Page 22 of Carver’s Craving

Carver sat on the couch—bookended by pooches.

I grinned. “Are they ready to go for a walk?”

He chuckled. “Uh…no. We’ve been out. They’re crack-of-dawn dogs. I’m up at that time during the week, so we keep the same routine on the weekend.”

“Drat. I missed their walk.” I was surprised at how much I’d been looking forward to that.

Carver rose. “On weekends they get a long stroll at noon. Then we do walk on the side of the road.” He scratched Walter’s ears. “You be good, okay?”

The dog blinked.

“And make sure she doesn’t get into any mischief.” Carver gestured to Poppin.

Who stuck her nose in the air.

“She’s a mischief-maker?”

He shrugged. “She’s not bad. Got into some trouble when she first came home with me. We’ve come to an understanding, and all’s been good since then.” He didn’t elaborate and instead headed toward the front door.

I followed and when he handed me his spare coat, I put it on. He was right, of course—my leather jacket wasn’t designed for cold weather. It looked cool. But that was about all the thing was good for.

We emerged into the morning facing a bracing wind and cloudy skies.

“They’re predicting snow tonight.” Carver hit the disarm button, and the car’s lights flashed.

“Feels cold enough for it. Probably a good thing I’m not hunkered down in Baxter’s van.”

“Oh?” Carver slid into the driver’s seat while I did the same on the passenger side.

“Yeah. No heat when it’s not running. Well, we share body heat. His damn keyboard takes up the other bunk.”

Carver blinked. “Oh, so you and Baxter—” He made some kind of weird hand gesture.

I squinted. “No. Actually, we didn’t on this trip. I guess we were too tired or something.” I rubbed my cold nose as Carver drove down the driveway. “Actually, not for a while before that, either. We’re, you know—”

“Fuck buddies?” He turned onto the street.

“Well… I guess. But there hasn’t been as much fucking, you know? Just—” I had to consider. “We were tight before Arlene came along. Then she left, and we were just getting back to that place when Frank died. Since then? Yeah, not so much.” Which made me sound all kinds of flaky. “That didn’t come out right.”

“Oh, I’d say it came out accurately—and that’s all that matters.” He stopped at the end of his street at the stop sign. He checked both ways before turning. “Honesty is important.”

“Sure.” Again, I rubbed my nose. “But that makes me realize I haven’t had much sex in the past year and a half.” Actually…any.

“Ah.” He cut me a quick glance. “Kind of doesn’t work with your rock star persona, right?” He refocused on the road.

“Well, when you put it like that? I’ll say I got way more sex before Frank died and that just sounds gross when I say it out loud.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “But if that’s your truth…”

“It’s the truth. I guess I just hadn’t let myself put that into words before.”

“Sometimes the truth hurts.”

Yeah, it did. I’d done plenty of sex, but little emotional attachments.

More trees. So freaking many trees. “How do you cope with being so isolated?”

“I enjoy it.” If my changing the topic caught him off-guard, he didn’t show it. “I like being away from town. Too many people.”