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“Send me the bill.” I look at the vet tech who is standing beside us.
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Look, they’re all done now. This is the nature of things. In a perfect world, Cooper would already be neutered, but seeing as how he was rescued recently, he hasn’t been, and, well, as you know, Jolene had to go through her cycle beforehand.” That takes the wind out of Hendrix’s sails, realizing that Coop was rescued and I’m not an irresponsible asshole.
“I really am sorry about that. I’ve only had him for two months. I tried to get him acclimated to a better life before throwing him under the knife,” I tell Hendrix as I take the leash from the vet, holding the harness in the other hand as we take our leave. Something tells me Hendrix needs time to compose herself. I gotta admit, it was fun to see her all riled up. It has me thinking about how she’d be in bed, all that anger being fucked out of her. I bet it’d be fun, that’s for sure.
SEVEN
Hendrix
Today was supposedto be easy: drop Jolene off and go home to scrub the house, because as much as you’d think your house is clean, when your beloved dog isn’t there, you see all the hair in all the crevices, and honestly, it’s been too long since a deep cleaning commenced. That was thrown by the wayside when Jolene lost her virginity in the lobby of the vet’s office. I seriously can’t make this up. And yes, my heart became a bit more endearing after being schooled on how Madden decided to rescue Cooper. I still don’t like him. Honestly, I don’t. You ever just look at someone and decide, yep I seriously don’t like you? That’s Madden to me. Apparently, if you look up petty in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of Hendrix Drake there.
Instead of going home to sit and stew, staying pissed off, I figured I’d take my angry little self to the store, find a great romance read, then hit the coffee shop before finding a bench to sit on. Lured by the thrill of sitting outside, letting the warm sun touch my skin, with a book to get lost in, reality not soaking through. Not that my life is bad or anything, but the stress and worry from this morning are doing my head in. It doesn’t help that I didn’t find anything at the bookstore. It was one of those cases where it wasn’t them, it was me. I can’t settle my racing mind, so I figure caffeine won’t hurt. I mean, I already can’t sit still. Plus, it’s been hours since I’ve dropped Jolene off. There’s not been a word from the vet. Yes, for hours is how long I stayed in the same exact place, searching for the unsearchable. My life is an absolute mess right now, and the only person to blame is me.
I walk intoPerk it Up. It’s not too busy for the time of day. I figure I’ll grab a coffee and a sandwich. I scan the menu on the board for their daily special. I always look at it but never order anything different. I’m a creature of habit here, going after a cold brew with sweet foam on the top and an Italian cream syrup, probably being the weirdest person possible with the pairing of a chicken salad sandwich on sourdough bread. My stomach grumbles just thinking about it.
“Hi, what can I get for you today?” the barista asks. Not sure why she does; we both know I’m a usual here.
“Hey, Steph, can I get my normal?” I pull my wallet from my bag, ready to pay for it.
“Of course. One day, we’ll get you to try the cranberry chicken salad.” I wrinkle my nose. Raisins and craisins do not belong in my salad along with chicken. No thanks.
“Maybe.” She rings me up, and I swipe my card as the two of us chat for a few minutes while everything is prepared, me thinking my day is finally turning around. The only better part would be if I got a call to know how Jolene’s surgery went. I pull my phone out even though I’m wearing my Apple Watch, which would notify me of a call or text, but maybe there’s an email. God, I’m obnoxious. If I were ever to get pregnant, have a child, and leave them with a babysitter who wasn’t my mother, could you even imagine the nut job I would be?
“Here’s your order.” I glance up from my phone for a second, grabbing my coffee and the to-go bag. Steph knows I’m not staying to eat today. I usually have my laptop bag on those days, and it’s not with me.
“Thanks. See you again soon.” I’m on a mission but am getting sidetracked by a work email. There are a couple that need a response, which means I’ll need to call Journey once I’m settled with my food outside.
I look up, knowing what will happen if I stare down at my phone while walking. It’s asking for a broken nose. Been there, done that. Well, almost. Let’s just say I had a black eye instead, and that was not fun. It wasn’t awesome to explain that I walked into my closed sliding glass door. I don’t know why I thought it was open. The only person home at the time was me.
