AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Tray
What a clusterfuck this day had been.
“Trayherne, I’d be happy to contact my people at Princeton and Berkeley if you’d like to enroll at either university. Surely those would be more suitable choices than whatever place you’re considering.”
“Sports medicine? Why not go pre-med if you’re interested in the medical field? Do you want to be some kind of glorified nurse?”
“Tray, pour your father a drink. He’s been stressed out with work all weekend and you’re not making it easier by arguing with him when he only wants to help.”
And that had all occurred after a full day working at the bar. Waiting on the public sucked. Waiting on the public when they were thirsty was even worse.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I gripped the edge of the glass-topped bar in the living room that I usually used for catch-all storage, like most of the other flat surfaces in my place. When my parents came over, however, I set up the row of decanters that made them believe my idea of tossing back a cold one was sipping twelve-year-old Glenfiddich on the rocks.
Who was I kidding that I’d broken away from the iron rule of my parents? I couldn’t even admit I’d sooner drink motor oil than my father’s prized scotch.
Whenever they came over, I hid every relic of my life as a fighter. Not because I cared that they didn’t approve, but because I didn’t want to hear their usual bitching about why I’d choose to participate in such a barbaric sport. My mother loved to examine my latest injuries and tut-tut under her breath, while my father shook his head and muttered about the cruel vagaries of fate that left him with a son instead of a daughter.
Yeah, well, I wished he’d had a daughter too. I also wished I had some fucking balls when it came to dealing with their crap. As much as I told myself I didn’t want to spend time arguing with them, the truth was, somewhere deep inside, I still longed for their approval.
I’d been longing for a while.
A low rumbling bark and a wet nudge against my calf made me glance down and grin. Veyron sat back on his haunches, tongue lolling out of his mouth. As soon as our eyes met, he launched himself at me, planting his paws on my lower stomach.
“Wanna get up, boy?”
His whine was all the answer I needed. I hauled him up into my arms and groaned under the weight—and from the bony back leg jabbing me in the ribs. German Shepherds were not the kind of dog that should be carried around, but tell that to Vey. As soon as he hit four months old in another couple weeks, he would be floor-bound for good.
In the meantime, he was giving me sloppy doggy kisses and making me laugh. At least until my buzzer rang and I sighed hard enough to ruffle one of his floppy ears. “Now what, Vey?” I juggled my wiggling, oversized parcel and headed to the front door. “Yes?”
“It’s Mia. I’m coming up.”
That husky, irritated voice erased my irritation and fatigue as if it had never existed. Even Vey stopped wriggling and slobbering over my cheek. Instead, he stared at me with wise brown eyes, his thick tail thumping steadily against my thigh.
I released the door. “Come on up.”
She didn’t say “thanks” or “on my way” or any of the other usual pleasantries. Not Mia. She’d be more likely to greet me with a punch than a smile.
What the hell was wrong with me that I found that so hot?
“You gotta get down, boy. I need to clean off the dog spit in case she—” I broke off, afraid to even dream. “Just in case.” I lowered Vey to the floor and he flopped over, paws in the air in total doggy defeat.
“Yeah, me too. Bit of personal advice, though. Cover your sac when this one shows up.”
I took a quick detour into the bathroom and soaped my face, finishing just as a sharp rap sounded at my door. Swiping my towel over my dripping jaw, I strode to answer it, unable to hold back my chuckle as she rapped again. Even her knocks conveyed her impatience.
Vey stood trembling at my side while I pulled open the door. I didn’t move, but Vey sure did. Before I could call him off, he’d launched himself into Mia’s waiting arms and assaulted her with an exceedingly wet French kiss that missed her mouth.
I sincerely hoped.
“This is your dog?”
The derision in her tone peeved me more than the hostile flash of her eyes. Hostility I could handle. Insulting Vey? Oh fuck no.
“Yes, this is Veyron. He usually has more manners, but he senses when he’s in the company of someone who lacks them.”
Much to my surprise, she grinned. Flat-out grinned.
