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“Okay, boy. Bedtime.”
Boss went to his bed, and John stripped down to his skivvies before he climbed up to the loft and crawled into bed. He placed his Sig Sauer on the nightstand and stretched out on the queen mattress.
The sheets were crisp and fresh. The ceiling, a few feet over his head, was about the same clearance as their bunks during deployment. Here he wouldn’t have to listen to his teammates snoring in stereo. It was a great, temporary place to stay. He had his dog and a job he loved and was good at. He wasn’t going to let the end of things with Britney bring him down.
He’d provide protection for Ariana, and once J.R. was behind bars, John would gethisfresh start. He breathed in the scent of pine from the trees around them and closed his eyes.
An unfamiliar noise jolted John awake and upright. His head bashed into the ceiling. “Ow! Shit!” He rubbed his head with his left hand and reached for his pistol with his right. Before he could identify the source of the sound, Boss’s face peeked over the top step. “Dammit, Boss. I could have shot you.”
At the sound of his name, Boss scrambled into the loft. Even Boss had to lower his head due to the low clearance.
John returned his weapon to the nightstand. He rubbed Boss’s neck, and they settled down. Hearing only crickets and frogs quickly lulled his tired brain and body back to sleep.
ChapterEight
HERE COMES THE SUN – The Beatles
John woketo the sun streaming in through the skylight and window. His body spooned something warm. And soft. And furry. Damn. Still, better to wake up with Boss than Britney’s cheating ass.
How could she have dumped him for Dicky? Was it his fault for not communicating more? Or was he not the kind of guy her parents wanted for her? He might not have a trust fund or a six-figure income, but he was educated and exceptionally good at a job he loved doing—most days.
He and Britney had a lot of fun together, and it’d felt like it could be love. Though, if he was honest about it, the breakup didn’t hurt as much as he expected. Maybe because she let Dicky dump Boss at animal services, which proved she was clearly not the woman for him.
His head throbbed where he’d smacked it on the ceiling. Sitting up, he didn’t make that mistake again. Hopefully, the knot would be gone before reporting for work next week. If not, his team could ask, but he didn’t have to tell what happened.
He stared at the steps, trying to figure out the best way to get down. He couldn’t sit up straight, much less stand to walk down the steps. Scoot down on his butt like a baby? Back down? He could skip the steps. Turn and lower himself down over the loft’s edge, but he didn’t need Boss deciding to jump.
Boss watched him with big eyes rather than go first.
“Fine. I’ll be the guinea pig.” He bent over and went feet first. He was able to stand once he reached the fourth step. At least he only had to go up and come down once a day. Boss came down headfirst—probably after laughing at him—and went straight to the door to go out.
“Just a minute.” He peeked through the door’s window and let Boss outside. He pulled on shorts and a T before joining Boss. “Had to do that first thing, didn’t ya?” He stared at the fresh pile of crap. “You know this is probably why Dicky took you to the shelter, don’t ya? Though I’m glad you didn’t take to Dicky and have them keep you.”
Back inside, he filled the water and food bowls, then scoured under the cabinets and found a plastic grocery bag to use for clean-up. Once he’d disposed of that, he hit the bathroom.
He sank onto a toilet the size of ones found in elementary schools. It was barely a foot off the ground. With his knees spread, they had about an inch of clearance from the wall. He banged his elbow on the wall trying to reach the roll of toilet paper mounted behind him. Maybe he’d underestimated the challenges of living in a tiny home. Still, it was a toilet that flushed, which beat the months of a make-shift outhouse or digging a hole and squatting. Once he went back to work, though, he might wait to take a daily dump there.
* * *
The solid knockon her front door made Elizabeth nearly jab the mascara wand in her eye. It had to be John. Neither Ariana nor Wren would be up at eight in the morning. She wiped the clump of mascara off her lashes.
Boss barked once as she crossed the gathering room’s hardwood floor.
“Good morning.” She opened the door to John. Boss greeted her with the ever-embarrassing muzzle to the crotch. “Is that a knot on your head?” she asked John as she patted Boss’s head and pushed it back at the same time.
“Uh, yeah. Boss woke me in the middle of the night, and I kinda forgot where I was. Hit the ceiling. No biggie.” John touched it gingerly. “Sorry to bother you this early, but I wanted to catch you before you left for work.”
“I printed off the lease agreement for you.” She stepped aside to retrieve the printout.
“I was thinking of picking up some motion-activated lights to put up around the perimeter of The Oasis. Since I’m off this week, I can put them up as a deterrent in case J.R. comes sneaking around.”
“I had thought about putting some up, but there are so many animals out here, I’m afraid they’ll be constantly turning on.”
“I can try setting them so the smaller animals don’t trigger them and adjust the positions if necessary. If they cause a problem, I can take them down.”
“It’s a good idea.” Something happening to Ariana trumped the annoyance they might create. And John wasn’t telling her what she had to do; he was making a suggestion. “Get what you need, and bring me the receipt to reimburse you.”
“I got it. Consider it payback for caring for Boss.”
