Chapter Nine
Spencer
It could not be Monday already. Except it was, and mornings didn’t care about my opinions on the matter.
They just kept happening with the inevitability of taxes and General Patton’s insults.
Crowbar’s truck idled at the curb, across the street from my job, the engine so quiet it didn’t sound like it was even running.
He’d followed me to work without asking if he could, just pulled out behind my sedan and trailed me through three traffic lights and a stop sign I may have rolled through. Prove it.
As soon as I parked, I slipped into the passenger’s seat of Crowbar’s truck, placing Noodles in my lap.
“Gonna hang here for a bit,” he said, toothpick rolling between his lips. “Got some calls to make.”
After a weekend that had involved multiple orgasms and takeout containers scattered across my kitchen counter, Crowbar could hang wherever the hell he wanted.
He could set up camp in the parking lot and charge admission.
My body still hummed from Saturday night, and Sunday had been a repeat performance that left me walking like a newborn giraffe.
Leaning across the center console, I pulled his toothpick out and kissed him, his beard scratching against my jaw.
It wasn’t a peck but a real kiss. He tasted like coffee and the mint toothpaste he’d used at my apartment that morning.
His hand found the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair, and he pulled me closer until the console dug into my ribs.
When I finally pulled back, my lips were tingling and my brain had gone offline as I gave him back his toothpick.
“Behave yourself,” he said, swiping his thumb over my bottom lip.
“You wish.” Twisting in my seat, I kissed Noodles on the head. She licked my nose, tail thumping against the passenger door. “Be good for your dad.”
She barked once, but I didn’t believe her.
Setting her aside, I slid out of the truck, I adjusted my sling and headed toward the entrance. The glitter stars I’d drawn over the weekend caught the morning sun and threw tiny rainbows across the pavement.
I pushed through the door, the familiarity grounding me. Deb was already at the register, looking through paperwork.
“Morning,” I called.
She glanced up, took one look at my sling, and raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me it was that bad.”
“I’m just milking it for attention. Figured a sling might help my dating life. Some guys are into the whole nursemaid thing.” I still felt bad for lying to her. She’d been nothing but sweet since I started. I just didn’t want to explain the truth.
“Uh-huh.” She didn’t believe me, but she also wasn’t pushing. Deb had been managing retail long enough to know when to let sleeping dogs lie. “Light duties today. No lifting anything heavier than a hamster. You’re on inventory in the back.”
“No problem.”
Inventory wasn’t terrible. Clipboard, ear bud, and no customers asking if ferrets made good apartment pets.
I had no clue. Over the weekend Crowbar had outed me.
Said he knew my secret then helped me research the animals in the shop so I could become more knowledgeable. We hadn’t gotten to ferrets yet.
“General Patton missed you,” Deb said, nodding toward the bird perch.
“Liar.”
“Asshole!” the parrot shrieked, right on cue.
“I’m a new man,” I said low enough so Deb wouldn’t hear me. “Gotta boyfriend now. He’ll kick your feathered butt.”
Patton tilted his head, beady eyes studying me. “Boyfriend!”
“Shh.” I held my fingers by his beak, and he tried to bite me. “Sunshine!”
“Sunshine!”
I grinned. Hopefully the word stuck. It now made me determined to clean up his potty mouth.
“Sunshine!”
“Asshole!”
“I’m not giving up.” I grabbed a spray bottle from the shelf and misted the air near his cage. He fluffed his feathers, looking offended. “You’re welcome. Hydration is important.”
“Sunshine!”
I grinned. Maybe he wasn’t as hopeless as I thought. I misted again. The bird made a sound like a dying car alarm, and I took that as my cue to leave before he started throwing sunflower seeds at me.
Deb was watching me with something that might have been amusement. “Told you he missed you.”
“Delusional.” I grabbed the clipboard from the counter and headed toward the back.
My good mood was annoyingly persistent, making me want to whistle or hum or do something equally obnoxious.
Blame the orgasms. Blame the glitter markers.
Blame the fact that Crowbar’s truck was still parked across the street and I could see it through the front window.
I paused, pretending to check the clipboard while my eyes found the windshield. The truck sat there, Crowbar’s silhouette visible through the glass. He was on his phone, head tilted back against the headrest, and even from here, I could see the line of his jaw.
My stomach erupted in flutters.
I was in love with him.
The realization didn’t announce itself with fanfare or dramatic music.
It just settled into place like it had always been there, waiting for me to notice.
I loved the way he carried Noodles on his shoulder.
Loved the way he’d draped his leather cut over me like I belonged to him.
Loved the way he’d paid for urgent care like my broken pieces were worth fixing.
Ken had never fixed anything. He just knew how to destroy.
“Spencer.” Deb’s voice pulled me back. “Inventory?”
“Right. Yes. Going.” I tore my eyes away from the window and headed toward the back.
The puppies were in the back with a partition separating them from the main floor. Eight in all, each one containing a furball. A golden retriever puppy was chewing on a stuffed toy. Two beagles were wrestling over a rope toy.
Clipboard in hand, I popped in my ear bud and pulled up the playlist with upbeat tempos. The beat helped the task of counting kibble bags feel less soul-crushing.
“Morning, everyone,” I announced to the puppies, crouching in front of the nearest pen. “Update on Noodles.”
The golden retriever with a pink collar looked up at me with eyes that were a blend of innocence and chaos.
“She’s thriving. Learned to sit on command, though she only does it when there’s food involved. Can’t blame her. Capitalism applies to dogs too.”
The retriever tilted her head.
“She’s also figured out how to open the kitchen cabinet where Crowbar keeps her treats. He’s had to install a baby lock. Yes, a baby lock. For a puppy. She’s smarter than both of us combined.”
The Pomeranian barked.
Fated mates one night, enemies to lovers the next—reading moods change.
Look up Lokepub on Google whenever yours does.
“I know. I’m proud too.”
Back to the clipboard. I counted the stacks of newspapers in the corner, checked the supply of cleaning solution under the sink, and made a note that we were low on the small-breed puppy formula.
My arm throbbed, a dull ache that radiated from shoulder to elbow. The ibuprofen I’d taken that morning was wearing off faster than advertised. I shifted the clipboard to my other hand and kept going, marking off boxes.
The music in my ear bud shifted to something slower. I hummed along, crouching to check the numbers on my sheet to the actual count of supplies.
Behind me, the back door eased open.
The hum died in my throat. Slowly, I turned my head.
Ken stood in the doorway, one hand holding it open, hazel eyes locked on me with an expression that was too calm to be anything but dangerous.
And in his right hand, held low against his thigh, was a gun.