Chapter 11
Eleven
Otillie-James
I needed to get laid. Not just laid—I needed to get tag-teamed by Casanova and Don Juan, so that any thought of my stepbrother fucking me would disappear entirely from my brain.
There’d been a moment. I was almost sure of it.
But as soon as we reached the house, he was all business, asking about how much to feed each kitten, their schedule—anything but the way we’d been standing under the tree outside, and the way his eyes had snagged on my lips as we spoke.
Just going to lock that shit back down where it belonged, as late-night fodder for my vibrator collection. After we finished up with the kitten care explanation, I quickly retired to my room and to my waterproof rabbit.
Lance and Akio still hadn’t returned, though, and I was a little worried. Maybe they were gone for good, but would Lance really leave without saying goodbye? I wished he had a phone, or some way to contact him, so I didn’t have to worry. I just had to remind myself that he was a capable man, not some injured fawn I’d collected on the side of the road. He had his own things to work through, and he couldn’t do that if I was hovering around him.
But when I woke up the following morning, and Lance was in the kitchen, I couldn’t help the flood of relief that washed through my body.
“Good morning, Lancelot.”
He gave me a small quirk of his lips, but his eyes were warm. I wondered if the scars on his face pulled painfully if he smiled.
“Good morning, Otillie-James. I’ve given the kittens their morning feed.”
I took my mug over to the machine and set it to make me a latte. “Thank you. I have work today, for a few hours, but I wanted to warn you that Sonny is staying for a little bit. He’s taken time off work, because he needs a ‘break.’” I did air quotes with a sigh. “But I think he just wants to keep an eye on me, to make sure I don’t break into some science lab and liberate the monkeys or something.”
He raised an eyebrow. It was dark and straight, and kind of attractive. “Was that something you were looking at doing?”
At least once a year, every year since I was about thirteen, but I didn’t tell him that. I just shook my head. “Not lately.” I reached down and scratched Akio’s ears. “I just didn’t want you guys to be surprised, if you stumbled across him this morning. Sonny’s a nice guy. He won’t get in your face.”
Lance gave me a strange look, his head slightly tilted. “This is your home. It’s his home too. I’m the guest here.”
I rolled my eyes at him, bringing my coffee to my lips and sighing happily before leaning back against the island countertop. “I know that. But it’s always good to know who’s haunting the place.”
A little bit of stubble had grown back across his face, enough to just see the slashes of scarring across his cheeks. There was one that dissected his upper lip almost to his nostril. His eyes were dark this morning, and not to brag, but I’d done a fantastic job on his hair. He seemed to be wearing new clothes, just basic ones—a soft flannel and light-wash jeans that fit him perfectly, clinging to his thighs just right. He looked so fucking handsome, it was almost painful.
Burying my face back into my coffee, I pushed that attraction back down too. Maybe I was ovulating or something, because I’d wanted to climb every attractive man in the vicinity for the last forty-eight hours.
But what would it be like to run my tongue up the strong column of his neck?
Oh god. Time to leave.
Lance’s face was unreadable as he sipped his tea, seemingly oblivious to my horny turmoil. Clearing my throat and hoping my face wasn’t on fire, I downed the rest of my coffee. “Okay, off to work I go. Call me if you need me.” Then I remembered he didn’t have a phone. “Or, like, send a carrier pigeon or something. Pepe would probably do it.”
Pepe was an injured pigeon out in my coop, with his girlfriend Sweetpea. None of the other rescue places would take them, because they were just pigeons, right? Rats with wings. But pigeons had once been domesticated, to the point they no longer knew how to operate as wild birds, and then someone invented the telephone, and what? We abandoned them back on the street? They’d even forgotten how to properly nest. Nope. Not on my watch. They’d get the same treatment from me as the dogs and cats.
I shrugged. “You’ll figure it out.” Lance chuckled, and I hustled out of the room before I said anything embarrassing.
I worked across town for Fur Babes Doggy Daycare, which was usually eight hours of pure chaos, but I loved it. I’d tried college, and while I’d made good grades, it wasn’t for me. I didn’t want to go into research, or become a corporate powerhouse, or whatever the hell kind of careers other people wanted.
Maybe it was because I’d lived the first part of my life homeschooled, free and without structure. It hadn’t made traditional education any easier for me. It had then been compounded by the assholes at that stuffy private school Dad had made me attend, who’d made the remainder of my teenage years hell.
Yeah, college hadn’t been for me, but the problem was, I didn’t know what was for me yet.
I turned into the staff parking just as the bus pulled up. It was basically a school bus for the doggos, and honestly, it was my favorite thing. Terry, the bus driver, opened the door, and the cacophony of barking immediately made me smile.
“Morning, Terry! Just in time, as always.”
“Morning, Miss Otillie. Only eleven today. Aruba Smith is having dental surgery.” Aruba Smith was a mixed-breed stray, adopted by Paul and Lionel Smith on their honeymoon in—you guessed it—Aruba. He was surly around strangers, but spent most of his days sitting beside my feet, looking at all the purebreds with something akin to disdain. He’d definitely punish his parents for the indignity of oral surgery.
Sasha, the daycare’s owner and hardest worker, bustled through the front doors of the building and onto the bus with me. “Morning, Terry. Morning, Tillie.” She smiled at the dogs, still attached to their seats by clips on their collars. “Morning, fur babies! How are we today?” she cooed, and the bus went wild.
Laughing, I went to work unclipping dogs and attaching them to leads on my belt harness. We never attached more than two at a time, just for safety. I started at the back, while Sasha started at the front.
