Page 80 of Violent Little Thing

When I got close, he pulled me into his lap and continued to talk to his friends.

But he did stop long enough to press a kiss to the side of my throat.

Twenty-Three

At this stage in my life, missing trash day feels like a personal failure that I’ll be thinking about all week.

—Charleigh to Court

Charleigh

I woke sometime late morning, aware that I was really late for work.

There was no way that I couldn’t be, based solely on the amount of light that was pouring in through the gap in Court’s curtains.

I rolled over to see Court still dead asleep, snoring so softly that I almost couldn’t hear it.

Oh, he was so stinkin’ cute!

Gathering my gumption—because I could tell that it was freezing based solely on the fact of how cold my nose was—I slipped out of the bed and headed for the bathroom.

Finding Court’s sweatshirt there, I slid it on over his t-shirt that I’d stolen for bed last night and used the bathroom, washed my hands, brushed my teeth, then stared at my hair.

It was bad.

I needed to wash it, but the thought of going through the hour-long process it would take to fix my hair sounded as unappealing as a root canal.

Instead, I left it wild and decided that today would have to be a work from home day for me.

Plus, based on the sun’s height in the sky, I was already pushing mid-morning. If I went into the office today, it’d be noon before I even got there. And I had enough work I could do from my computer that the office wasn’t necessary.

With one last glance at my hair—man, it was wild—I headed out of the bathroom only to stop and pick up Court’s socks that were also on the floor next to the bedroom door.

I closed the door as quietly as I could behind me, then went to get the coffee started.

Once that was done, I fed the wood burning stove with enough wood to last a while, then headed back to the kitchen to get my coffee.

I was pouring creamer into the cup when I looked out the window.

I saw the trash men at the curb, and I cursed.

I hated missing trash day, and I damn well knew that the bins were full. I’d loaded them down with moving boxes and crap from my move.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I said as I ran to the front door.

Shoving my feet into my boots, I hauled ass out the door and around to the side of the house where Court kept his bins.

I grabbed the heaviest one first, and zoomed down the length of the driveway, waving my hand and trying to get the trash man’s attention. I hit the back of my heel on the can three times, nearly falling twice, in the time that the man took to see me.

He finally looked up, saw me and waved, letting me know he’d seen me. I saw his arm move as he put his truck into park. Then he watched me run down the length of a snowy driveway, slipping and sliding the whole way.

Likely, he was waiting for me to bust my ass.

The drive needed shoveled, but since we’d gotten such a late start, not a single thing had been done this morning.

“Thank you,” I breathed as I got to the trash man. “I have one more, will you wait?”

I didn’t pay much mind to the way he stared at me as I asked this, but later I’d think about how creepy the look was.