by Sosie Frost
She hissed at him. “I warned them about the birdfeeders. I had an ordinance and everything.”
“I remember. Believe me, I remember.” Julian’s voice was hollow. Apparently, he’d had this conversation before and narrowly escaped without PTSD.
Raymond continued with only a moderate slurring of his words. “She started with one birdfeeder. Pretty soon it was two. Then three. Now it’s twenty or more.”
Dave frowned. “Now you got a problem with birdfeeders? You got a problem with freedom too?”
Raymond swore. “What’s going on in her yard ain’t by the grace of God good for the health of this community. She’s got birdseed layered on top of birdseed. Can’t even see the grass anymore. She’s takes a snow shovel to a twenty-five-pound bag of birdseed and spreads it over her grass like it’s peanut butter on toast.”
Sounded like Butterpond.
“Now the neighborhood is crawling with animals,” he said.
Becky screeched. “Don’t you take my babies from me! I get enough of that from CPS!”
Raymond hollered. “All that seed has brought more animals into the yard. Rats!”
Tidus encouraged him. “Rats?”
“That’s right. I found a dozen of them tangled in my yard yesterday. All runnin’ away from her house.”
Tidus couldn’t help himself. “What were they running from?”
“All those goddamned cats.”
Cassi groaned, but my brother liked to rile up the meetings. “So, there’s rats and cats?”
Ray nodded. “Feral cats. Angry ones. All coming up to eat the mice that are eating the birdseed. Got a dozen cats setting up a colony in my backyard. Someone scared them off the damn fairground, now they're in our neighborhoods.”
Julian flinched. “Whoops.”
“But you know what’s worse than the cats eating the rats eating the seed meant for the birds?” Raymond asked.
Tidus stood. “The frog on the log at the bottom of the sea!”
Raymond pointed at Becky. “All them other animals. Yesterday, there were two deer, five groundhogs, two raccoons, three possums, one with rabies, and a goddamned grizzly bear.”
Tidus grinned. “Well, what is the town to do about all these animals?”
Julian smacked the back of his head. “Shut up, idiot, or they’re gonna end up at our farm.”
Raymond’s anger was no longer directed at Becky. Instead he focused on a girl trying her hardest to disappear into her chair. “Gretchen, you’re still animal control, ain’t ya? Do something.”
Gretchen stood, Ambrose at her feet. Christ, she looked as mouthwatering as ever. Must’ve just come from her job. Her shoes were muddy, her shorts far too short for a meeting, and she was wrapped in a fluorescent yellow vest that hid all those beautiful curves under the obnoxious plastic. On the back, she had a giant emblem. A dog, a goose, and the shield.
Utterly ridiculous. Or adorable. Hadn’t made a decision yet.
Gretchen soothed the fears with a steady hand. “I can guarantee it wasn’t a grizzly bear. They don’t live on the side of the country.”
Dave nodded. “Hear that, Ray?”
Gretchen sighed. “If anything, it was just a black bear.”
That was a mistake. The old ladies in the room screamed. The Widow Barlow crossed herself.
“Lord have mercy. What is this town coming to? Bears in Butterpond.”
“I said if.” Gretchen winced. “Tell you what. I’ll take a ride up to Becky Scarsdale’s property and look around.”
Becky took this as a challenge. “You step one foot on my property, and I’m calling the Sheriff.”
Sheriff Samson waved a lazy hand. “Don’t worry, Gretchen. Next time I get called up there for a domestic, I’ll take you. Weekend’s coming up. Should see some action since she can’t get along with Ruben Pascoreli.”
The Widow Barlow shook her head. “Shameful. Just shameful. Never thought I’d see the day that our town council would lie about our bear problem. It’s a disgrace.”
Gretchen groaned. “There are no bears. But if there are, I’ll take care of it.”
Tidus gave a wicked grin. “What about all the coyotes?”
Oh Christ. He’d started a shit show.
But before the residents could riot, the meeting doors swung open and crashed against the wall. Everyone screamed.
“It’s a bear!” The Widow Barlow shouted.
Sheriff Samson drew his gun before swearing. “No. It’s just Mayor Desmond.”
