CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Liam and I had such a fun evening. Even with his friends hassling each other. He may have wrapped his arm around me, but I think that had more to do with keeping his friends away from me than any romantic feelings on his part. It still felt good to be included, let go and feel normal.
I want to repay him by making breakfast before he leaves for work.
“What’s this?” he asks, walking into the kitchen and rubbing his face.
“Breakfast.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to. You’ve been doing so much for me. I should at least send you to work with a full belly.”
He chuckles and drops a kiss on the top of my head. “Thank you. I told you I have to work a double tomorrow right?”
The smile slides off my face. Whoa. That’s a lot of hours alone in this house. Not that my loneliness is Liam’s problem. “I should probably pack a lunch for you then.”
“You don’t have to. I usually grab something at Stewart’s.”
My nose wrinkles. “That’s gas station food. What if you get food poisoning?”
He slaps his hand over his stomach, the gesture moving the material of his faded green T-shirt up enough to provide me with a glimpse of abs. “I can handle it,” he says.
“What?” I mumble, distracted by muscle and happy trail.
His finger brushes under my chin, lifting my face. “You all right?”
“Uh, yeah. Are you ready to eat?”
“Bring it on.”
Even though I protest, he grabs plates and utensils for both of us.
“I’m not messing up your morning routine, am I?” I ask, once we’re seated.
“Not at all. This is nice. Usually I just rush around and grab whatever.”
“Figured,” I mumble.
“Have any plans for today?”
I glance up. “Not really. Why?”
“You could always go up to my parents’ if you wanted,” he suggests.
I gather up my patience before answering. “I’m not some lonely charity case, Liam. I’ll be fine.”
“Hey.” He reaches out and touches my face. “I didn’t say you were. I just feel bad for leaving you alone so long.”
“I can entertain myself.”
He stares at me for a few beats before taking his hand away. “I have to get ready. Thank you for breakfast.”
For a Saturday, our little town is surprisingly quiet. That’ll probably change later tonight, but since I’m off the clock in a few, I’m not going to worry about it. Tomorrow I’m sure there’ll be plenty for me to do.
As I climb into my truck, my phone buzzes and I groan. If it’s someone calling me back into work I’m going to be pissed.
It’s Keegan.
“What’s up?” I answer.
“Were you able to talk to your parents?”
My mind blanks. “About what?”
“The dog I need to find a home for.”
“Shit. No. I didn’t realize it was urgent.”
He sighs. “We can’t get her in for the surgery until next week. She needs to be supervised and be somewhere calm so she’s not making the injury worse.”
An idea forms and I wonder if Bree will go for it.
“How bad is it?”
“She’s mobile. Great guard dog. You don’t need to carry her around or anything. Just figured your parents are home and—”
“I’ll take her.”
“How? You work more hours than I do.”
“You heard Bree last night. She needs something to do. I’d feel better if she’s not home all alone when I’m working.”
“Okay, but what about when she goes back to school? I don’t want to keep re-homing the poor dog every couple months.”
Inside I’m laughing at the way my big, intimidating friend worries about animals more than people.
“I understand. We’ll work something out. I’ll talk to my parents too. Bring her over tonight so Bree can meet her.”
“Yeah, all right. At least Vince’s place doesn’t have any stairs.”
“Just the front porch, but we can take her in and out the back door.”
“Thanks, bud.”
We work out a time for him to stop by, and inside I’m excited about this plan. Bree’s wanted a pet for as long as I’ve known her.
Or at least she did. Am I overstepping?
If nothing else, at least I’m helping Keegan out.
Bree’s in dog heaven a few hours later. As soon as Keegan brought the dog in the house, Bree knelt down on the living room floor and the oversized Rottweiler immediately plopped down next to her and rolled onto her back. Bree’s been rubbing the dog’s tummy and humming to her ever since.
“So, I think this will work out,” Keegen comments with a smile on his face.
“She needs a more dignified name,” Bree says without looking up at us.
“What’s not dignified about Waffles?”
Bree shoots a glare at us. “She’s not some weenie dog.”
“How about Kimber?” I suggest.
Keegan raises a brow. “Like the guns?”
I tip my head in Bree’s direction. “First gun she ever shot.”
“I like it,” Bree says.
“Fine by me. Now, I need you two to keep her meals light. Haven’t been able to exercise her much, so she’s gotten chubby,” Keegan explains, earning another glare from Bree.
“You’re not chubby,” she croons to the dog.
I doubt Kimber cares what anyone thinks of her waistline as long as Bree keeps rubbing her belly.
Keegan leaves us with the medical instructions, which aren’t much. Keep her off her feet as much as possible. Pain meds as needed. Light meals. Easy enough.
Bree unfolds herself from the floor and plucks the list out of my hands.
“Will you be all right with her tomorrow?” I ask. “Sorry I sprung this on you.”
“We’ll be fine.” She hesitates and glances down at the dog. “Now that I have some protection, I guess you don’t need to keep staying here with me.”
Shit. I hadn’t even considered leaving. I hate when I have to go to work. Can’t imagine going back to my apartment knowing she’s a few streets away.
Even I have to admit, my reluctance to leave has little to do with her safety.
“That’s not why I told Keegan we’d take her.” Bree raises an eyebrow at “we” and I rush to finish my thought. “He was in a bind.”
“So, you won’t be gracing the couch anymore?”
Does she want me to leave? Or is she daring me to leave?
Kimber struggles to sit up and then stand, unsteady with her injured back leg.
“I’m not leaving. You can’t pick her up by yourself if something happens,” I answer, feeling only a twinge of guilt for using the dog as an excuse.
A look of what I want to believe is relief washes over Bree’s face. “Think Vince will be mad?”
“Nah. He’d love to have a dog. Just can’t do it since he’s never home.”
“What about when I go back to school?” she asks softly.
The question hits me hard and all the points Keegan made at the bar last night flip through my mind.
“We’ll worry about it then. I might see if my parents want her.” I take a step closer and brush a few loose strands of hair off her cheek.
She glances down at Kimber, who’s watching us closely. “Looks like we’re both homeless, girl.”
My chest tightens from the pain in her voice. “No, you’re not.”
She lets out a huff of air. “You know what I meant.”