Dropping the brown and white plaything (who wore a perpetual red smile); Pookie looked at me while doing a little two-footed dance.
“Do you mean to stand there and tell me, you need your freakin’ monkey when you sleep?”
A soft ‘arf’ was my answer, which was accompanied by a quick circle.
Okay, then.
Picking up the dog and her sock-doll, I placed them both in the center of the bed and crawled back underneath the covers—where each of us found our own rest pretty quickly.
When had I stopped sleeping with my bunny? Thirteen or was it fourteen? Although I can remember using it whenever my teenage angst got to be too much and a crying jag was the only way to relieve it. Mr. Buttons had been great at taking on my tears and listening to my moans about how awful life was for years.
Feeling like I’d made some progress on the stuff in my head, I started in on my morning routine.
Holding a wonderfully hot cup of coffee, I looked down into the Pookie’s panting, smiling face. “Your daddy’s coming back today.” Just saying the words made my tummy-tumble as my mind’s eye dragged up a vision of Rio as I’d seen him yesterday. “Yes, he is. And he’s gonna be so happy to see you!”
Her reactions to the way I talked (in the ‘baby-speak’ he’d told me to stop using) were too cute and more than let me know she liked it. Sometimes I’d get the circles of delight or a dance on her hind legs. Other times it was just the front-paw tap step like she’d done in the bedroom last night. Or she’d just stare up at me, panting with shining eyes that I swore was her version of a smile.
And since she liked being talked to that way, I thought I’d try finding a different name for her as her gorgeous owner suggested. Searching for another incentive, I reached for the junk drawer in my kitchen. “I think I have an old tennis ball in here someplace,” I murmured. “Ah-ha!”
“You wanna play, little girl? Do you wanna chase the ball? Yes, you do. I can tell!” Staying in a crouch, I rolled the ball a little ways into the living room, watching as she looked from it to me and back again. “Go get it, Pookie. Go get the ball!”
Deigning to lift her butt off the floor, she casually walked to where my improvised toy stopped. She glanced back at me over her shoulder. “Bring me the ball, PK. C’mon. Bring it back, PK, and I’ll toss it again.”
Daintily picking it up, she carefully made her way back to where I remained crouched on bended knee, her little nails clicking on the tile floor. Taking her time, she dropped the ball and sat down. “Good girl. Oh that’s such a good girl, PK!”
To tell the truth, even using my ‘special’ voice while saying ‘PK’ got no reaction from her. Hmm. She answered to ‘Pookie’ but not ‘PK’, so there had to be something about the original one that was important. Was it the ‘Poo’ portion or the ‘Key’? I tried both, but neither one seemed to be the ticket.
Guess you’re just gonna have to keep trying, I told myself with a mental sigh.
Rolling the ball again, I saw her face follow its trajectory, to the point she had to turn her body to remain watching it. “Okay, Patty. Go get the ball! That’s it, Patty. Bring me the ball! That’s a girl.”
Nope. Patty wasn’t it either, although the little fur-baby seemed to be getting the hang of retrieving the ball and brought it back to me much quicker the second time.
I’d give it one more try then I needed to get dressed and ready to meet the day.
Rolling it a bit faster and farther, I tried ‘Petunia’ but got the same results. “We’ll work on it another time, sweetie,” I told her as I stood and reached for my phone to give her daddy an update on my singular lack of success in Mission: New Name.
*.*.*.*.*
Rio heard the chime of his phone announcing an incoming text, but ignored it just as he had all the other noises his cell had made in the hours he’d been on the road. He was making good time on his way back to Grantham and didn’t want to stop just to check who felt the need to contact him about whatever. There’d be plenty of time for that later, after he picked up PK and made it back to the motel.
Christ, but he was tired; dragging ass both mentally and physically. But then, he hadn’t wanted to sleep (other than the hour or so catnap he’d had in the space just passed Cinderella), using the time instead to make a list of the men he wanted to contact, their contact info and determine the best way to offer them a job.
