” I observe as she slowly approaches the couch.
She laughs again, more relaxed this time. “I am. And there aren’t many self-help books about that, I’ll tell ya.” She casts a pointed glance at our blanket-covered lower halves. “Not much online about separating people with conjoined private piercings, either so I just brought a little of everything. I grabbed my first aid kit, a small set of surgical implements, and a few things from my toolbox in the garage. I figured between all of that, we should be able to get things sorted out for you guys.”
“Thank you,” I say with a gulp. “But if we could make surgical tools the last resort, I’d appreciate it. I’m not good with blood. I think it’s because my little brother, Maximus, used to get nose bleeds all the time as a kid and I had to help clean it up. But it could just be genetic. My grandmother also hates blood. My mom is okay with it, obviously, since she’s a nurse. Thank you for your service, by the way. Nurses don’t get enough credit. You’re freaking warrior heroes.” I gulp again. “Sorry, I’m babbling. I’m nervous. I’ve never been in a situation like this before with a total stranger.”
“Well, we can fix that part,” she says, with a kind smile. “I’m Wren Marie Baxter. I grew up in Bad Dog with my mama and little sister, went to college in St. Paul, then came right back to my hometown because I love it here. I’m a nurse for Drew’s brother, Barrett, at his OB-GYN office. In my spare time, I enjoy making jewelry, trying new recipes, and plotting ways to scare off the turkey terrorist living in the woods across from my house. Better?”
I grin. “So much better.”
She sets her tools on the coffee table. “Good. And you can tell me all about you over coffee and cookies tomorrow. I’m partial to marshmallow and chocolate chip, but open to just about anything. Now, let’s get a look at what we’re dealing with here before I go scrub up in the kitchen.”
“Ready?” Drew asks, shooting me a meaningful look.
Pulling in a breath, I nod. “Let’s do it. But I’m going to close my eyes because—embarrassment.”
Drew pulls back the small throw blanket we wrapped around our lower halves, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I sense Wren moving closer and hear her soft, “huh, okay then,” but almost no time passes before the blanket is back in place and Wren’s at the sink, running water.
“Think you can bust us loose?” Drew asks, making me gulp, yet again.
“Or gently wiggle us loose?” I counter. “No busting or anything violent sounding required?”
“Right,” he says, adding in a whisper, “Sorry.”
“I don’t like to count my chickens before they’re hatched, but I think this will be pretty easy,” Wren says, soaping her hands up to the wrist. “And I don’t think we’ll need anything but my jewelry pliers.”
I cringe at the mention of pliers, but Wren seems to read the worry on my face and adds in a comforting voice, “And I told you, jewelry making is basically my only hobby. I’m obsessed with it and pretty handy with a pair of pliers if I do say so myself.”
“She makes amazing earrings,” Drew says. “Barrett bought sets for all the women in our family last year for Christmas. They were everyone’s favorite present.”
“And next year, I’ll tell Barrett to buy jewelry for the boys, too,” Wren says, a teasing note in her voice that makes me like her even more. “I already have a few ideas on something unique I can make for you, Andrew.”
“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” he asks as Wren returns to the coffee table, pulls out her jewelry pliers, and gives them a quick swab with an alcohol pad.
“Oh, sure you will,” she says, laughter in her voice. “Because I am never going to tease you about it again. I just couldn’t help myself, just this once.”
“You’re a goddess among women,” I say. “And I’m really sorry we didn’t have a a chance to become better friends before you had to see my lady parts.”
She laughs as she pulls on a pair of surgical gloves. “Oh, sweetie, don’t worry. I’m a nurse. I’ve seen it all and there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We’re all just people getting by as best we can.”
I make a considering noise and Drew says, “You’re a wise woman, Wren, and I appreciate you.”
“Of course, that’s what friends are for. And honestly, I’m glad to see you in this kind of pickle after all the years you’ve spent alone,” Wren says. Before I can properly digest this juicy bit of information on Drew’s dating history—or lack thereof—she adds, “Now, both of you lean back a bit, close your eyes, and think of England.”
Drew and I both laugh, even as we try to hold still in our weird positions. By the time we stop, I hear a sharp snipping sound and the pressure vanishes from my nether regions.
I exhale a relieved breath. “Oh my God, is it out?”
“It’s out.” Wren says, holding my now broken ring up, still clasped in the pliers. “Yours was the easiest to get free, so I took it out and left Drew’s in. I hope that’s okay. I’m assuming you can buy another one to replace it?”
“I’m going to leave it out,” I say. “For now. And maybe forever. It was a fun, impulsive thing I did with my crazy younger sister, mostly to shock our mother. But in light of the evening’s events, it seems better to go ring free for a while.”
Wren smiles. “I have to agree. No sense letting jewelry get in the way of a good time.” She pats Drew on the shoulder. “Okay, you two are good. Just give me a second to grab my things and I’ll hit the trail.”
