Page 21 of I Could Never
Carly batted her lashes. “Don’t be mad.”
Fuck.
I don’t know what snapped in me in that moment, but an image of fucking her flashed through my mind.Where the hell did that come from?
Carly thought I was mad at her. And apparently, I wanted to back her up against the counter and fuck her instead. That realization was extremely troubling. I’d much rather be mad at her. Why I’d gone from annoyed to egregiously horny in a millisecond was beyond me. It must’ve been the damn stress of being here catching up with me.
Sure, Carly was hot. There was no denying that. But to have that kind of vivid image pop up—and to havelikedit? All because she batted her lashes at me? Ticket straight to hell.
The dog jumped up on my lap and proceeded to lick me.
“Jesus…” I muttered, scrunching my face and pursing my lips shut, trying not to let him French kiss me the way he seemed to want to. “His breath smells like he went down on a fucking tuna fish.”
Carly burst into laughter. “He likes you.”
Scottie came up behind me soon after and took a big whiff of my hair as Tuna Breath continued to lick my face.
“You’re very popular around here, Josh,” she teased.
“Everyone likes me in this house—except you, Pumpkin.”
She laughed. “I’ll like you if you don’t complain about the dog for the rest of the night.”
“The rest of the night? It needs to be gone before then!”
She laughed harder as the dog continued to attack my face with its tuna tongue.
I rolled my eyes and dug my nails into the dog’s fur. “I should’ve stayed at my brother’s.”
***
That evening, as expected, the damn dog was still with us, sitting by my feet like I’d been his master for twenty years. He was collecting scraps of the supper Carly had prepared. At least she’d called the police—I’d made sure to watch as she did—but they hadn’t received any reports of a missing animal yet. Come to think of it, I had no proof there was actually someone on the other line of that phone call she placed. I’d have to trust her on that.
Scottie had eaten his chicken earlier and was already in bed for the night. Carly and I had opted for this unusually late dinner after he went to sleep. At least this way we could eat in peace without having to worry about what he was up to.
We’d just finished the last of Carly’s gluten-free pasta. I had to admit, Carly could cook, even if she claimed not to have much experience.
I wiped my mouth. “This was really good—even without the gluten.”
“Anything’s better than fried silicone breast insert, right?” she cracked.
“That’s true.” I chuckled. “Before coming here, I can’t remember the last time anyone made me a home-cooked meal. So that part’s been nice.”
“Is that the only nice part?”
“It’s not as miserable with you as I thought it would be,” I admitted.
“Oh, Josh. Do you ever know how to charm a girl.” She batted her eyes like a cartoon.
I shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a charming kind of guy.”
After I got up to put my plate in the dishwasher, I opened one of the drawers to get a dishtowel for the pans but found dozens of small notepads instead. They all had the same thing printed on the top:A Thank You from The Trappist Monks of St. Francis.
I lifted one out. “What the heck are all these?”
“I saw those, too. I guess Wayne must’ve given them a lot of donations over the years.”
“Jesus.” I laughed. “No pun intended.”