Wreck Me (20 page)

“That’s easy. I’ve already worked out the details for tomorrow with Dave, my project manager. The decorator will be here at nine o’clock tomorrow morning to go over some things with you.” I set the steaks to broil and drain the potatoes I boiled.

“Wait, I’m meeting the decorator here?” I dump the steaming hot potatoes into a mixing bowl with the butter, milk, and garlic. I smash them up as I carry on with our conversation.

“Yes. The store is now a construction zone and I don’t want you getting hurt or hanging out around a crew of horny construction workers.” His explanation sounds reasonable except the crew part. He sounds a tad jealous, but I don’t even want to broach the subject of jealousy with him right now.

I finish preparing our meal and we eat and carry on light conversation. Mostly about the store. After dinner, I make quick work of cleaning up our mess.

Damon’s phone begins ringing. He glances down to the screen and his jaw clenches and ticks.

“I have to take this.” He says flatly as he stalks off toward his office. I finish cleaning and talk myself out of eaves dropping. Whoever is on the phone has to do with this Edward person. I’m sure of it. I carry myself up his stairs and into the library. I pick a book at random from the shelf and pad to his bedroom. I crack open the book. The spine creaks and moans its protest. This book has never been opened. Its unmarred spine speaks volumes to me. My eyes read the first page lazily before sleep wins out and I give up on reading.

I wake up feeling like someone ran me over with a bus and I can’t blame this on rough sex. I’m getting sick. Fuck my life. I roll over and through cracked lids spot a note on the bedside table. I reach across and snatch it up. Scrawled in shitty man-bull writing is a short and sweet message.

‘You’re right next to me and yet I miss you. –D’

I look around for signs of Damon, but find none. I dress quickly in a pair of Damon’s pajama pants and a white tee. I drag my aching body down his stairs. I can hear movement from the kitchen. I walk in to find Damon staring at the oven like it is the mystery of all mysteries.

“What are you doing?” I force out sounding very similar to an eighty year old smoker. He whips around like I have screamed bloody murder.

“You sound awful!” He strides towards me and lays his hand across my cheek.

“You have fever. You have to get back in bed.”

“What the hell were you staring at the oven for?” He looks back over his shoulder and looks sheepish again. Damn him.

“Ah, well I was thinking maybe I could make you breakfast, but I’m afraid I’m not as proficient in here as you are.” I laugh in spite of my sore throat.

“I like how you dressed that up to sound far better than what it is.”

“And what is it?”

“What you should have said was, ‘I can’t cook for a damn so breakfast is out.’” He laughs and turns me by the shoulders to direct me back to the stairs. The doorbell chimes halting both of us. I thought guests had to be let in through security?

“That’ll be Carry.” He releases my shoulders and jogs over to the fancy front door. He opens the door and steps aside. Something deep within me rears back and surges forward in a hurry. Oh hell no. Carry is a fucking life like Barbie with a ridiculous spray tan. She smiles coyly at Damon.

“Come on in.” He motions his arm forward and she struts past him with an exaggerated sway in her hips. Bitch! She doesn’t even notice me standing near the staircase in my too big pajamas with no bra. My hair is a mussed up mess and I feel awful. Meanwhile this bitch looks like she is trying to win a damned beauty pageant.

“When I got your message I was glad to squeeze you into my schedule. So what are we working on, Damon?” She says with enough innuendo as I can fucking stand. I have the impulse to tackle this tangerine/orange Barbie and strangle her.

“Ahem.” I clear my sore throat and draw their attention to me.

“Carry, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Josephine. You’ll actually be working with her on the project. She is in charge of all things regarding the store so you’ll need to answer to her.” His insinuation of answering to makes me beam on the inside. This man is after my heart in a fierce way and dammit, he is succeeding. I smile warmly at him as he walks away from the spray tan poster child. He comes right up to me and rests his hand on my cheek.

“Baby, you have a fever. This is going to have to wait. Okay.” He leans forward and kisses my scorching forehead. I catch a glimpse of Miss Spray Tan behind him and she looks as if she has just caught of whiff of something putrid. Her over glossed pink lips crinkle up and look far too much like an overused and abused vagina. Gross! I just can’t resist.

“You really ought not make that face. Wrinkles and all.” I toss in her direction and she jacks up her face even more. I choke down a laugh. Damon turns to her from where he standing by my side. She instantly plasters on a phony grin.

“We will have to reschedule Carry. Josephine is not feeling well. I’m sure she will call for another appointment when she’s up to it.” Yeah, how about never skank?

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll let my secretary know that you’ll be calling to reschedule. Bye.” She turns in her patent leather heels and matching cream colored pencil skirt and leaves the penthouse. The moment the front door closes he sweeps me up and totes me off towards his room. I am laid down and tucked in with care. He sits beside me and wears a cocky smirk on his face. I sigh dramatically and roll my eyes. I know its coming.

“Baby, are you jealous?” The intonation of the last word makes my anger level rise again.

“I am no more jealous than you Mister ‘stay away from the crew.” I imitate a ridiculous macho voice and he points a stern finger at me.

