Chapter 5
FIVE
Phoebe
A rough tongue on my face dragged me out of sleep.
I squinted at the watery gray room. Definitely not my room. I huffed out a quiet laugh when the dog licked me again, and I buried my nose in his neck. “I know I need a shower, but this isn’t the way.”
He wiggled beside me, trying valiantly to get into my skin. I wrinkled my nose at the grit of his fur. Both of us needed a bath.
I peeked over at Dutch. He’d rolled onto his back, his arm stretched out toward me.
I froze as I realized his fingers were buried in my hair as well as under the dog’s neck. Almost like he was reaching for both of us.
I gingerly rolled out of reach and his fingers flexed. Part of me wanted to curl into him. The room was cool and all that body heat was tempting. Not smart, but no one ever accused me of having a good handle on my impulse control.
Instead, I hugged the dog and stifled a laugh as he buried his face into my neck. That was a far safer bet. To be fair, I didn’t remember passing out. I rarely slept well when I was away from my own bed, add in the stranger next to me and that made a very weird combination.
A handful of hookups dotted my twenty-eight year history, but I rarely stayed the night with anyone—even the few people I’d had relationships with.
Between my odd working hours and my weird quirk of getting energized after sex, cuddling fell way down on my list. The creative fire after an orgasm fueled me for hours and hours.
Most guys just wanted to sleep and I was happy to leave them to it.
Not that I should be thinking about sex—especially with my grumpy porcupine of a neighbor. I wasn’t entirely sure he liked me. Heck, I wasn’t sure I liked him. Then there was the mystery of the box of scraps in the hall. Ex-boyfriend? Hated everything that a girlfriend had given him?
Column C instead?
He hadn’t exactly been the most forthcoming with information about who he was. I was pretty sure the fascination was strictly one sided. He’d be booting me out as soon as the plows showed up. Dutch practically had a do-not-disturb sign hanging around his neck.
I swallowed a snicker as a balled up porcupine with a sign clutched in his foot popped into my head. I’d already drawn a few sketches of the cartoony porcupine on my porch bench. I probably needed to find a better name for the little guy. Porkie wasn’t very creative.
I couldn’t deny the fire in his gray eyes did something to my much ignored lady garden every time I called him Porkie.
That probably had more to do with his hotness factor than his personality.
I was a sucker for a wounded bird, even if he acted more like a pterodactyl protecting its egg—aka his pride.
The legion of animals he was becoming in my mind wasn’t healthy. To be honest, the fool probably needed a friend.
Dutch was in full-on defense mode for some reason. I didn’t take it personally. My brother Keaton was much like him and I’d learned how to deal with him long ago.
I glanced down at the dog who was staring adoringly at Dutch. He couldn’t be all bad if this dog was already obsessed with him. “Do you need to go out?”
His attention immediately switched to me as his tail thumped.
“Okay, let’s go see just how bad it is out there.” I slipped out of the bed and the dog tumbled off the bed, his nails scrabbling on the hardwood.
Dutch rolled over onto his stomach, taking up a majority of the bed. He reached for what used to be my pillow, dragging it under his body and wrapping around it. My mouth dried at the flex of muscles in his forearm and thick fingers curling around the gray sheets.
I itched for a sketchbook to capture all the veins in his forearms and the topical map of the ones on the back of his hand. Add in the knotty texture of his knuckles and blunt fingertips, and dang.
It had been a minute since anyone had caused such a buzz under my skin.
Just my luck that he was probably hung up on the guy whose clothes were in ribbons in the hallway.
My gaze drifted to his curls which tangled around his angular face.
Some of the dark circles had eased overnight, but his skin still held a gray tinge.
It matched the monochrome vibe of his house.
Without thinking, I pushed a curl out of his eyes and he stirred.
I backed up and hurried out of the room.
He needed his rest and I needed to stop lusting after him.
I padded down the hall with the dog on my heels.
I crossed to the fireplace hearth where I’d set my socks to dry.
The dog snatched one out of my hand and I chased him around the living room for a minute, before falling into a heap on the floor to attack kiss him until I pried them out of his mouth.
I tugged them on, rubbing my arms against the chill to the room.
Had the power gone out?
The house was cold and the unnatural quiet that only came with a ton of snow. I gave the dog one last kiss on his nose before I stood.
I grabbed my sweatshirt off the couch and pulled it on before I let him out the front door to do his business. He stepped onto the porch, then looked over his shoulder.
“Go on. Just come back quickly okay?”
As if he understood what I said, he shot down the stairs and into the drifts of snow. I rushed after him, swearing when he disappeared into the white. I darted back inside and stuffed my feet into my boots then hurried back outside to watch for him—making sure it didn’t lock behind me.
We got way more snow than I’d expected.
Heck, I didn’t even know we were due for a snowstorm.
Then again, I’d been pretty consumed with Haven Café’s mural for the last few days.
I hugged myself as I walked to the edge of the porch, delighted to find that it wrapped around the house.
I’d only been to the Henderson house a few times.
Mostly because I’d been lured in with cookies and dog snuggles.
