Chapter 7 Do You Want to Crawl
Do You Want to Crawl
Dom
Taco Tuesday.
It’s the perfect way to start the week with my two favorite girls and enjoy some good food.
When Jasmira hosts a taco night, she doesn’t go halfway. The table looks like a feast. Steaming spiced lime chicken, next to it, a tray of diced tomatoes, cilantro, and diced onions. She has shredded cheese, rice and beans, and a smaller bowl of corn salsa I haven’t seen her make before.
“I see you eyeing my new salsa.” She laughs, handing me three plates and a bowl of sour cream. I set them on the table, pop a chip into my mouth, and grab the tortillas she hands me next.
“I was online looking at new recipes, and I saw a corn salsa recipe and had to make it. The picture looked delicious, and all the colors made it pretty.”
I grab a chip and dip it into the salsa, giving it a try. It's good. The jalapenos are a nice touch.
"Seren! Dinner’s ready!” Jas’s voice cuts through the blaring TV, which is playing an episode of the Heelers chasing a red balloon around the yard.
Last summer flashes through my mind of us bouncing around, chasing our own balloon in my backyard.
I fell into a damn rose bush. The balloon surprisingly survived.
Together we sit at the table, building our tacos layer by layer, chatting about everything, the conversation moving from topic to topic. Mostly because there is a child who’s almost six years old and has the attention span of Nim, maybe it’s why he gets along so well with children.
Seren looks up at me, a bit of salsa on her chin. “Will you help me practice soon for the spring festival?”
I finish my bite, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “Absolutely.”
Jas shimmies her shoulders. “What’s wrong, not interested in my cool dance moves?”
Seren rolls her eyes. "You wiggle your butt too much.”
Jas’s jaw drops in mock outrage as she looks from Seren to me. “I do not!”
I laugh.
“What?” Jas asks between bites of rice and beans.
“Why do you shake your butt all the time when you dance?”
“Oh, hush you—” Her eyes flick to Seren. “You’re both terrible. So how is the shop?” she asks.
“It’s going great—I booked another wedding,” I say, a wide smile on my face.
“Oh, Dom, that’s amazing!” she gasps, eyes lighting up.
“Hey Dominik, Mom is getting us a pet!” Seren announces through a mouthful of taco.
Jas and I stare at one another for a moment. She doesn’t say anything at first, just gives Seren a look that says you can’t be serious.
“First, chew with your mouth closed and swallow before speaking. We don’t want you to choke. Second,” she says, pointing her fork at Seren, “I told you before I need to think about us getting a pet.”
“You can practice with me if we get the fox. You can shake your butt all you want!” Seren is practically bouncing out of her seat.
“A keta? Are you talking about a ketahnsi? Why? Why not a dog?”
Jas rolls her eyes.
“Dogs need walking. I don't want to rely on someone who has to help me with a dog. He or she would be in a kennel all day when I'm at work. Besides," she says, tossing her hand in the air in an exaggerated gesture, “I live in a treehouse, Dom. One case of the zoomies like your caffeinated wolf, and he’d launch right off the fu—the deck. Right off the deck. Maybe we’ll get a cat.” She shrugs. “I haven’t decided.”
My wolf growls. Is she serious? The zoomies? And a cat? I’m not quite sure how my wolf will respond to it. They’re annoying, and a keta has the characteristics of a cat, too. And I don’t get the zoomies.
I’m not sure how many times I’ve watched The Emperor’s New Groove in my life, but for us, it’s a classic.
Seren might miss half the jokes, but she giggles every time the llama rolls his eyes.
As we hit the halfway mark, Seren finally crashes.
Her head is nestled in Jasmira’s lap, and Jas absentmindedly twirls one of her curls around her finger.
"I should get her to bed,” Jas whispers.
“Want me to do it?”
She shakes her head, a soft smile curving her lips. “I’ve got her.”
I sip my wine, letting the movie fill the quiet. The floorboards creak as they make their way down the hall.
When Jas returns, she collapses onto the couch with a groan, propping her feet on the coffee table.
“What's wrong?” I ask when she winces.
“My feet are killing me.” She lets out a small groan, pulling her right foot into her lap, rubbing through her sock before switching to the other.
