Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Fallon
I wake up alone, wondering where PJ went. Somehow, after drifting off after the best sex of my life, I’m all cleaned up. Wearing fresh boxer briefs. My phone has been plugged in beside the bed.
I’ve got new messages.
PJ: Went to run a quick errand. Be back soon
PJ: PS last night was fucking amazing
PJ: I can’t stop thinking about you
A bratty voice in my head wonders why he left if last night was so amazing. Things between us are still fairly new. Especially now, in what feels like an entirely new phase. A significantly more intimate phase.
One where I’m almost feeling ready to open myself up again.
While Marina and I had our issues, I can admit I miss the trust and intimacy that come with a relationship. Specifically, I want it with that energetic, blue-eyed redhead who may or may not be a bit too young.
He makes me feel alive.
A noise downstairs has me jumping out of bed. PJ’s voice floats to me from downstairs, and even though it’s hardly been any time at all, I want to see him.
“It’s a nice house. Big back yard to run around in. Anybody would be lucky as hell to live here.”
At the top of the stairs, I freeze. My stomach drops. What the hell? Is he talking to a realtor or something?
My last conversation with Wes floats back to me.
The one where he mentioned that he hadn’t realized how much younger PJ was than me, and not so subtly suggested he might be more interested in my money.
When I pointed out that Wes was the one who set us up, he shrugged and mumbled something about seizing opportunities.
At the time, I was pissed, dismissing Wes for a jealous asshole. After all, I know things between him and Gina haven’t been great. Right now I admit it’s getting to me.
Until I ease down the stairs, quietly trying to hear more.
“Look, I know you’re new at this but do me a favor and don’t piss in here. Especially not on me. We want you to make a good impression.”
What the absolute hell?
My foot hits the bottom step with a loud creak, and PJ turns with a slightly guilty look on his face, and he’s holding a squirming bundle in his arms.
“Hey.” He clears his throat. “You’re up.”
“Since when do you have a dog? And why is it here?”
“Uh, surprise. This is Bruiser.” He holds up the bundle, showing a wrinkly dark gray pit bull-looking mix. Then he places the puppy gently on the floor.
Is this a joke?
The little guy takes exactly one step before toppling onto his side. I can’t stop myself from stooping down to scoop him up and put him back on his feet again. He takes another few steps and falls over again, legs flailing.
I glance up at PJ, who’s watching the whole situation with a look of uncertainty. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t remember what it’s called. Something he was born with, something to do with the size of part of his brain?
” PJ sets down a bag of what looks like dog kibble he’s been holding under his arm.
“My friend Simon volunteers at this animal rescue. I guess sometimes they go to shelters and try to pull dogs off the kill list before it’s too late.
There were these puppies that needed a place, and my friend is fostering them, but this guy—” He nods to the puppy.
“—was getting pummeled by Simon’s cat, so he needed someone else to take him. ”
“You’re fostering him?”
“Kinda hoped you’d be willing to.”
No. There’s no way I’m equipped to help a puppy with special needs. I’ve barely been taking care of myself.
I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off. “Hear me out before you say no.”
My lungs deflate. “Fine. I’m listening.”
“The puppy’s not sick or anything, and according to Simon, he’s not in any pain.
He’ll probably take longer learning to walk because of this wobbly issue of his.
He could use a little extra TLC. You’ve said yourself you’ve been a little lost or whatever since Marina died.
Having this guy to look after, I think it’d be good for both of you. I think you two need each other.”
Dammit. The guy who seemed to have a ten-pound chip on his shoulder the night we met is looking at me now with so much warmth it almost hurts. This is PJ’s way of making a romantic gesture, I realize. To rescue the dog or maybe even me, I’m not sure.
I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that it seems to be working.
I look down at the dog, who has once again fallen sideways.
After a minute of struggling to get upright, I can’t take it anymore.
Knowing it won’t help the dog learn to walk, I reach down and pick him up, pulling his squirmy body close to my chest. Bruiser immediately stops flailing and settles down, resting his head on my arm.
Fuck. Nothing in the world will get me to admit the warm, soft feeling in my chest right now.
Still. “PJ, puppies are a lot of work. I’ve got school starting next week.”
You always wanted a dog. And kids.
Why am I imagining Marina taking PJ’s side?
PJ hooks his thumb toward the front door.