I tended to have a bit of tunnel vision when it came to cookies.
Snow drifts had piled up against the rocks and the house in the night and I gasped as a gust of brutal wind blew off Providence Lake.
She was as dangerous as she was beautiful this time of year.
Ice and snow warred with the lapping water.
Beautiful crystals had formed, encasing the rocks in glossy ice.
A flurry of white tunneled through the mounds of snow as the dog struggled his way back up the path from the beach.
Did he have a hiding spot in the trees?
How long had he been out there alone?
He didn’t have a collar or even a hint of one marring his fur like he’d gotten loose. My eyes blurred with happy tears as he tore up the stairs and I hurried around to meet him near the stairs. I crouched to give him kisses and brush away the snow. “Did you have fun?”
His tail wagged as he licked my face.
“We need to name you.” I pushed the fur out of his eyes. “Well, I need to name you. Pretty sure Mr. Porcupine isn’t interested in naming you. Or keeping you.” I dotted his face with kisses, picking chunks of snow out of his fur. “But I always wanted a dog. I’ll keep you. How does that sound?”
He sat down with a plop and his big tongue lolled out.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I stomped my feet. “Let’s go back in.”
He poked his nose against my leg and I took that as a yes. I kicked off my boots and padded into the kitchen, rummaging around for a bowl. Delighted with the serving bowl with a sheep on the side, I filled it with water and set it down.
I crouched beside him as he lapped up the water. I toyed with his ear that was slightly darker than the rest of his fur. “Patches?”
He didn’t react.
“Guess not.”
I took out the last of the chicken I’d set aside and dumped it on a paper plate. “Once Dylan comes by with the plows I’ll get you some proper food.” I set it beside his bowl and he wolfed it down.
After lighting the fireplace, I rubbed my hands against the cold that had settled into the house. I checked the thermostat and gasped that it was only 56o in the house. I boosted it into the high sixties and was rewarded with a blast of air pushing its way through the vents.
Guess we had power.
I wandered into the kitchen. “Where would the coffee be?” I pushed boxes around, removing the sticky note over a number. “Bet that has a spreadsheet attached to it in his phone or something. Not exactly helpful,” I said to the dog.
“How about Falkor? Like the luck dragon?”
His tail stopped wagging.
“Hmm.”
I opened a few boxes and found the rest of his dishes and pretty spectacular cookware. I prided myself on my own stoneware and choice Le Creuset pieces, but Dutch had chef grade stuff.
It looked well loved, and not just for show. I set a frying pan on the stove, then dug around in his fridge. He didn’t have much, so I hunted down a toaster and contented myself with some toast and a generous slather of whipped honey.
I perused the shelves in the living room, surprised at the extensive array of subjects. By the time I finished my toast I had an armful of books. He could have outfitted the entire Haven library with his collection.
I spread out the trio of folklore books on the couch, flipping between two of them as my brain fired up with ideas for the tree at the café. I popped up off the couch. “Shit.” I looked around for my phone.
Had I even brought it with me?
I hurried over to my jacket and found it in the pocket—the battery beyond dead.
Jenna wouldn’t expect me in with this amount of snow, but I’d feel better texting her. Of course that meant I needed a charger.
“Where would I find one of those?”
The ghost of a dog followed me, sitting by my foot. I patted his head. “Do you know where I’d find a charger?”
His tail swished on the hardwood.
“Not helpful, but you sure are cute.” I kissed his nose, then padded down the hallway. I peeked into Dutch’s bedroom. He was still sprawled across the bed. He’d pushed down the blankets showing off all that tanned skin.
Mercy, he had a lot of muscles and that tattoo urged me to step inside.
The low groan and restlessness made me back up.
He needed his rest.
Instead, I kept going down the hall to the larger room at the end. My breath caught at the pitch dark walls. Who the hell painted their walls black?
Dutch evidently.
As I stepped deeper inside, I noticed the table…desk? It was old and scarred in a deep chocolate color with fascinating nicks all over it. I traced my fingers around the coffee rings and the scuffs at the edge of the laptop.
I pushed the computer away from the edge and sure enough the trails said it happened often.
A leather journal sat beside the laptop. The urge to open it was overwhelming, but I left it be. I’d have been pissed if someone looked at my journal. Of course mine were more drawings than words, but the privacy was what mattered.
I wouldn’t want my brothers to see the drawings I made of them when they pissed me off. I embraced beauty in all its forms, but allowed myself to let my twisted musings free in there.
Beside the laptop was a jackpot of chargers plugged into a power strip. I plugged in my phone and set it on top of his laptop. However, the little wooden box with dust on it was too much to resist. I lifted the top and was unprepared for the pile of chalk inside.
Then realized the walls were done in chalkboard paint. And a rolling chalkboard was tucked next to one of the bookcases.
I snatched a piece with a delighted laugh. Leaning my elbow on the desk, I drew my new favorite porcupine as if it was peeking out from behind the power strip. Then put a little sign in his hand that said: smile.
I stepped back and looked at the walls.
Who was I to resist such a canvas?