I pat my lap. “Here, let me.”
She whips her head toward me, brows shooting up. “My feet? You want to massage my feet?”
“They’re just feet, Jas. You want relief, or do you want to crawl?”
My wolf growls. Why—what the hell did I say?
She blinks at me, studying me, and after a split second, I realize how it probably sounded.
“I meant, you don’t want to hobble all over the place, right?”
The corner of her mouth twitches as she shrugs. She props a pillow behind her, stretches out, and rests her feet in my lap. My hands settle on her ankles, working my way up to the arches of her feet, thumbs pressing lightly. She sighs, and my fingers continue to knead slowly.
“Goddess...” she murmurs. “This feels amazing.”
Her eyes flutter shut. The low, breathy moan she lets out stirs something in my chest. Surely, it's only because I’m happy she’s relaxing and allowing herself a moment to rest. That’s all.
I massage the ball of her foot, then switch to the other, working out the tension I find there. "Long day, huh?"
She opens one eye. “Extremely. I ordered a few new ingredients, updated the menu, and Blythe helped me organize everything before dashing off for a school exam.”
“What are the new ingredients for?”
“Blended iced teas—spring themed for Kerathea and Sateathea!” Her eyes sparkle. “I want about three drinks with different colors and flavors.”
Her voice rises before she lowers it to a whisper, shushing herself as she giggles. Her hands wave animatedly as she talks about her new project. Her whole face changes as if someone lit her up from within. I love seeing her excited like this.
I listen while I massage, moving my fingers along the arch of each foot. “I’m sure they’ll be a hit.” Her head falls back against the couch arm, a sleepy smile on her face.
“Dom?”
I release her foot and reach for the other one again. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, but…” She nibbles on the corner of her bottom lip. My eyes can’t look away from it. My body tingles at the taste of her nervousness.
“I have a date next week.”
My attention snaps back to her face. “Who’s the lucky guy?” Of course, he’d have to be a fucking lucky guy. I mean—it’s Jasmira.
“His name is Bernard, and he’s a warlock.”
“Ber—”
“Don’t!” she whisper-shouts, her eyes go wide as her hands fly up to cover her mouth. Her shoulders shake with the laughter she’s trying to keep in. She folds her arms, eyes narrowing at me. “Be nice.” She flexes her foot as if to kick me, and a knowing smile curves her lips.
“Bernard,” I hum. "Strong name. Is he a lawyer? Doctor?” She’s so fun to tease.
“He’s a dentist, and he seems nice.”
She crosses her ankles. I uncross them, continuing the massage.
“So, what’s up?” I know something is weighing on her.
“I don’t know if I want to have dinner with him. I was thinking of maybe having lunch. That way I don't have to worry about finding a sitter, and I don't have to get all dolled up, only to find out he’s not a second date type of guy."
“I get it. Do lunch. It’s your choice. See if Blythe can cover for you for a bit. Plus, the café won’t be too busy, and Seren is at school. You won’t have to find a sitter no one is available. Just text someone when you get there so we’ll know you’re safe.”
She has to stay safe.
“Okay,” she says, her lips curving into a smile. “We’ve talked a few times, and we did a video call too. He’s funny, he doesn't try to flirt using teeth puns, I give him points for that, and he likes kids too.”
“That’s the bare minimum,” I mutter, my thumbs kneading her heel.
“Mmmm.” Her limbs soften as her spine presses into the couch. “What did you say?”
“I was saying, I bet you twenty bucks the first thing he is going to compliment is your smile.”
She laughs. “Oh, really?”
I try to play it off. “I’m just saying, if this guy’s smart, it’ll be the first thing he sees. If he doesn’t,” I say, shrugging, “he’s really terrible at his job.”
Her laugh is low and warm. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re dodging my bet.”
She nudges my leg with her foot.
“Fine, but I’m not letting you jinx my date.” She twirls a curl around her finger. “Besides, maybe he’ll compliment my eyes.” She flutters her lashes, pouting her lips.
“Yeah, he could,” I murmur.
Something flickers between us. It’s cautious and unspoken, and I know—I know she felt it too.
Her laughter softens into a gentle smile.
My throat tightens as I ignore the heat creeping up my neck, licking my skin.