Quint leaned over, elbowing us. “From what I hear, could be both.”
Cassi frowned. “Stop it. He’s married.”
“A beard for the bear.”
Mayor Desmond, the young sleezy sort of politician I should’ve probably befriended before attempting to get a job in DC, slithered through the door. He pointed at Gretchen.
“She’s not going anywhere,” he said. “Miss Murphy. You’re fired.”
A stunned silence rocked the room.
Quint stared at his bingo card, flipped it over in his hand, and balled it up.
“Fuck,” he said. “I don’t think anyone has that space.”
Gretchen stared at Mayor Desmond, her voice a quiet whisper. “I’m fired?”
One of the old ladies dove for her walker. “There’s a fire?”
An older gentleman patted her arm. “No, no. The girl was too tired. She can’t go pick any pears.”
The old lady screeched. “Where are the pears? I love a good pear.”
The man shook his head. “Becky Scarsdale’s got them growing out of birdseed.”
Gretchen didn’t back down, but she nervously teased one of her pigtails as the entire town eavesdropped on the conversation. “Mayor Desmond, maybe we should talk in private?”
Desmond ignored her, stomping a path to the dais and calling the meeting to order with a pound of his gavel. The man didn’t look so good. Suit wrinkled. Shoes and pants covered in streaks of white. Bird shit? Hell, tiny down feathers stuck in his hair.
Quint frowned. “Does anyone else think he looks like he just…fucked a chicken?”
Julian checked his card. “Anyone got that space?”
Tidus stared in horror. “God help us if we’d had the foresight to put chicken fucking on a Bingo card.”
The council members frowned, anxiously whispering.
“I motion that we terminate Gretchen Murphy’s employment immediately,” Desmond said.
Bonnie Horsden, oldest member of the Council and the least likely to stay awake for the entire meeting, ruffled through the papers at her desk. “I don’t think that’s on the agenda.”
“It’s not. I made the decision this afternoon.” Desmond thrust a furious finger in Gretchen’s direction and gritted his teeth. “Earlier this week, in the middle the night, my home was invaded by a swarm of drunken bridesmaids.”
Tidus wasn’t helping. “Were they eating birdseed too?”
Desmond ignored him. “They came in through my basement, climbed the stairs, and attempted to raid my wine cellar.”
The Widow Barlow thrust her cane at him. “You don’t have a wine cellar.”
“I do not. But I have some very old, aged balsamic vinegars. Which, to a drunken bachelorette party, must smell like cordial.”
It wasn’t a good week for Gretchen or her pride. She covered her face. “Mayor Desmond, I am so sorry. Let me explain.”
Tidus cupped his hands around his mouth and hissed at Gretchen. “Blame the bears!”
Desmond ignored him. “And while I’ll defy any man to admit that waking up to a half-naked, drunken, twenty-two-year-old redhead is not a welcomed experience, it was not the ideal fantasy of my wife.”
Quint leaned over. “Or his boyfriend.”
Cassi shushed him.
Mayor Desmond scowled. “This is the last time I suffer any tomfoolery, pranks, or drunken night-time invasions. Enough is enough.” His nostrils flared. “You will be held responsible for what happened t
he next morning.”
This would be good. The town leaned forward, eager to hear the rest of the story.
Hell, Gretchen should have been interested too. Not like she remembered that night.
She flinched. “What…did we do?”
“The feathers! The birds!” Mayor Desmond tore at his hair. “Those are my prized peacocks!”
Raymond raised a hand. “Are they up at Becky’s property too?”
Desmond thrust a finger at Gretchen. “Twinkle, Sprinkle, and Crinkle! Your dog chased my birds through my house, out the door, and down Main Street!”
Gretchen didn’t believe him. The dog had enough sense to hide under her chair.
“Ambrose?” she asked. “Are you sure?”
Desmond yelled. “Your crazy, bird obsessed dog traumatized my birds!”
Tidus raised a hand. My brothers unsuccessfully tried to silence him. “How exactly do you define traumatized in relation to peacocks?”
The mayor was not aware that Tidus asked his question facetiously. “They’re bald.”
