AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He glares at me.“How’s that?”
I shrug.“Well, if it’s the same squirrel, it’s probably just crazy, not rabid.If it were rabid, it would be dead by now.”
“How do you know how long a squirrel can live with rabies?”he asks as I turn toward the stairs.
“I don’t,” I toss over my shoulder, “but I’m feeling optimistic.Go.Watch Chase.I’ll take care of this.”
He says something else, but I’m already trotting down the stairs, mulling over my containment strategies.Figuring I’ll want to have a herding instrument of some kind, I stick close to the wall as I pad through the living room.The squirrel doesn’t seem to notice me.He’s moved on to rubbing the plastic goat on his belly in a way that’s disturbingly human.He reminds me a bit of Chase when he’s playing with his sea creatures in the bath.
But Mr.Nutty isn’t a little boy or a pet, he’s a wild animal, so I shouldn’t feel bad about arming myself—just in case.
I locate a tennis racket in the hall closet, cursing as half a dozen other things tumble out onto the floor as I pull it free.But the mess will have to wait.I have to get this rodent back in the great outdoors and breakfast on the table in the next ten minutes or I’ll be late to drop Chase off at daycare again.
Bracing myself for battle or rodent tennis or whatever is about to happen, I move cautiously back into the living room.Climbing quietly over the couch, I step down beside the coffee table, my heart hammering in my chest as Mr.Nutty spins to face me.He squeals, I squeal in response, and the next few seconds are a blur of flying plastic animals, crumbling Legos, and me whipping my racket around in a way that I’m sure is doing nothing to intimidate the squirrel now racing across the room toward the dining table.
“No, not my table!”I shout as it leaps on top.“You’re dirty!”
It barks at me as if to say, “I’m not dirty,you’redirty,” and races across the table, leaping off the end and booking it into the kitchen.
I give chase, racket clutched tight in both hands, and make it into the other room in time to see Mr.Nutty disappear into a narrow space between the stove and the cabinet.“No!No, don’t, I—Shit!”
I drop down onto my hands and knees, peering under the stove, half certain I’m about to be attacked, horror-movie style, by a squirrel lunging out of the darkness to hump my nose.But there’s no sign of movement at the front of the stove, and I can’t see well enough to peer into the darkness where he vanished.
I stand and hurry to the junk drawer, where I find the tiny flashlight that the bank handed out to Trick or Treaters last Halloween.Dropping back to the floor, I shine the light into the narrow passage, but there’s no sign of my furry intruder.
“It probably climbed in through an exhaust vent,” a deep voice says from the doorway, making me squeal again.
I sit up, pressing a hand to my racing heart.“You scared me.”I look up to see Aaron, now dressed in sweatpants, but still no shirt, holding Chase with his good arm.My first thought is that he looks sweet (and sexy AF) holding my baby.The second is that he’s going to damage himself worse than he’s damaged already.
I hurry to my feet, moving toward them.“You shouldn’t be holding him.You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” Aaron says as I ease Chase into my arms.“And I’ll get this taken care of while you’re at work.I’ll call a pest control place and get a cleaning company in to scrub every inch of the house, anything a squirrel might have licked, nipped, or humped.”
“What’s ‘humped’ mean, Mommy?”Chase clings tight to my shirt, clearly not wanting to be put down with a squirrel still on the loose.
“Nothing,” I say breezily.“Aaron meant jumped.Things the squirrel might have jumped on.Like your blocks.”I take a beat, pulling in my first deep breath of the morning.“Now, we need to get ready for school and work.How about an apple bar for breakfast?You can eat it upstairs in my room while I get dressed.”
He sticks his tongue out.“Yucky.I don’t like apple.I like pumpkin.”
“I know, but they only have the pumpkin kind in the fall.I couldn’t get them at the store last time, so I had to buy the apple instead.Apple is still good,” I wheedle.“Bunny rabbits love to eat apples and you love bunnies.Like Sir Hops-a-Lot at school.”
Chase looks dubious and his bottom lip pokes out as he says, “I want a smoothie.Strawbaby and banana.”
I’m pulling in a breath to explain that I don’t have time to make him a smoothie, when Aaron’s hand is suddenly on the small of my back.“On it.I see the blender on the counter.I assume smoothie things are in the fridge?”
“Y-yes,” I stammer, distracted by how good his touch feels in the midst of this chaotic morning.“But you don’t—”
“It’s fine.I’ll whip up a smoothie and bring it up to your room when it’s ready,” he cuts in.“What do you like in it, Chase?Strawberries and bananas and what else?”
“About a cup of yogurt, a splash of oat milk, and a couple squeezes of honey,” I say, torn between gratitude and feeling that I’m taking advantage of a broken man.“But I don’t want you to put your health at risk.You have to stop doing things that might delay your healing.”
“I’m not doing anything to delay my healing,” he says breezily.“I’m great.And I’m not going to hurt myself making a smoothie, woman.That’s ridiculous.But Iwillwant a medal later for braving a squirrel attack in the name of a healthy breakfast.”
“Done,” I say with a smile.“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, holding my gaze in a way that makes me keenly aware of the fact that I’m not wearing pants.“Now go get ready.You don’t want to be late.”
“It’s okay, we’re late a lot,” Chase says, making us both laugh.
