Although at much different levels and for dissimilar reasons.
Chapter Three
Rio gripped the steering wheel of his long suffering, late-model Jeep as he caught highway 50 north in order to connect with Route 285. It was a long drive to Denver, giving Rio plenty of time to think without interruption.
But his mind wasn’t really on the road or his destination. As the miles continued to slide by, Rio’s thoughts kept returning to his little spitfire.
Shit, when did he start thinking of her like that?
Vonnie.
Ever since he’d seen her at the Snowman, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. And that she came back into his life as PK’s sitter? Somehow Rio thought it was kismet, some kind of predestination thing, although he’d never admit to believing in that woo-woo shit out loud.
What was it specifically about her that caught his attention?
She shouldn’t be lingering in his head or his heart. Especially not the aroma of her peach-scented skin he could still smell as an afterthought. Nor the vision of her with that messy multi-colored hair, a rockin’ body and those wide, expressive agate-colored eyes showing her feelings much more eloquently than the words she used.
As it was, the tiny minx was nothing like the women who typically caught his eye. Normally he was attracted to blondes, tall ones who could look him in the eye without having to go up onto tiptoe, eliminating more than seventy percent of those of that hair color—natural or otherwise.
The fact the little redhead only reached his armpit didn’t seem to matter.
Because her spirit was huge, giving the impression she was force to be reckoned with and nobody’s fool.
Fuck.
She wasn’t intimidated by him. And hadn’t ever, not once, given any kinda signal she wanted to jump his bones.
And, for Rio, that was an anomaly.
Because from the time he turned sixteen, he’d seen how girls (and even some women) reacted to him and his developing body. Either they went overly shy, almost curling up into themselves as if overcome by his size and masculinity. Or they were the kind of women who already knew what they wanted, which was to ride him deep and hard. Forgetting their commitments to their boyfriends, their husbands and (fuckin’ worse) their kids for just a hop in the hay with a young, naïve but well-hung hunk who was willing to learn how to do the frickin’ deed. Assigning him the role of a tool, one to be used and forgotten as soon as their itch was scratched.
It hadn’t taken long before Rio realized he needed more, a girl who was neither a doormat nor a once in a while fuck-buddy. But someone who’d satisfy his heart as much as his body. And for awhile he’d thought he found one, until she’d proven to be a fraud of the worst sort.
But that Vonnie, though.
Jay-sus.
She didn’t seem to be either cowed by him, or looking to share an hour together in a rousing game of slap and tickle.
It was as if she didn’t even care what he looked like, because she sure as shit didn’t eye him as other women did. And he remembered how she’d treated him in that parking lot when he’d first met her. As if he was just another ‘Joe-Blow’, some guy with a mouth as snarky as hers, a male who needed to be brought to heel.
That morning though, Christ!
She’d seen him at his most defenseless as he prepared to leave PK behind. Maybe it was because she’d appeared just as vulnerable in her nightwear—those fucking sleep shorts—exposing her muscled and shapely legs, or the thin top showcasing the fullness of her rounded chest, sweetly crafted with sharp nipples straining against the stretchy fabric.
Rio shook his head at the memory.
No, that wasn’t it. At least not the whole of the girl who’d thrown open her door without a qualm as to who was on the other side.
It was the huge spirit that inhabited her tiny form. Yeah, that was the part which had his dick twitching every time he thought of her. All that fire barely contained in one diminutive, very feminine form was something to behold. Vonnie was the definition of spunky, and he liked that about her. From that one meeting at the Surly and today at her apartment where she’d stood right up to him, full of piss and vinegar, completely unimpressed by him or his demands were his undoing.
And the sight of her cuddling his inherited dog against her fulsome rack?
Fuck.
Reaching a hand to straighten the unfolding snake in his pants, Rio looked to the driver side mirror before flicking on his turn signal in order to change lanes.
The little vixen liked his dog and PK seemed comfortable with her. And he wasn’t above letting his pooch provide him with an opening with the vixen.
She’s just your dog-sitter, his mind announced.
But Rio wanted to get to know her, to discover what made her tick. To determine what went on in her brain and heart, what she’d gone through that made her such an enigma. To find the source of her ‘stay away from me’ vibe.
To find out why she frickin’ intrigued him so damn much.
Although he had to admit, he’d always enjoyed a challenge.
But he was supposed to be on Black Ice business. Sent out in order to capture his first client. With the monkey-suit and tie in a garment bag, hung on one of the Jeep’s over-door hooks, to prove it. A seven hour (with minimal breaks) journey, allowing him way too much time to think.
To ponder.
And to wonder ‘what if’, especially with regard to a little hard-headed harridan, with a body made for sin.
Yet with a heart soft enough to take his beloved PK into her everyday world.
*.*.*.*.*
In the minutes after he left, I cuddled and stroked the small dog as I wandered through my apartment, getting her used to my smell and voice. Once she relaxed into me and began to look at the different things I pointed to and described, I gently put her on the floor so she could acquaint herself to her new surroundings.
