Page 56 of Not Mine to Rescue
I was trembling as I opened my home and my routines to him.
Molly rushed in, racing up the stairs to get to her food and water bowl. DA was on her heels.
He made a mess of the water, ate some of her food, then they ran off to the living room with a horrible case of the zoomies.
“Dumb Ass, chill.”
He didn’t listen to Wombat. There were levels to explore and new scents to smell. Molly never had canine company here, and it was surprising to see her racing to her spots as if she were showing them off. “They’re just excited, that’s all.”
Molly tore across the couch in my office area and leapt to the armchair beside it before pouncing onto her bed and then off. DA followed, displacing the set and rolling off as the chair hit the ridge where the hardwood floor met kitchen tile and halted abruptly.
“It’s their first sleepover in your house.” He looked at me with laughter dancing in his eyes.
A sleepover? Was that where this was going?
Hours, he’d promised.
I nodded to let him know that I was on board with this.
He relaxed a little and took off his coat. Then he put the chair into its original position and looked around.
I picked the coat up and let him know I was taking it downstairs to the closet in the foyer. Most of the living space in my home was on the second level which had almost floor-to-ceiling arched windows facing the cul-du-sac. When I bought the place, I was only looking for something available, close to work, and safe enough to take Molly outside morning and night. When I discovered this end unit with its odd split-level first and second floors, an open staircase climbing from the landing and garage level all the way to the bedrooms at the top, I had reservations. Especially about the stairs. But I also didn’t want a single-level home where someone could break into my bedroom on a whim.
That meant either buying a home farther out, or settling for one of the older buildings downtown. Nothing I’d seen was perfect.
Then I walked into the backyard of this place. The end lot came with trees and a green space insulated by the outer ring of townhomes protecting this little U-turn. It wasn’t a lot of maintenance, and I paid for a service to keep it nice. The ground level had a patio covered by the second-floor deck. I could sit in the shade there while Molly lounged in the grass.
The only thing missing was a fenced yard. But the HOA had been fighting me on that.
When I climbed the stairs again, Wombat was on the big couch in the living room area that took up the front of the house. My designer had created a quaint conversation group she insisted was perfect for gatherings.
I’d never had guests here.
“Where is your TV?”
His arm sprawled across the back of the couch, inviting me to snuggle into that space. But there was one problem with his choice. “I don’t have a TV down here.”
His eyes moved to the ceiling. “I take it you’re a bedroom movie girl?”
“You make it sound tawdry.”
One eyebrow lifted. “If you watch porn, it might be.”
“I don’t.”
“You should.”
It took a lot of self-control not to squeeze my thighs together.
“Molly gave Dumb Ass the grand tour. They’re upstairs.”
“Oh no.”
I raced up the steps to confirm she hadn’t nudged her way into my closet again. The last thing I needed was DA getting introduced to the wondrous flavor of designer shoe leather.
Instead, they’d mussed my bed. Both dogs were sprawled out on it, tongues hanging, mouths hanging open in their equivalent of laughter.
Wombat slipped behind me. “This is your room?” His eyes took in the Persian rugs I’d laid down so Molly wouldn’t slip, the artful chaise lounge with matching chair that doubled as Molly’s perch. It angled just so in front of the windows to catch the light when I read for pleasure.