My eyes are wide open, mouth wrapped around my straw as I take the first sip of sweet sugary goodness with an undertone of coffee. Sue me. This isn’t my first cup of the day. That one has to be strong. This one? Not so much. The door opens. I finish taking a sip of my drink right when I realize the person in front of me, who I thought was being a gentleman is doing what I least expect.
“Watch out,” I barely get out. I try to side-step as he does the same thing, but we get lost in the fray and slam into one another.
“Son of a bitch.” recognizing that voice, my eyes close, feeling the cold wetness soak through my clothes.
“Madden, I swear to all things holy, if you’re stalking me, we’re going to have problems by the name of a restraining order.” I take a step back, wearing most of my drink, pissed as hell because what a waste of time and money. Time is one thing; money is another. Not to mention the fact that my white cotton shirt is currently giving Madden a free show, literally. My nipples are pebbled from the cold drink, and my shirt is sheer without being wet, and the spilled coffee on the light-as-can-be cotton jersey material really doesn’t help.
“You really think highly of me, huh, Hendrix?” he asks, but he’s already grabbing the crushed plastic cup out of my hand, tossing it in the trash while pulling some napkins out of the holder. “Come on, I have a shirt in my truck you can wear.” That doesn’t stop him from licking his lips, eyes glancing from my eyes to my chest then back up again. Plus, the annoying ass of a man isn’t giving me an option as he wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me along the way.
EIGHT
Madden
“Madden,stop. I don’t need your stupid shirt. And maybe you aren’t a stalker, but come on now. It seems like every time we randomly meet, you’re wreaking havoc on my life.” She tries to put the brakes on as I walk her to my truck. Like I’m going to kidnap her. This woman is a damn trip.
“You going to walk around showing off your tits all day? Gotta admit, they’re sweet, I’m not sure you want them to be out in public too long.” I don’t look back, knowing if I do, I’ll be the one doing the looking. And judging by the bag she is holding tightly in one hand, it’ll be me she beats it with. I got a good look at her at the vet clinic: long hair brown mixed with some blonde, seductive eyes in the form of a deep chocolate color, lips that are full and soft. She’s a mind fuck in any way of the imagination. That doesn’t stop me from taking a look at her each chance I can. She's usually in a sports bra, leggings, and sneakers from her hike, and today is no different, except she’s wearing a shirt to cover her upper body.
“Shut up, Madden, shut the fuck up before I scream and attract the wrong kind of attention in the form of the cops.” I stop in my tracks, turning my head back to really look at Hendrix. Her cheeks are flushed, and I’m not sure if it’s from giving her a compliment about the killer racks she’s sporting or if this is Hendrix when she’s spitting mad.
“Go ahead. While you’re at it, you’ll garner the attention of every fucking human around you, male and female, or you can quit dragging your sweet ass and follow me to my truck, where I’ll grab you a shirt before I take you back inside to repay you for the shit my dog and I have put you through.”
“Fine, but make it fast.” I don’t bother to respond with another retort. Seems when it comes to Hendrix, pissing her off is the one thing I’m good at.
“I’m pretty sure no one has ever asked me to make it fast before.” Fuck, this woman is going to have me tied in all kinds of knots in order to right every wrong I’ve seemed to committed. It wasn’t like I purposely set out to be a dick.
“You’re kind of cocky, you know that?” Hendrix mumbles louder than she realizes. The girl has no filter, is a little bit dramatic, and a shit ton of crazy. That’s where I draw the line. It’s one thing to think that a woman is certifiable, but another to voice that opinion. I learned that lesson all too well when my dad uttered those words to my mom in the middle of an argument. It was a normal night. Both of them worked long days. Mom came home to cook and clean. Dad worked in the yard on the weekends. She’d had enough, and he said, ‘Don’t be a raging lunatic just because you refuse to ask for help.’ Forest and I cleared the room so fast. Mom bellowed, and they had a full-fledged disagreement. We stayed away and busied ourselves to help calm the storm.
“Now, that I’ve been told before.” We reach my car. I let her wrist go, ignoring the way I liked how her soft skin felt against the palm of my hand.