“I’ve got a crate for him in my car. He’s good in there for a few hours a day, and Simon says he’s making progress with the potty training.
I could even swing by sometimes to let him out for you, if you don’t mind me having a key.
Oh, but he does chew socks and underwear, so maybe don’t leave any of those lying around. ”
I make the huge mistake of looking down again. A wrinkly dark gray face with wide golden eyes gazes up at me.
There’s a voice in my head telling me all the reasons why he shouldn’t stay. He needs more attention than I can provide. He might make my allergies act up. Dogs are dirty and messy, and their hair gets everywhere.
All the reasons Marina didn’t want a dog. Reasons I agreed with at the time.
“If you don’t want him, I can take him for a while,” PJ murmurs.
“I’m a little worried about him and Jolene getting along, and like I said, I think you two could be good for each other.
I knew it was a gamble bringing him here, though.
Simon warned me that animals given as gifts often wind up back at the shelter.
So, if you don’t want him, you can say no. ”
No. No, I really shouldn’t. But I can’t look at this little face snuggling against me and make my lips move.
“Just until he finds someone to adopt him,” I say.
“Awesome.” PJ claps his hands. “I’ll get the rest of his stuff from the car.”
I fall into a time warp as I stare down at this little warm bundle in my arms. The puppy yawns, snuggles into me, yawns some more, and then lets his tongue loll out of his mouth. Honestly, I should put him down, but watching him fall down over and over kind of hurts.
“I think that’s everything.”
I blink and come to, finding the room has changed around me while I was staring at… “You said his name’s Bruiser?”
“That’s the name the rescue gave him. You can change it if you want. Simon said whatever you call him is what he’ll get used to.”
“Bruiser.” The dog blinks his eyes open. He must know the name. “I think we’ll keep it.”
“What’s all this stuff?” I scan the room, which is suddenly cluttered with dog paraphernalia. A crate, a bed, some toys, and over in the kitchen, I can see PJ set up a food and water station.
“Just, you know, dog things. The crate and a couple of the toys came from Simon’s place, but I also stopped and got a few things at that Pet Boutique place. Probably more than he needed, but there’s this kind old lady who runs the place, and I think she knew a sucker when she saw one.”
“Let me pay you back.” I remember the bank receipt I found after our first date, when PJ got me breakfast. “If I’m taking care of him, then I should pay.”
PJ shakes his head. “Nah. Simon said to send the receipt to the rescue. They’ll cover fostering expenses, at least for the food and whatnot.”
The look on his face tells me he’s not interested in arguing, so I bite my tongue. I’m looking at way more than the basics. The fluffy bed and the gourmet-looking treats alone must have set him back. But I decide to let it go, at least for now.
Buying stuff for a dog that’s not yours and refusing reimbursement, those aren’t the actions of a gold-digger, right? Wes can stuff his opinions where the sun doesn’t shine.
It doesn’t stop me from wondering what else PJ wants. Or is it possible things are actually good for a change?
“Okay, just… I’ll take care of things from here on out,” I tell him.
Between my books and the estate Marina left behind, I have enough money to keep me comfortable for a good long while.
If I didn’t need something to do with my time, I could probably get away with not working at all.
PJ doesn’t need to take care of everything.
He shouldn’t when money’s more of an issue for him.
That doesn’t mean I’m not loving the way he takes care of me, though. A little too much. When Marina was alive, my job was taking care of her. Supporting her. Bringing coffee in the morning, buying her art supplies, and keeping the house clean.
I liked feeling useful. Wanted. Needed. Our lifestyle gave me a sense of belonging and purpose.
Still, it’s unexpectedly addictive the way PJ makes me feel so cared for.
I glance at the puppy that’s fallen asleep in my arms. For now, I guess I have a new purpose. The smug way PJ’s eyeing us both, I suspect he knows.
“Hey, I almost forgot,” he says, “that mulch and stuff is still in your driveway. You need some help getting rid of it?”
“Shit.” I set the sleeping dog gently on his new bed. “I need to call and cancel or they’ll keep dropping it all off twice a year.”
“What have you been doing with it?”
My face heats. “Putting it in the garden.” Even though I hate working in the garden. Especially in summer.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” PJ says in his take-charge tone. “Sit down over here.”
“What? Why?”
PJ’s only answer is pointing to a chair in the corner of the living room, and I do as I’m told. Then he walks over, holding out his phone.
“Here.”