The unit he’d served with were a proud bunch, so much so he wasn’t quite sure if he should make his initial play as ‘Cloud’ (just an old Army buddy who had an opportunity for them) or as the manager for Black Ice (to let them know his offer was serious as shit).
And if that wasn’t enough to keep his mind busy, there was always the little spitfire, who’d stayed on the sidelines of his mind tempting and taunting him.
With her luscious little body, etched in sweet dips and fulsome curves calling to him. Let other men be a tit-guy, an ass-man or a dude who got hung up on a pair of long legs. For him, it was the total package, the sum of the whole, which got his motor running.
And it must be said, Vonnie’s form was utterly complete in a way he more than liked.
Then there was her sarcastic and (more times than not) funny texts. The woman had an amazing way of looking at things: cynical and skewed, perhaps. But the way she reacted to just about everything jiggled his funny bone.
And he didn’t give a shit what anyone said, the way to a man’s heart might be through his stomach. But his soul?
Yeah.
That’d be in making him laugh. At least, he thought so.
Then there was the sound of her voice when they’d spoken yesterday, and Rio was one of the kinds who were really sensitive to sound. A girl maybe a total 10 looks-wise, with a wicked sense of humor to match his own. But if he couldn’t stand the sound of her voice?
That’d be a big negatory on any sort of bedroom stuff.
His little spitfire though, more than met all his requirements on just about every front.
And found him scheming on exactly how to get her naked and willing beneath him.
She didn’t give off the same vibes as other girls. The ones who let him know it’d take almost nothing to induce them to count ceiling tiles as he plowed himself between their silken thighs.
No, she’d treated him almost…as just another doggie-sitting customer.
As if he was nothing more than a client, with his dog as her only focus. PK was cute; there was no denying that—but what about him? Wasn’t he worthy of notice too?
Most girls got giddy at the sight of him, whether it was his long black hair, thickly-lashed dark eyes or his broad shoulders.
Or even went gaga over his muscled arms and chest, letting him well and truly know the woman was more than willing to bed him with nothing more than a searing glance, a tiny lick of her lips as her eyes roamed over every inch of him.
But not Veronica James.
And the juxtaposition between what he wanted (damn, needed) to do to her, versus how she treated him was a problem he didn’t know how to resolve.
Something I’m more than willing to figure out, he told himself as he pulled into one of the visitor spaces at her condo complex. He used the back of his hand to cover a yawn as he exited his Jeep. Just gather PK and the bags. Then you can rest.
Raising his fist to the wood of her door, Rio pulled back his hand, realizing he had no need to pound against it as he’d done yesterday. So when his knuckles actually met the painted portal he kept it light and within the three-knocks of social acceptance.
The door swung open, showing the spitfire gunning for bear (if the wicked light in her narrowed eyes was any indication) while holding the little dog who held his heart. And that she’d answered so fast, without pause and without calling out, pissed him right the fuck off.
“You’re early,” she started but stuttered to a stop when he picked her up by a quick grab underneath her armpits as he moved her out and away from the doorway so he could enter. The fact P
K gave off a soft ‘woof’ of welcome helped belay some of the accusation in her caretaker’s eyes.
“Yeah, I am.” Throwing the door shut behind him (after he’d moved her and her glorious body out of the way), Rio shot the two locks.
Wait…what?
Only two flimsy locks between her and the street?
Oh HELL to the no!
Turning back to her, Rio saw her mouth work but he wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention, but was considering how to address the next bit. Plus there was no way he could think straight, not with the sight of her and smelling the peach of her skin. So he took advantage in the space when she took a breath, when her mouth was closed (but whiskey-colored eyes narrowed, creased into a glare) and considered the old adage about silence being golden. “You didn’t check your peephole.”
His interruption had the desired effect.
“I didn’t, what?”