“Bald?” Gretchen whispered.
“Like a Thanksgiving Day turkey.”
Tidus shrugged. “Then the work is done for you.”
Desmond howled. “I wasn’t going to eat them. They were my prized peacocks. Award-winning. They won the blue-ribbon this past county fair.”
Micah snorted. “Only because they were competing against our blind rooster and a cockatoo.”
The mayor continued, nearly driven to tears. “They molted. Completely. Lost all their feathers. My living room is covered in bird droppings. My wife is beside herself. We’ve been trying to keep them warm, but the knitting club is still out of commission after the gazebo incident. The only thing that fits them is my wife’s underwear, and she’s running out of panties.”
Tidus leaned over to whisper, but Quint interrupted him.
“You don’t even have to ask,” Quint said. “We're gonna see this shit for ourselves after the meeting.”
Mayor Desmond set his jaw. “And so, Gretchen Murphy. You are fired. And you’re damned lucky that I don’t have you arrested for trespassing and vandalism.”
Sheriff Samson hooted. “Come on, Mayor. Do you really think Elijah Murphy’s gonna let me arrest his daughter and his bride-to-be?”
“Fine,” he said. “She goes free…after you take her dog.”
The town went silent. A cold, unsettling chill quieted even the drunkest of the residents.
Gretchen seethed, reaching for her dog. “Excuse me?”
And that’s when Mayor Desmond made a terrible mistake. “The dog is a menace. He’s a danger to the town’s other animals and pets.”
“You’re not serious.”
“He molested and insulted my birds.”
“The only insult to your peacocks was what Chloe did with the feathers for my father.” She stepped a little closer, raised her chin, prepared for battle. “Ambrose doesn’t hurt birds. He’s trained to herd them. That’s all he does. It’s completely humane, and he knows not to attack anything. Not even a toy. Ambrose has never once hurt any other animal in this town.”
“He doesn’t need to bite to traumatize.” Mayor Desmond snapped a finger at Samson. “Sheriff, if you would…”
Gretchen nearly crumbled.
A tear crossed her cheek.
Absolutely not.
No one would make that beautiful woman cry, didn’t matter if he was the mayor of Butterpond or my commanding officer. A surge of adrenaline propelled me from my seat. Didn’t have a gun anymore, but my voice carried like a shot.
“Mayor Desmond.”
The town silenced. They flinched, turning to look at me. Just what I needed. More attention.
But I didn’t need two legs to act like a man. Just needed a pair of brass balls.
I held his gaze. “I believe Gretchen doesn’t remember what happened that night.”
Mayor Desmond’s raised hand silenced the whispers. “Mr. Payne, please. While we all thank you for your service and sacrifice, this has nothing to do with you.”
“Like hell.” I nodded to my family. All four of my brother stood behind me, arms crossed. The only thing we did better than fight was stick together. “Maybe she did go to your house. Maybe your birds did shit all over your living room. Maybe she did steal your tie.”
Desmond roared. “That’s where the Armani tie went?”
Whoops. I raised my chin. “But that night, Gretchen was also with me.”
Gretchen panicked. “Marius, don’t you dare.”
Oh, I dared. And she’d fall on her knees in gratitude when she realized what the hell I was doing.
“Gretchen came to see me. Checked on me. She’s real sweet, that girl. Cares about her veterans. She asked if she could do anything to help transition me back to civilian life.”
Gretchen covered her eyes. “Marius, I’m begging you…”
“And that’s when I told her that it had been tough to adjust. And after experiencing all that violence and bloodshed, after the accident, I needed a little comfort.”
Tidus hooted. “Hell yeah.”
I caught her gaze. “So, that’s when she gave me Ambrose.”
The town erupted in whispers again. Mayor Desmond’s mouth fell open.
Julian jumped to my defense. “Yeah. All the soldiers have dogs now. To help them cope.”
Gretchen trembled, but she was a smart girl. She stared at me, eyes glistening with tears. “That’s right. Ambrose is trained to be a therapy dog!”
