“Marisa I think is her name. She drove down from Seattle today,” he adds.
I tip up my chin at her to get her attention. “You got a name?”
She cocks her head at me, annoyance dripping off of her. “Marisa,” she says, in a dry, dead voice.
“Son, what did I just say about being nice?” my dad chastises.
“I’ll work on it,” I tell him and then hang up the phone.
Marisa’s back is to me, and she’s squatting in front of Goose. “And what’s your name, handsome?”
Thank God it’s dark and she’s facing away from me, effectively hiding the smile I almost let slip. I’ve never heard a baby voice quite like that one. Sugary sweet, yet husky.
“His name is Goose.”
Ignoring me she extends her hand out to him. “Shake,” she commands, and he puts his paw out to her. “I’m Marisa. That grumpy man gave you such a terrible name, didn’t he? Naming you after a bird.”
Something south of my belt twitches at hearing her baby-talk voice. Christ. Now I feel like a pervert. One more reason I don’t need her around.
“He’s not named after a bird. It’s from the movieTop Gun.” Not sure why I feel the need to elaborate.
She stands, dusting off some of the sand still stuck to her. “Never seen it.”
Who the hell hasn’t seenTop Gun?
I remain silent, the awkwardness growing with each passing second.
Her smile is devious as she walks closer to me, invading my bubble of space. She cranes her neck up at me, all doe eyed and smug. “Satisfied?”
“Mildly,” I retort, slightly distracted by the vanilla smell coming off her.
“Well, now that we have all that sorted out, I’m going to go back inside and try to find something to eat.”
She walks to the cottage. Her hand glides along the railing as she takes the front steps up to the door. Before going in, she pauses and looks over her shoulder at me. “I will be expecting an apology from you for ruining my dinner and for being a total ass about this.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” I mumble.
Her lips purse, eyebrows raising. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” I shrug. I doubt she heard me, but she knows it was something smart ass.
“Maybe tomorrow, after you’ve had some much needed beauty rest, we can try this again.”
“Try what again?”
“Meeting.” Without giving me a moment to respond, she’s inside, the door slamming loudly in her wake.
Goose looks at me with disappointment.
“Yeah, yeah,” I whisper to him as I gather the gas station food still lying all over the place. “I’m an asshole, I know.”
CHAPTER 7
Marisa
A TOOTHPICK INTO A LOG CABIN
Ican do this. I’m calm. This isn’t weird at all.