Unclipping Bacon and Eggs, a Beagle brother and sister, I attached them to the leads. “Good morning, lovelies. Are we going to have a good day today?” Walking down the aisle of the bus, I scooped up Smilow. He was an elderly gentleman, who was maybe part Chihuahua with a grumpy attitude, but I’d won him over on my second day by giving him some of my fries.
Making my way through the air-conditioned office to the kennels, I attached everyone’s kennel tags to their collars. Each dog’s collar tag would only let them in their own kennel, so they could get a little peace and quiet if they ever wanted out of the communal areas. Bacon and Eggs got to share one, though, because they preferred to curl up together and would cry if separated.
Shifting through the tall gates, I let the Beagles off their leads, and they raced straight into the common area. Then, moving further down the rows, I put Smilow in our geriatric section. This was for our elderly puppers, who wanted to nap, eat, and lie in the sun without being jumped over by more rambunctious dogs.
As I put Smilow in, he gave me a look that said I probably could’ve been quicker, and I was lucky he wouldn’t talk to my manager, then went to lie under the blanket on his fluffy bed.
Grinning, I went back out to the bus to let in the next lot. And the next. Before I knew it, I was smiling widely and chatting away to my favorite friends. I loved all of the dogs, from the wild, enthusiastic Shepherds like Apollo and Aksel, who seemed to run and play from the moment they arrived to the minute they left.
Or Tank, who was always holding at least two tennis balls in his mouth, even when I hadn’t put out any balls yet. I’d swear he kept them in his cheeks and would just spit them out when he wanted to play.
Or Mika the Goldendoodle, who had an emotional support blankie that she spent all day carrying around.
I kept an eye on them all as they played, the ever-serious X the Doberman at my side surveying the shenanigans. “They’re in a good mood today, wouldn’t you say?” I said to him conversationally. “You wouldn’t believe this, because I’m sure you’re a law-abiding citizen, but I got picked up by the police on the weekend. You’re being supervised by an almost-convicted felon.” X gave me the side-eye, like he was reevaluating our friendship.
Drax and Loki were getting a little rowdy, so I stood and went over to do my job. The second I unzipped the pouch on my belt, every dog in the yard stopped, their attention immediately on me.
I looked down at them with my most authoritative expression. No one else in life listened to me, but when I told these guys to form an orderly line, they did. Grinning, I fed the first one a treat, then the next, and so on.
What a job.
I was exhausted when I made it home that night, my feet and knees aching from standing in the yard most of the day. I’d been tired for weeks now, and when I walked through the door to the smell of dinner already cooked, I could have wept with relief.
Kicking off my boots and hanging my bag in the coat closet, I walked into the large kitchen. A shirtless Sonny was cooking something on the stove, and I swear, drool welled in my cheeks. Sonny was beautiful. Soft, golden skin stretched across flexing muscles, unadorned by anything. No tattoos. No scars. Just smooth perfection that you wanted to mark up with your teeth and nails.
I wasn’t surprised to see Truett sitting at the island across from him, typing on his phone. He’d lost his suit jacket, just in his vest and white dress shirt, but underneath the soft white cotton, I could see the tattoos that flowed up his arms. I knew they ran over his torso too, some even spreading down his thighs. I’d really enjoyed the family pool parties over the years, just so I could watch him in his swim shorts, moving around like a work of art. Or a wet dream.
Those slutty thigh tattoos had been a focal point in many of my teenage fantasies. Also, my adult fantasies.
What was weird about the scene, though, was Rufio perched on Truett’s shoulder. The bird looked absolutely ecstatic to be there, clinging to genuine Armani.
Shaking my head, I strode into the room, like I hadn’t just been loitering in the hall, perving like a creep. “That smells amazing,” I told Sonny, and when he looked up and smiled at me, my heart flip-flopped in my chest.
Fuck. So beautiful.
“It’s just cheese and garlic pasta, but I’ll run to the store tomorrow and get supplies for something more substantial for the rest of the week.” Was there slight disapproval in his voice that the only thing I had was deli meat and frozen pizza?
I was busy. I didn’t have time to cook elaborate meals. So I nodded noncommittally, walking over to Rufio. Bending closer, I put my hand out for him to step on. “What are you doing up here, Mister?” I asked, but the question was really for Truett.
The Alpha in question shrugged. “I walked past the cage, and he said, ‘Let me out of here, fuckface.’ Who am I to argue with a request like that?” He looked at the bird with amusement. “I kind of like his audacity.”
I just bet. “You’re never going to find a permanent place with language like that, Rufio.”
“RUF-I-OOOOH!” the bird chanted back at me.
Laughing, I walked to the bird stand in what had once been the dining room, but now housed both Pepe and Sweetpea the pigeons, and Elvira, the umbrella cockatoo with a plucking problem. An experienced parrot handler was coming to get Elvira at the weekend, and I was glad. Whatever had happened to her before she was rescued had made her withdrawn, and I didn’t have the time nor the skills to bring her out of her shell. She needed specialist care.
I sat Rufio on top of Elvira’s cage, which had all the parrot toys and enrichment laid out. That should keep him busy for a little while anyway.
When I walked back into the kitchen, Sonny and Truett were laughing together, looking like the teenage boys I’d fallen in love with all those years ago, making my heart ache. One day, they would belong to someone else.
I pasted a smile on my face and went to join them. They might belong to someone else eventually, but today, I’d pretend they belonged with me.