I shrugged. “Exactly. A therapy dog. I sit on the couch, he jots down notes and charges me a hundred dollars an hour. Point is, Gretchen gave me the dog.” I gave him a sly smirk. “Now, if you want to be Mayor Hardass, the man who took a therapy dog from a wounded veteran who’d just returned home from service…”
Desmond knew better. He staggered backwards, nearly colliding with the five disapproving council members. “Absolutely not. Of course, he’s yours. I am absolutely committed to providing the utmost care, hospitality, and graciousness to all veterans.”
Sure, he was. Also knew how to secure votes for the upcoming election.
I patted my leg, but Ambrose didn’t leave Gretchen side until she nudged him with an elbow. I gave him a scratch behind the ears.
“I should get them home,” I said. “Don’t want him…rustling anymore feathers.” I jerked a thumb towards my family. “Give the award to my sister. I’ll get the ferocious beast out of this meeting.”
Ambrose followed me to the door. Gretchen breathlessly rushed into the night after us.
And then she burst into tears.
Couldn’t have that.
I reached for her hand, but she launched into my arms instead. Heavy, heartbreaking sobs sliced through me like shrapnel. I held her close, but she didn’t let me comfort her.
“Gretchen…”
She interrupted me with a hot, desperate kiss. I nearly fell backwards, lucky to strike the brick of the municipal building and not the cement of the sidewalk.
Fuck. This woman.
With a breathless gasp, her smile faded. The woman was a mystery, temptress, and storm wrapped up in a single kiss.
“I’ll never be able to thank you for what you did.” She bit her lip. I should’ve punished her for daring to hurt her perfect lip. “So, I’m going to ask you one question.”
“Anything.”
“Your place or mine?”
5
Marius
Taking a woman home was usually a perk, not a punishment.
But then I saw Gretchen’s home.
I parked my car, but I considered driving away. What the hell was it with this girl? Gretchen was a little thing, curvy and athletic. But her house? Ridiculous.
She lived in a shed.
The cottage was small enough to make a garage look like a McMansion. Hell, the porch wrapped around the front, practically doubling the square footage. But she guided me towards her little cottage like it w
as some sort of normal, acceptable place for a dirty, quick, mind-blowing night of fucking and inhibitions.
Christ, I didn’t have enough room to fuck her properly. The English styled cottage was hardly more than a nook. How the hell was I supposed to get in her cranny if I couldn’t make it through the door? I’d lost my leg, not half my body weight. I’d never make it inside.
Gretchen took my hand. I didn’t move.
“How the hell am I supposed to get in there?” I asked.
Gretchen giggled. Her dark eyes danced with an innocent mischief. Was this beautiful girl trying to be naughty? First time doing something bad? For someone looking so desperately for Prince Charming, she didn’t let a lot of guys storm her castle.
“That’s part of the fun,” she whispered. “It’ll be tight, but I think you’ll like it.”
It would be all fun and games until I whacked my cock off the ceiling. “You realize I’m not as agile as I used to be?”
“You don’t have to be.” Her hands flattened on my chest. “Marius, you have no idea what you just did for me. I’ll never be able to prove how grateful I am, but I hope you let me try. Again and again. As long as it takes.”
Now this was the sort of gratitude I’d been looking for. Screw a medal. A man only needed a long night with a good woman to feel like a damned hero.
But in that house?
Hell no.
Gretchen led me inside, but I had to duck to get in through the door. Probably the first indication that the night wouldn’t go the way I’d planned.
Especially as Gretchen had no bedroom.
The cottage could hardly fit a mini-fridge and two-burner stove. The kitchen, or what was intended to be a kitchen, was some cutesy, EZ Bake Oven shit. Ruffled curtains and mason jars give it a country feel, but the walls closed in. A barn door separated what I assumed was the bathroom from the rest of the home. Big windows attempted to alleviate the claustrophobia. Did a shit job.
A staircase made out of built-in storage boxes led to a loft with the ceiling no higher than four feet.
I pointed to her bed. “You think I can crawl up there?”
She bit her lip. “I figured we’d would be horizontal anyway.”
“If I’d known it’d be this hard to get in your bed, I would’ve fucked you in the car.”