“You didn’t check the peephole in your door and didn’t even ask who it was before opening the door.” Rio found her confused look cute, but it wasn’t the time for adding yet another Vonnie-esque mannerism on the ‘Pro’ side of his list of ‘should he or shouldn’t he’. Along the lines of pursuit; a quest he was more than willing to do even if he still didn’t understand the whole of the spitfire in front of him. “From this day forward you will always, and I fucking mean always, check the little spyglass and have any and all visitors identify themselves before you fucking open the damn door.”
She swallowed and had the grace to look at the open door before shooting her face back to his. One that held mutinous thoughts if the movement of her firm, pointed chin was real. “You aren’t my dad, my brother or my boyfriend. Which means you can’t tell me what to do, ass-wipe.”
Too true, he told himself and then glanced down to the wiggling bit of fur she held tightly against her awesome rack. “But you’re responsible for the safety of my dog while she’s in your care, right?”
Her red and green-streaked, capped head dropped as she looked at his dog.
“Yeah,” he heard her whispered, stricken voice reply, but it was only because he was leaning down towards her. A move he’d hoped to intimidate her with, not cause the tremble of fear behind her words.
What was it about the girl that held him fascinated in nothing more than her false sense of bravado and prickly temper that was offset by the damn vulnerability she showed in flashes almost too quick to miss?
Closing the door behind him, Rio took in the flimsy, easily breached deadbolt and the stupid twist-lock of the doorknob. Oh yeah, he had his work cut out for him. That was for damn sure. “So how did it go?”
Never moving from the spot where he’d placed her, Vonnie looked up at him and blinked. “You mean with your fur-baby?”
Rather than roll his eyes, Rio went to her couch and dropped himself dead-center onto the middle cushion, stretching his shoulders and aching arms along its back. “What else would I mean?”
She was having trouble controlling the squirming, wiggling mass in her arms and finally placed the little canine on her feet, one that found PK trying to climb up his pant-leg in order to give him a proper and thoroughly affection doggie greeting. Lifting the fluffy mass to his own chest, Rio lifted the tiny pooch to his lap, letting her know he was just as happy to see her as she was him.
The spitfire however, took a seat on the heavy coffee table, perching on its farthest corner as she watched every move he made. And it wasn’t until PK settled, gladly accepting the comfort of his arms as she offered up the lightly haired skin of her belly for welcoming scratches that Vonnie spoke again.
“W-we got along really well,” the spitfire stuttered, drawing his eyes up to hers. “Outside of the realizing how important Monkey is to her, I think we jelled.”
Fuck! That damned stuffed toy his aunt had bequeathed him in all-things-Pookie, was the bane of his existence. It had taken him two goddamn weeks to realize the fluffy puppy needed that frickin’ stuffed bit of sock to sleep. And it was an embarrassment to realize he hadn’t included that bit of guidance on his instructions, because he was hoping against hope Vonnie could break his dog of that particular habit.
Looking down to PK, he carefully made sure his face and voice showed no emotion. “I want you to break her of that.”
“What? Her attachment to Monkey?”
“Yes,” he growled, bringing his gaze back to where the tiny sprite. “She doesn’t need it.” To Rio’s mind, the Monkey represented a weakness in his dog…and therefore in him, and his ability to provide for the little dog’s happiness.
And if Rio was anything, it wasn’t weak.
Vonnie gave off a short laugh, her eyes looking everywhere but at him.
To say he missed being the recipient of her attention didn’t even cover the half of it.
“I think you’re wrong, dude.” She tucked her hands between her curvaceous thighs. “Once Monkey joined us in my bed, your little princess had no trouble finding her sleep.”
The stirring of his man parts at her words wasn’t unusual as his brain took them into a more personal realm. “Still and all, I expect you to break her of that particular connection. That is, if you decide to take the job of her daytime caregiver.”
The truth was Rio fully expected the diminutive woman to launch herself into his arms, to let him know in no uncertain terms she recognized the benevolence he was bestowing on her in choosing her, and only her, as PK’s daytime care-giver.
