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“You’ve never been in bad shape,” I felt it prudent to point out. “Consequently, I’m sure it’s hard to see what you’re doing to yourself.”
Before Sam could answer, Phoebe came barreling out of the house, a dog on her heels.
“No, sit,” she called back.
The dog ignored her and kept right on running with her, and Phoebe narrowed her eyes. “Daddy, your dog was trying to eat all of your leftover cookies.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “Sit, Beast!”
Beast stopped mid-run, dropped on his haunches, and sat.
I looked over to find Sam glaring at ‘Beast.’ At least I was fairly sure that was the dog’s name.
“Thanks,” Phoebe muttered, hand stacked high with cookies. “I took the ones he didn’t touch. But if you tell Mom, I’m fairly sure that she’ll feel sorry for you and make you some more. You know you like them better warm anyway.”
“Great,” Sam muttered darkly, narrowing his eyes even farther on the dog, who wasn’t affected in the least. “Your mother asked if she could get this goddamn poodle, and I have no fucking defenses when it comes to her pleading. Therefore, I said yes. The dog turned into the worst goddamn dog ever. He doesn’t listen. He eats everything that he can reach on the top of the counters. And he’s an escape artist. I had him in the garage when I left.”
I looked over at the dog and thought he was fairly cute, however, that was about as far as my thoughts went on that matter. I didn’t like animals. And, the reason that I didn’t like them was that they required attention, and sometimes I wasn’t the best at feeding myself. However, a cat had adopted me, so I was having to be extra vigilant to keep the cat fed and watered.
“Here, I swear these weren’t licked. I made sure to leave those.” Phoebe held out two cookies.
They were sealed in a plastic bag, and I wondered if I should chance eating one.
Probably not.
“Um, no.” I shook my head. “But thank you.”
Phoebe looked as if she was going to argue, but Sam snatched the cookies from her hand. “You snooze you lose.”
“Dad!” Phoebe admonished, trying to reach for the bag. “If he doesn’t want them, I do!”
Dad shook his head. “Go get some of your own. These are possibly contaminated.”
I found my lips forming into a small smile as I watched them argue.
Eventually Phoebe won by rolling her lip over in an adorable pout that I might’ve even given in to.
“Fine,” he snapped, thrusting the cookies back at her. “But you owe me. You damn well know that she won’t make me more, and it was probably you that let the dog out of the garage in the first place.”
Phoebe didn’t deny it, which meant Sam was probably right.
“Whatever,” Phoebe muttered. “Love you, Daddy.”
Sam wrapped his arms around his daughter and I chose to walk to my bike.
I mounted it while Sam was whispering something in her ear, and then really thought about what I was about to get myself into.
I wasn’t a touchy-feely person, but the idea of Phoebe touching me was quite appetizing, even if it made my heart race.
Then she was there, standing beside my bike, staring at me.
I held out my hand, guessing that was what she wanted, and leaned forward to allow her room to swing her leg over. Which she did in the next second.
And, all of a sudden, just like that, Fancy was the first person ever to ride on my bike with me.Chapter 7Apart from being financially unstable, nearing a mental breakdown, and being fat, everything is great.
-Phoebe to Pru
Phoebe
I wasn’t sure how this continued to be a thing for us, or why, but I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I wasn’t even the one to initiate the dinner we were currently having, he was.
I’d just gotten off shift and was tired as hell. We’d had three prison yard brawls today, and by halfway through the day, Bayou had pulled everyone’s access to the ‘yard’ and even the ‘common areas.’ Every last inmate was served their dinner in their cell, and I was thankful for it.
There was something in the air tonight that was making life harder than it needed to be.
It’d started with that morning. I’d gotten my truck back from my dad, I’d visited with two cute little babies, and I’d gone home to get dressed for work.
And when I’d started out for work, I nearly rear-ended someone that pulled out in front of me. At the next stoplight, when I could see into said person’s back window and rearview mirror, I saw that it was none other than the woman that set my blood to boiling—Brielle.
The woman that was currently at dinner with us.
Or had been until she’d gotten a phone call and made her way outside.
