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“You said he was your puppy.”
“That would be correct.”
“Your puppy?”
Elliot’s face stretched with a wide, unwavering grin as he told Wentworth what had happened. “So if you could—”
“I left the moment you first asked. I’m already halfway there.” A pause, quieter. “Honey’s been yours all along.”
“Well . . .”
“It’s true. I see how you take care of him, how much you protect him, how much you love him.”
Elliot closed his eyes, grin softening to a smile.
“I’m happy for the both of you. I’m happy to help out any way I can.”
“I’m glad you said so, Wentworth, because I need you to break in to Mary’s house.”
Wrinkles, rankle
A bang for your buck
Use this
You’ll be good enough to—
W. McAllister, Creamed Facial hydration jingle
Wentworth’s breath whistled down the line. “You need me to what?”
“You sound so shocked.” Elliot leaned back on the picnic bench, veins thrumming with every traded word. “I’m calling from a holding cell, remember?”
“You havnae learned your lesson if you’re still abusing your powers of persuasion.”
“Don’t worry, you shouldn’t land in any body of water. Although . . .”
“Although?”
“There’s a sink right under the window I’m asking you to break into. But I’m sure it’s drained.”
“I thought you said Mary gave her consent to take Honey?”
“Yes, but I have her key on my keys and my keys are here with me. So.”
“Then I’ll catch a cab to her work and grab the keys off her.”
“It’ll take an hour there and back and I hear him whining in the background. You’re there already. You can’t leave again.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Wentworth muttered. “If I get caught with my arse hanging oot the windae . . .”
“Then you’ll join me in my cell. How cosy.”
A snort.
“I’m at the porch, now what?”
“Really, it’s like you’ve never broken into a house before.”
“Elliot!”
“What do you do when you lock yourself out?”
“I call the key man.”
“The locksmith.”
“Is now really a time to debate fuckin’ linguistics?”
“I’d hardly call that a debate.”
Wentworth grumbled and Elliot could easily picture him shaking his head, trying and failing to hold back a grin.
Elliot gave him directions to skirt around the side of the house to the kitchen.
“How do I know where the kitchen is?”
“You peer through the windows—don’t ever lose your day job, Wentworth.”
“I hope you never lose your day job.” The faint crunch of gravel sounded down the line, then stopped. “Gah. That’ll be Mary’s sex dungeon.”
“Sex—she doesn’t have a sex dungeon!”
“Well there’s some kind of swing—”
“That’s an omni swing! For yoga. For her back pain.”
“Yeah, the imagery doesn’t improve by much. Ah, here’s the kitchen.”
Through his laughter, Elliot spoke, “It’s got a broken latch, so you can push up the frame.”
The sound of shuddering timber followed.
“And now climb inside.”
“How about I lure Honey to me?” Wentworth whistled.
“Won’t work. Mary shuts him out of the kitchen. You’ll have to go in.”
“This is a very small window, Elliot.”
“It’s a pretty one. I love the stained glass.”
“And I’m a very large man.”
Elliot couldn’t rein in his huff. “You’ve penetrated tight spaces before, so.”
A laugh. “I’m putting you in my pocket.”
And I’m absolutely not imagining that . . .
Elliot smirked at every grunt and every Elliot! followed by some cursing.
“In. Now I need the back rub.”
What Elliot wouldn’t do to give him one.
Humour faded as reality charged forth. She’s found true requited love at almost first sight.
He had Louisa for giving him back rubs.
“Got him.”
Delighted yips sounded in the background and Wentworth’s voice jumped a few octaves as he greeted the pup. So much joy in that welcome. Honey loved Elliot, but Elliot wasn’t so sure he didn’t favour Wentworth more.
Elliot couldn’t hold that against him.
“You can set up in my place,” Elliot said, “There’s a spare key hanging up on her key rack by the front door.”
“Should I steal all his stuff?”
“I have everything he needs at home. No wait, grab his eye medication from below the sink in the bathroom.”
“Will do. Anything else?”
“Thank you, and—”
“And?”
Elliot sat forward, digging his elbows into his thighs and grimacing. “You can take Honey to Louisa’s if you like. Though, he’s still working on potty training.”
“He’s getting better. Louisa will love seeing him. Her cat, not so much. We’ll see. She asked about you yesterday, Elliot. She misses chatting.”
“I’ll, uh, you’re right. I’ll call. Right now.”
“Sounds good. Aye, Honey?” Kissing noises and cheerful yaps followed.
If he could trade places with Honey, he absolutely would.
“All right,” Wentworth said. “I’ve got this. You call Louisa.”
Elliot didn’t get a chance to call Louisa.
Brandon wasn’t feeling one of the intimate scenes in Cameron’s script, and Cameron agreed it needed reworking, and Elliot ended up in Cameron’s boyfriend’s dad’s gothic-style farmhouse helping him brainstorm how to introduce more emotion into the moment.
Reworking the scene was the most fun he’d ever had in his job. Period. He’d been surprised when he looked out the window to find the sky had darkened.