Although I have to admit, she stayed pretty close to my side never moving more than a couple of feet away. Which allowed me to start digging in the two (count ‘em, two!) bags her daddy had left behind. Seriously? Not that I traveled all that much, but when I did it was never with anything more than one suitcase.
The satchel he’d left on the bar revealed two bowls and a blanket. Which I kinda expected, except they were all in a rather attractive shade of pink—making me wonder how in the hell he’d paid for the shit without losing points on his testosterone card. Running my hands over the thick plush blanket with its shiny black-ribbon border, I glanced down at Pookie only to see her sitting patiently, lightly panting with what I considered her canine-version of a smile. “Did you pick these out or was it your manly master?”
My new furry boarder wagged her tail so hard, her butt slid on the tile.
Shaking the bag, I determined it wasn’t yet empty. Oh! He’d included some kind of placemat thingy (which I assumed was to go underneath her bowls) as well as one of those sock-puppets in the shape and style of a monkey.
Holding the toy out toward her, Pookie shot to her feet before lifting herself to balance on her back legs, her tail wagging so hard she had to hop in place to remain upright. “So I’m guessing this is yours?” I waggled it and watched the tiny dog do a full body quiver. “Is it your special toy or something more?”
Crouching down and offering it, she snatched it from my hand and started doing circles only to come to a complete stop so she could sniff each and every inch of the monkey. “Hey, if it smells different, blame your pops.”
Reaching to the second pack on the floor, I pulled out a leash and some kind of vest (both also in pink and both bedazzled with rhinestones to match Pookie’s collar), as well as a file folder stuffed with hand-printed sheets.
‘Dear Miss James’, read the top page. ‘Enclosed please find a list of acceptable foods for my dog. I have her on a strict diet and expect you to keep within the guidelines as given. Additionally, I have included a list of appropriate activities as well as a schedul
e of her elimination habits. At the back are PK’s veterinary reports should the unforeseeable unfortunately happen while I am away. As you are the dog sitter of choice in Grantham, please keep these on file and as reference for future stays. Sincerely, Desidario (Rio) Ironcloud.’
Holy shit!
Flipping through the papers, I saw they were as he described…lists of his small pooch’s food, poop and urination schedule, how often and how fast to move when walking or playing with her and then the list of her doctor’s visits going back to 2011. “So you’re five years old, huh?”
Stretched out full length on her monkey, the little darling gave me another one of her doggie-esque smiles which I took as agreement to my summation. “Well the truth of it is, kiddo, you eat better than me. So we’re gonna have to hit the store for stuff as soon as I get ready, okay? But I gotta tell you, I can’t cook for shit. Can you live with that?”
My words, or maybe even my attitude, had her moving to my side where she propped her paws on my deeply bent leg, pointing her cute black nose toward my face. Without thinking, my hands reached for her and brought her into my chest for another rub and cuddle, gaining me a lick on the underside of my chin.
Heaven.
And all done without caffeine.
Straightening to my full height, I moved to my coffee-maker. But not before offering her a warning. “Although if you or your daddy think I’m gonna log your potty habits, you both are shit outta luck.”
At the word ‘potty’, I caught a wiggle that wasn’t one necessarily of delight but of need. Redirecting my trajectory, I moved to the sliding glass doors and went outside. “This is it, honey. See the grass? That’s where you’ll do your business when we’re home.” I set her down on the cement of the patio. “I know it ain’t as good as what your pop recommends but I’ll be damned it we’re gonna hit the park in the middle of the night.”
The fact she did her business post haste told me, all was okay.
In fact, in the little bit of time we’d been together I knew Rio’s little darling and I were gonna be just fine.
And with that happy thought in mind, I used my phone to take a pic of PK in my back yard, hunched, struggling as she attempting to expel the expensive, gourmet-prepared food her damned, totally hot and eye-candy worthy poppa had fed her the day before.
‘All is well here,’ I typed into the text box at the bottom of the picture. ‘Tho’ you might want to rethink the diet if she always has so much trouble moving her bowels.’
Yeah, that’d show him.
Nothing like a dog struggling to shit to show a man what I really thought of him.
Although it must be said, I was falling head over heels with his sidekick.
*.*.*.*.*
Rio pulled into the parking lot of the hotel he’d been assigned and switched the ignition off. Taking a full moment to notice his aching backside and the cramp in his right ankle from holding it in position for so long, he decided to check his messages before exiting the car. He’d made good time but only taking time for one-stop at a rest area had taken its toll. He sure as shit wasn’t as young as he used to be and his body more than let him know it.
An email from Max with the particulars of the client he was supposed to meet in the morning—he’d review later.
A text from VMJ, which confused him at first until he realized it was from Vonnie, connecting the initials to the dossier Ryker had pulled on the woman Max’d recommended to watch his dog while away. There was no way he’d been willing to leave his companion with a virtual stranger. And when his mind finally made the link of the initials to the actual girl of the fantasies he’d entertained while driving, Rio’s heart skipped a beat.
That was until he made sense of the pic she’d included.
Fuck!
Leave it to her to send him a photo of his special companion shitting…
His laughter filled the car, resounding against the windows and echoing throughout. At least until he read her message and looked at the pic again.