“Hey, I am only looking out for your safety. A nail could go through your foot or something.” I laugh a little too hard at his absurd excuse and my sore throat burns more as a result.

“Ouch,” I croak as I clutch at my neck.

“Okay enough joking around. I’m working from home today so I can take care of you. I’ll get you some medicine. You rest now.” He leans in and kisses me despite my potential contagiousness and it leaves me with that vaguely familiar feeling of being cared for. Cherished. Loved. He rises from the bed and disappears from the room. I close my eyes and do as I am told. Rest.

I must have fallen asleep after Damon left because I am beginning to wake up from a deep sleep. I feel a slippery tongue glide across my cheek and I furrow my brows. Why the hell is he licking me?

“Pssst!”

“Hmm?”

“Wake up,” he whispers and then licks my cheek again. Gross! My open my heavy eyes and scream. I scramble backward and smack up against the head board.

“What in the hell is that?” I shout then instantly regret my response. My yelling did my throat no favors.

“Don’t freak out.” Damon admonishes.

“It’s just a puppy. He likes you. He was kissing your face.” He pulls the silver and gray fur ball into his chest and rubs him behind his little scruffy ears.

“You got a dog?” I know I sound incredulous. This ultra modern penthouse would look just great with puppy shit on the floors. I can’t believe he got a damn dog.

“No I got him for you. Well, I guess he got me. He’s an orphan.” Damon explains. Why’d he have to use the word orphan? Now I feel like me and the puppy are old pals. It’s ridiculous. I raise an eyebrow to prompt and explanation and he does.

“One of the guys on the crew found him by the dumpster at the store. It was just him. No tags or anything. Dave’s wife is a vet so he called her down and she checked the fellow out. She said he is some type of Schnauzer mix.”

“I can’t have a puppy at my apartment Damon.” He shrugs in response to my objection.

“He can stay here.” I narrow my eyes on him I see what the hell he is playing at.

“If I agree to take this…thing, and he has to stay here, it stands to reason that I’d have to stay here as well.” A victorious grin spreads across his handsome face and I know I am so screwed. He holds up the scruffy looking thing and manipulates his tiny paws in a praying gesture.

“Oh, please be my new mommy. Won’t you adopt me? Aren’t I cute mommy?” I try and fail at stifling my laughter.

“You know you sound completely stupid, right?” Damon sets the puppy in my lap and I reluctantly stroke his fur. He is so soft. He is actually kind of cute. Actually, he is really cute. I scoop him up into my hands and lift him up for a closer look.

“How old is he?” I ask Damon while looking at the puppies tiny chocolate brown eyes.

“Dave’s wife said he is about eight to ten weeks old.” I roll out my lip. I can’t believe he is so young and so alone. I feel awful for the little man. He deserves a home. I know I have to take him. I don’t know the first damn thing about taking care of a dog, but I guess I can wing it.

“Hemingway,” I say to the little fur ball in my hands. His little ears perk up high in response.

“What?” I set him down in my lap and pet his tiny head.

“It’s his name. Hemingway.” Damon scoffs and I shoot him a hateful look. Asshole!

“What’s wrong with Hemingway?” He shakes his head from side to side.

“You can call him Hemingway, but I am calling him Hemi. Like the engine.” He’s adamant. I can tell. It has to be a man thing.

“Fine.” I look down to Hemingway and scratch behind his ears.

“Daddy says he is calling you Hemi in spite of your obvious intellect and sophistication.” Hemingway lets out a high pitched little bark and I nearly drop him. Damon clutches his gut and lets out a deep belly laugh.

“He is a puppy. He is not going to hurt you.” I shoot another death glare in his direction and cuddle Hemingway to my chest. He tilts his little head up and licks my cheek again. I melt into a puddle of female hormones and animal instinct.

“So, do I get any points for bringing you a puppy? Women like puppies.” I look at him and wonder for a brief moment if his story is all bullshit. I bet he went and bought this dog for some insanely high amount from one of those dog breeders. I look into little Hemingway’s brown eyes and see a loneliness and apprehensiveness that only an orphan could recognize. He has to be what Damon says. Poor little guy. He gets points. Loads of points. He rescued Hemingway from who knows what and I guess I have someone to…love?

“Points.” I affirm as I lean forward and kiss him.

“Loads and loads of points.” Damon’s face turns even more victorious and I swear his chest could not poke out any further. Geez. Men and their pride. It’s the downfall of society.

“Oh shoot. I told your Grams that I’d be there today with circus peanuts!” I cradle Hemingway to my chest and slide out of bed.

“You’re sick,” Damon protests as he follows me to the bathroom.

“I feel much better,” I lie. While holding Hemingway to my chest I shove a plush bath towel into the sink basin and carefully set the puppy in it. He curls up and plops down. I smile feeling a little proud of my ingenuity.

“Are you sure?” He reaches out to check my temperature with his hand and I bat him away.

“I’m fine. Really. You get some work done, whatever that might be. I’ll be back here once I am done visiting your grams. I promised her,” I make sure to sound pleading on that last bit. I know he would not want to upset Grams. He sighs and I know I have won the battle of wills.