But instead, Vonnie leaned forward resting her elbow on her knees, which he saw were because her small feet were canted into a ‘tip-toe’ position in order to provide her a viable flat surface to do so. “I’d like that job. Your dog and I are simpatico and get along great. But the fact of it is…”
Rio waited, hardly daring to breathe while everything within him paused in order to fully catch the next words out of her mouth.
“You’ve got too many rules for me,” she confided on a rush. “I think she’s great and she has no problem integrating herself into the stuff I’ve got going.”
He knew there was a ‘but’ in there somewhere and he didn’t have long to wait.
“But you’re kinda a control freak,” the spitfire admitted quickly, with a lowered gaze. “I mean, I’m down with doing the whole potty-thing. A dog’s gotta do what a dog’s gotta do, right? But to log that stuff? Seriously?”
He swallowed thickly. Somehow he’d known not everyone wanted to pay attention to their own bowels, much less those of a dog. But the condition of a being’s elimination was important in gauging their over-all health. “Anything else?”
Following his lead, he watched as she swallowed equally as deep and hard, but made it special by combining it with a blink. “Yeah. If I’m gonna board the Pook-meister during the week, then we’ll probably need me to keep her bowls and blanket. Maybe have a duplicate set at your place.”
God, she was fucking cute as hell. Even if she was wearing her trepidation openly as she laid out her terms for taking on his dog as a full-time client. Did she argue with all the other owners of the furry ones she babysat with such demands?
“Lose the ‘Pook-meister’ and we might have a deal,” he growled and felt his dick flex at the red he saw creeping up her neck, blooming in her cheeks. It was nice to know she was a true redhead who couldn’t hide her feelings since they were a dead giveaway, coloring her beautiful alabaster skin with every flush of emotion. “Her name, for the moment, is PK.”
She nodded and turned her head away, but not before Rio saw a flash of temper light her beautiful eyes. “I can do that. But, as I’ve already told you…I don’t cook. So the whole specially prepared meals might be a problem.”
Why did he feel like they were having a conversation on a different level, one more personal than what their voices were engaged in?
“I’ll bring her food over daily,” he groused, not feeling ‘groused’ in the least. ‘Intrigued’ would have been a more appropriate word for what was going on inside him. She both
delighted and confounded with her natural, unschooled reactions. “Would that work?”
“Sure,” she finally replied after taking more than a few moments to think over his words. “I can deal with that.”
“Then I guess we’re done here,” he mumbled, scooping and turning PK in his arms as he moved to stand just as her cellphone went off.
Holding up a palm his way, the spitfire stood, quickly dragging her device from a back pocket while holding up a hand as if to stop him from leaving. “Vonnie James. How can I help you?”
Rio yawned again, so big and so deep his eyes watered. Bed was definitely on his future agenda and he was only sorry he wouldn’t have the woman of his desire…the focus of his attention to help take him there after he’d satisfied both their needs in a thoroughly carnal and energetic bed romp.
“Yes,” she mumbled into the phone pressed to her ear as she moved at a fast pace down the hall and into another room at the back.
“Guess it’s just you and me, bud,” he mumbled, yet another yawn punctuating his advice to the tiny dog. Sliding down, he rested his boot-heels on the edge of the stalwart table in front of him, moving PK higher on his chest as his head canted back. He’d just nap until Vonnie made her way…
Chapter Seven
I talked to Mr. Newton, a potential client who was inquiring about the snaps I’d taken of him and his family in the park a couple of weeks ago.
Did I remember him or the rest of the people he’d been with?
Nope, not a lick.
But I was willing to tell a small white lie as I pulled his release from the file and then accessed the photos I’d taken on the Cloud. Yeah, they were good and I was willing to send him the best three of the thirty them (emblazoned with the ‘photo by V. James’ logo that stretched in shadow across the pictures) by email.
I gave him my prices for a full set, which Mr. Newton tried to negotiate (a typical tactic) until he opened the attachments I’d sent him.
Vonnie: Book Two of Broken Girls Series Page 6
