Them (Him #3) (8 page)

“I’m sorry, babe.”

He would have sounded more convincing if he hadn’t been laughing.

He’s not the one with a blue ass.

Somehow, in our excitement, we broke a pen which leaked onto the top of my desk calendar. The one Will sat me on as he went to town on me. I was so turned on I didn’t realize the excess wetness wasn’t from us until we were done and I stood up.

Not only do I have a blue ass, but there are also blue ass prints all over the top of November. Good thing the month is almost over. Knowing my luck, it probably bled through to December. I forgot to check between Will laughing his ass off when he saw mine and spending the last twenty minutes in the shower trying to de-blue-ify my butt.

My cheeks have gone from a deep royal blue to a grayish, cold blue. At least it isn’t summer. My bikini bottoms wouldn’t cover this.

Will leans against the bathroom counter, all handsome and stuff. He’s so annoying. I stick my tongue out at him as I pass him on my way back into our room.

“Still the sexiest ass I’ve ever seen.” He tries and fails to keep a straight face as he says it.

“I should make you wait for sex until the blue is all gone,” I grumble.

At that, he at least pales.

He sits on the edge of our bed as I get changed. “Where are you taking me tonight?”

Rubbing his hands together, he gets that look in his eyes when he’s about to talk me into something. It was the same look he had before he suggested desk sex.

“I was thinking we could head over to the rescue center and pick up a puppy.”

My shoulders sag and I still. “Are you suggesting we get a dog because you think I’ll never get pregnant?”

He stands, crossing the room quickly to wrap his arms around my towel-clad body. “Not at all. We’ve talked about getting a dog in the past. I hate that you’re here all alone while I’m at work. I thought you could use a partner in crime.”

“A substitute baby,” I argue.

His finger slips under my chin, lifting my eyes until they’re locked with his. “We’ve only just started working toward having a baby.”

“I’ve always wanted a puppy,” I admit.

“And I’ve always only wanted to give you everything you’ve ever wanted,” he replies, dropping his lips to mine.

I push him away with a grin. “No funny business. We need to get to the shelter before it closes.”

Hurriedly, I get dressed in some jeans and a comfy sweater. I tug on my boots and pull on my coat once we’re downstairs.

Will drives as I suggest dog names.

“What about Sam?”

“That’s a people name,” Will argues.

“Aren’t most pet names also people names?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Duke, Bruiser, Tank, Spot, Yeller.”

“Yeller?” I laugh.

With a shrug, he turns into the parking lot. The animal shelter is a one-story brick building not far from the grocery store where we shop. I gave him a hard time for suggesting a puppy, but to be fair it’s something we’ve talked about doing more than once over the last couple of years. At first, we held off as I struggled to find a new normal work-wise.

I don’t miss the stress, but I do miss how full my days were back then. I know I started this company, and I’m proud of how well it’s doing, but I’m not used to making money off the actions of other people. I’ve structured my company so efficiently I’ve made myself redundant.

There are plenty of people, I’m sure, who would have no problem sitting back and collecting a paycheck. That isn’t how I’m wired, though. I love the feeling of accomplishment my work used to give me. I miss it. I have no idea if introducing a puppy will fill that hole, but it’s clear that Will hopes it will. I hate worrying him.

Together, we get signed in and follow a volunteer back to where the kennels are. Given the amount of dogs, the room we enter doesn’t smell that great. It’s clean, but I guess there’s no avoiding that dog smell when there are a bunch of them all in one place.

I want to ask Will if he thinks one dog all by itself will smell like this, but the volunteer is standing right there and that would be rude.

“What kind of dog would you like?” Will glances around the room.

“I’m not sure,” I admit.

I was hoping that the perfect dog would somehow get my attention as I passed its kennel. Trouble was all of the dogs were trying to get my attention.

“Maybe we can narrow our options down by figuring out what you don’t want,” he suggests.

“Not too big,” I say, picturing myself being dragged down the street by a giant dog. “And not too small,” I add.

“So a medium-sized dog,” Will teases.

I smirk; he’s so clever. “Yes, a medium-sized dog.”

There are still so many to choose from. It’s daunting.

“Let’s read their info tags.” Will takes my hand and pulls me closer to the first set of kennels. “See.” He points. “Some of them aren’t good with kids.”

We’re able to eliminate a bunch based on that alone.

“What about this one?” I ask, approaching the kennel of a black puppy with a white triangle between her eyes.

“Rascal,” he reads the name on her tag. “They think she’s a rotty-lab mix. That sounds like she’ll get pretty big.”

I hold my hand up for her to sniff and her tongue darts out to lick it before her dark brown eyes hit mine. “I can live with that.”

His arms wrap around my middle as he comes to stand behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “So, is this our new puppy?”

Turning my face toward him, I smile.

The volunteer comes over to tell us about a small play area we can sit with her in, to get an idea of her temperament so we can confirm we still want her before we start filling out any forms. She opens her kennel, and it’s beyond cute watching her get so excited to come out and play for a while. After she clips a leash to her, we follow the volunteer to a small room with a floor-to-ceiling window that looks out into the area we were just in.

“Knock on the glass when you’re ready to come out.”

Will nods as she passes him the leash.

There are chairs in the room, but I ignore them and sink directly onto the floor. “Come here, girl.”

She bounds over to me, topple-hopping onto my leg as she tries to lick my face. Will sits next to me and pets her back.

“She’s so sweet,” I gasp, gathering her up in my arms and giving her a squeeze.

“She’s definitely full of energy. I think she might be a handful. Are you sure she’s the one you want?”

I nod. “She’s perfect.”