She was right. PK did appear to be in pain as she tried to do her business.
And that wasn’t cool. But could be explained, since he’d never actually watched as she’d done the deed, preferring instead to give her the same privacy she gave him whenever he needed to hit the head.
Grabbing his backpack and garment bag, Rio strode to the front desk to register, hoping beyond hope the hotel Max’s DB had arranged would be better than any of the other motels he’d visited. And he’d been in a few when trying to find where he was supposed to land and begin the next stage of his life. The civilian-side, which was proving to be a bit of a challenge, much less settle on.
Just like it had after he’d graduated from high school.
When he’d first been at loose ends.
Which is why he’d enlisted in the Army within a week of high school, his goal being nothing less than to become Ranger and he’d done it. Passing the Ranger Assessment and Selection Program (RASP) with flying colors and even a couple of commendations. It’d been eight weeks of sheer hell, but he’d studied and been prepared; worked fucking harder than he’d ever pushed his body before, being as honest as he absolutely could in his psychological tests.
Made some great friends, men who were more like family, brothers even.
People like Max. Though Max’d left the army before he did, they hadn’t lost touch.
Rio thought he’d be a lifer, but after his third tour, he couldn’t do it anymore. Seeing friends, his fucking brothers get killed, maimed or psychologically destroyed one-by-one?
God, no.
No, not for him. He’d seen too much. Done too much.
At loose ends after being released, Rio’d traveled home to Oklahoma to pay homage to his one and only remaining relative…to his beloved Aunt Alma. Only to realize she was working the tail-end of a cancer her body was slowly succumbing to, one that was devouring her bit by bit.
Yet he’d stayed, helping her as much as he could, offering her his strength when she had none…both that of his body and his heart.
Little did he know she’d leave him her house and dog, along with enough money to keep PK in the style to which the tiny beast had become accustomed. It was so like his Aunt Alma to do something crazy like that. Against his better judgment, he’d kept the dog with him a couple of days and then on the third day of becoming an official orphan, he’d bonded with the frickin’ bit of unmanageable fluff.
Couldn’t leave her behind.
Because after too many goodbyes, to losing too many people of his heart, there was no way in hell he was gonna lose another one. Even if she was a fur-baby.
Dropping his backpack on the floor, Rio sat on the large, rented bed and toed off his boots. The ones without the laces of his former military ones, and as he leaned back to lay on the mattress, his mind churning, providing passing images of his present, past and his possible future.
He needed to shut that shit down, to zero his thoughts on one specific point as his therapist advised.
Propping his hands on his chest, Rio closed his eyes and took in a deep, deep breath.
“Just get through the rest of the day, bucko,” he murmured, using the expression his Aunt Alma called him when he’d been a much, much innocent and younger version of himself. “Max believes in you. Even wants you to work for him, which says a lot.”
And on that uplifting thought, Rio drifted off into a light doze giving his body and mind the brief rest it needed before he had to meet his first official client.
Chapter Four
“Okay sweetie,” I said, scooping up the furry critter after slinging my purse and camera bag over my chest, cross-body style. “First we’re gonna go to the park. Yes, we are, you precious thing! ‘Because I’m a photographer and need more snaps to complete a website I’m sure will be a hit.”
Locking up my condo even while holding the little bit of dog closely, I realized I could totally get used to having a companion of the canine variety as I did my daily fora
y into Grantham in order to obtain photos for both my photography business as well as the web-site design thingy I had going.
Yeah, I was one of the creative kind of persons…it was only unfortunate I didn’t really like people, or more accurately, dealing with them day-to-day. With the exception of Diane and my former foster sisters, the rest of Grantham could live their lives without me in it.
But when I captured them and their loved ones doing family kinda shit on film? Yeah. They seemed to like it as much as I did.
The law required me to obtain their approval first though, before I could even line them up in my view-finder. So I had to carry pre-printed release forms as I clicked my way through Grantham, capturing the minutia of my town’s everyday life, it’s smiles and laughter as those people, those families moved on to whatever it was that caught their attention next. It wasn’t a hardship and I’d even learned how to approach them with a smile of my own, using studied words in order to gain their approval.
And on that particular excursion, even Pookie…erm, PK, approved of my moves with either a tail wag or a panting doggie kinda smile as I got them to sign their full approval in order to take pictures, before handing them my business card. One given in the hopes they’d order a full set of prints in different sizes. A bargain at only the low, low price of $99. Before tax and shipping.
But my real goal was the Grantham courthouse.
I’d been there recently to pay off a freaking ticket (for parking on my own damn street when some ass-wipe thought to rest their Audi in my driveway), and had seen the old-time pictures of Grantham in her early years lining the halls.
They’d been good, but not great.
And I knew I could do better.
So standing on the corner opposite the old-fashioned, sandstone building, with the First Bank of Grantham at my back and the portico of the courthouse dead center in the view-finder, I rocked more than a few multiple clicks of my shutter. Sweeping my Nikon D7100 from left to right, and then back again, I both heard and felt the soft ‘arf’ of the little dog I cradled against my chest.
Vonnie: Book Two of Broken Girls Series Page 3