“Wait,” Drew says. “Just turn around for a second and let us get dressed. Then I can pay you for your trouble.”
Wren snorts as she turns her back to us, loading up her bag. “Oh, hush. I don’t want your money. You’d do the same for me if I had a property law problem that could only be solved by a midnight house call while I had my pants off.”
“I would,” Drew agrees with a laugh, reaching for his boxer briefs and my panties on the other side of the couch. “But I want to do something to show my thanks. I mean, Tatum’s making cookies. I have to do something.”
“I am,” I agree. “I’ll go shopping for ingredients first thing tomorrow. It’s my last day before I start my new job so the timing’s perfect.” I glance at Drew as we slide out from under the throw blanket and quickly pull on our underwear while Wren’s back is turned. “You could help if you want,” I whisper.
“I would love to,” he whispers back, “but I’m back on dad duty at eight a.m. Rain check?”
“Of course,” I murmur. “Gotta make Sunday pancakes for your little…boy? Girl?”
“Girl,” he says, the instant softening of his voice making me positive he’s an amazing father.
“Cool,” I say. I’m about to ask how old she is when Wren starts toward the door, calling, “See you two later.”
“Wait,” Drew says, hopping on one leg as he struggles into his jeans and starts after her. I take the chance to pull on my jeans, too. “At least let me give you an escort home. I can watch your six while you head inside, keep you from having to defend yourself from another turkey attack.”
Wren pauses, peeking back carefully, then turning fully once she sees we’re both dressed. “Well, if you’re calling it a night anyway…”
“Totally. I have to get some sleep.” I don’t want Drew to go, but I also don’t want this poor angel of a woman to have to wield a shotgun at a deranged gobbler at one in the morning all by herself. “And you really should give Drew the chance to be your hero after you were ours. We’re so very grateful.”
“All right, then,” she says, with a shy grin as she pulls on her coat. “And maybe Kyle will be afraid of you since you’re bigger than I am and leave me alone for good.”
“Kyle?” Drew asks.
“That’s what I named the turkey,” Wren says. “Because he’s a jerk and what’s a jerkier name than Kyle?” Her eyes fly to mine as she lifts a hand. “Not that it’s a bad name, if you have a friend named Kyle or something. Not all Kyles are jerks, it’s just if you meet a jerk, there’s a good chance, he’s named Kyle. You know?”
“Oh, I do,” I say, grinning her way. “I like you. A lot. I’m going to make you a double batch of cookies. Which reminds me, let me give you my phone number so we can connect tomorrow.” I move to the kitchen, grabbing the small pen and pad I noticed by the landline phone earlier. I quickly write my number down —twice—and cross back to the door. “Here you go. One for you. And one for you.” I let my fingers linger on Drew’s for a second, willing him to text me tomorrow with my eyes.
“I’ll text you as soon as I get home,” he says in that warm, rumbly voice of his. “Let you know I got there safe.”
“You do that,” I murmur. “And let me how things went with Kyle. Tell him to quit being a dick for me.”
“I will,” Drew says, with that same flirty grin.
Our dating future hasn’t been ruined by our weird sex accident, after all! And if this goes as well as I hope it will, we now have a kick-ass “The Night we Met Story.”
I shouldn’t be thinking weeks down the road, let alone months or years, but there’s just something about Drew. I already feel so comfortable with him, like I’ve known him my whole life.
Or like, I’ve been waiting to know him…
After Wren and Drew head out, I cross back to the kitchen and scrawl on the pad, “I think I’d miss you, even if we’d never met,” and stick it to the refrigerator with one of the Bad Dog magnets left there by my landlord. I write down inspiring quotes and stick them where I’ll see them all the time, but this is my first time writing a quote straight from the heart.
But it feels so right.
Just looking at it makes my tummy do a happy flip…even at seven a.m. the next morning when I’m awoken by a clanky garbage truck only five hours after hitting the sheets.
It cheers me as I make cookies and put a few pictures of family and friends out around my new place. Later, after a great afternoon chatting with Wren at a local coffee shop, it makes me smile as I whip up a grilled cheese for dinner.
And then I get my third text from Drew since he left last night, a simple— Can I take you out for dinner Wednesday night? I have a short day at work and my new childcare situation should be sorted out by then —and my already happy heart does a touchdown dance.
I text back— Yes! I should be off work at six. Excited to see you again —and settle in to watch reruns of Absolutely Fabulous, feeling a little smug about my love life for the first time in years.
I can imagine the conversation with my sisters now?—
You just moved to town and met an incredible, kind, funny, sex god of a man on your first night?
Why, yes…yes, I did. Thank you for asking.
But I should have known better.
The course of my love life has never run smooth and smug is a dangerous emotion. It’s cocky, arrogant. Indulging in smugness is just asking the universe to give you the kick in the ass you so richly deserve.
It’s a fact proven Monday morning when I pull into my new employer’s driveway and Drew steps out of the front door, carrying a little girl with fiery red hair and his big brown eyes.