He laughs. “Do you want to stay in here while I go fill out the paperwork?”

“Yes, please.” I grin.

Once he leaves, Rascal starts licking and biting at my silver hoop earring. It tickles and she’s set on doing it. I giggle as I struggle to push her down. She relents and is content to lick my hands instead. I pull out my phone and snap a picture of her to text to Sawyer. It’s blurry because she won’t sit still, but it’s still cute.

“Are you going to be my partner in crime?” I ask.

She doesn’t respond, but she does look up at me so I take it as a yes. “And we’ll go on lots of walks,” I add.

The start of winter may not have been the best time of year to get a dog. At least Atlanta is much milder temperature-wise versus Denver, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get cold here. It’ll give me an excuse to bundle up in my warmest clothes.

I continue to play with her until Will returns.

“Is she ours?” I ask.

He grins. “She is. Let’s take her to PetRight so we can get her some food and a bed.”

‘Some food and a bed’ morphed into half of the store by the time we were done. Will laughed as I loaded up our cart, but I wanted to make sure she had everything she needed.

When he had first suggested getting a puppy, I had balked at the idea. I wasn’t sure what his intention behind getting her was and it had made me defensive, which was crazy. Sometimes, a puppy was just a puppy.

Before leaving the store, I put her new collar on and clipped her new leash to it. Will pushed the cart while I walked her. She wanted to sniff everything between the store and our car, and I do mean
everything.
For a little dog, not even ten pounds, she was stronger than I expected, and very determined.

“Hush.” I laughed at Will as he cracked up watching me attempt to corral her.

She sat in my lap on our way back to the house. We stopped for fast food and had to put the bags in the back seat so she’d stop sniffing at them. Knowing where the source of good-smelling food was and not being able to get to it frustrated her. She struggled in vain to make her way into the back seat.

Our back yard is fully fenced, so I let her run around back there as Will and I carried everything in from the car. Even though she had all that space to roam, she stayed right by the gate and whined. It is irrational how devoted I already was to that little bundle of fur and how hearing her cry broke my heart.

“I take it I’m going to be the bad cop,” Will noted, frowning at me.

“Huh?”

“I can tell. Our little girl does something bad, I’m going to have to be the one to train her.”

I gape at him. “Rascal would never do anything bad.”

Since everything is in the house, I walk over to the back door to call for her. It’s dark out, Daylight Savings ensuring we lost an hour of light in the evenings. I could hear her approach but the sound stopped at the stairs to our deck. Flipping on the outdoor light, I walk out to investigate.

I find her sitting with her front paws on the first step and the most pitiful expression on her little puppy dog face.

“Oh, honey,” I coo, hurrying down to scoop her up. “Somebody doesn’t know how to climb stairs yet.

As I close the door behind me, I’m surprised by how much Will’s already set up. Our dinner still sits in its bag, but Rascal’s new food and water dish have already been washed, dried and set out in the corner of our kitchen on the cute mat we bought for them. Both are full, so I set her down and show them to her in case she’s hungry or thirsty.

Will isn’t in the kitchen, though. Glancing around, I spy his bent-over figure in the living room, putting together the crate we bought her.

“You don’t need to do that right this second,” I tease, walking over to comb my fingers through his soft, brown hair. “Let’s eat.”

When he looks up at me, his expression so impossibly boyish, I melt. I’m staring at the boy I fell in love with all those years ago. Sinking onto my knees next to him, I cradle his face in my hands and kiss him.

His hands drop the side of the crate he was working on as he moves them to band snuggly around my waist, deepening our kiss. We’re interrupted by an excited puppy, who wants to play, and I leave them both to go collect our dinner. They’re still roughhousing when I return.

Setting our plates on the coffee table, I ask Will what he wants to drink.

“I’ll grab drinks,” he replies, standing up.

Rascal trails after him, attempting to chew on the bottom of his jeans with each step he takes. We’re sitting back, TV on, new puppy chewing on a toy, when Will’s phone rings.

He frowns at the caller ID and mutes the TV before answering. I can only hear his end of the conversation.

“Hello.”

. . .

“This is William Price.”

. . .

“He’s one of my students.”

. . .

He drags his hand over his face. “Where were they taken?”

. . .

“How bad is it?

. . .

He stands, weary eyes finding mine. “Yes, I’m on my way.”

As soon as he ends the calls, he turns to me. “Logan, you know, the kid who eats lunch in my class.” I nod. “He and his dad were in a car accident.”

“Are they okay? How did they know to call you?”

“They wouldn’t say over the phone, so I’m not sure. Maybe Logan had my number in his phone. I gave it to him a while ago.”

I nod, standing. “Do you want me to come with you?”

He reaches out, his hand gripping me by the back of my neck as he kisses me hard.

Too soon, he pulls away. “Stay here with the puppy. I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”

I pick up Rascal to keep her from trying to follow Will as he shrugs on his coat and then is out the door. Once he’s gone, I flip the dead bolt as she licks my neck. The silence is comforting as I pray for Will’s student and his father. I’ve never been overly religious. I don’t pray regularly, or maybe I do without calling them prayers or addressing them to God.

I sink back down onto my sofa, where moments ago I cuddled with my husband in our new puppy glow. In moments like this, when life pauses to remind us how fragile it actually is, I think of my family and friends.

Rascal is distracting but not enough. I catch myself checking my phone over and over again as I wait to hear news from Will.

Will

When I get to the hospital, no one will speak to me. I’m not family. As far as I know, the only family around is Logan’s grandmother and she’s in poor health. Trying to explain to a hospital administrator that the only reason I’m here right now is because someone from there called me is equally frustrating.