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“Um, sure, we’ll stick with that side of the story. But, to answer you about Thursday night, I texted Mrs. Winslow and asked her if she’d keep him, and she was thrilled to do so.”
I push back, watching the expression on her face when she mentions her dog. “Wait, aren’t pugs supposed to be fat?”
“Yeah, and many are prone to it, but Otis is the fittest pug my vet has ever seen, weighing in at eighteen pounds, which has nothing to do with his eating habits, because the boy can eat. And he’s still a little bit round, though.”
She has so much love for this dog. I can tell in the way her pitch fluctuates as she speaks more of him. “You’re telling me you have a pug with high metabolism?”
This has her chuckling. “I guess I am.”
She moves back, and I’m afraid she’s about to say it’s time for her to go.
“So, tell me, Sandra McDonald, mom to a pug named Otis, what are you doing today?"
“Besides picking up Otis from Mrs. Winslow, not much.” She tilts her head to mine. “Why do you ask?”
“Would you like to do nothing with me? I mean, would youand Otislike to do nothing with me?” I wait for her answer as if I just poppedthe question.
nine
SANDRA
When was the last time I was out with a guy, besides Curtis? He doesn’t count. After my last serious boyfriend, and the breakup to end all breakups, I swore long-term relationships weren’t for me. I’m not a slut but had needs that were physical, without letting emotions complicate them. However, as we walk from Dom’s apartment to mine, hand in hand, I realize there’s more than the physicality of sex. Intimacy isn’t always about the next orgasm. It’s sharing part of your life with another.
“Are you sure you have nothing better to do than take my compact pug with an attitude on a walk?”
The city of Chicago is living up to its nickname as the wind blows my thick red hair all over the place. I rummage for a hair tie in my pocket. Severing contact with him for a second to secure my hair a little better, I grab for his hand again.
“It’s exactly what I want to do, Rosso.”
Rosso. It’s what he’s called me since the day at the lake when I met him. It’s where we shared our first night together,and from then on, Rosso has been his nickname for me. I’m not simply Red to him, and it makes me feel special, as if I’m the only Rosso in this world.
We approach the building, a prewar construction. Meaning it’s old, but has character and security. As the doorman pulls back the door, he addresses me. “Good morning, Ms. McDonald.”
Dom lets go of my hand and reaches his long arms around me, as if telling the sixty-year-old doorman that I’m his. The dominant ass interlaces my fingers with his, and escorts me to the elevator.
Hitting the button for the twentieth floor, I pull from him, my arms crossed, a bemused smile on my face. “Jealous much?”
“And if I said yeah, I sure as fuck am, what would you say?”
What should I say? There’s a lot I should say but part of me likes the possessive flair in Dom.
“I’m not sure, but I’m not dating anyone, so no reason to be a caveman about the whole thing,” I answer.
He stalks toward me and backs me in the corner of the elevator. “You’re seeing someone, Rosso—me.”
“Oh, am I now?” I ask, my hand holding onto the bottom of his shirt and my fingers climbing up his body.
“Yeah, Rosso. You are.”
There’s no question in his answer, but just the finality, as if he decided and it’s the way it’ll be.
The elevator opens, and he tugs for my hand. “What way again? I wasn’t paying attention last time I was here,” he explains, and I point to the left. He’s in a hurry, moving toward my door.
“Here,” I say, and he stops in front of it, and I enter my key code. Before I can open it, he does it for me and pulls me over the threshold of my home. He twirls me around, placing his large hand on my face, his fingers near my head.
“I’ll show you right now what I want with you. And it’s to call you mine, Sandra McDonald.”
I’m a little breathless, but am able to get a coherent answer out of my mouth. “Is that so?” I sass a little more, with the same answer as before.
