Page 10 of Big Dog
“Go home, bitch!” Romy reads. “Well, at least they can spell and use proper grammar.”
“Aren’t you concerned?” I ask. I am. I’m ready to remove heads.
“Yes, but I can’t do anything about it right now,” Romy says. “The alarm did its job. Now I have to review the footage andsee if we can identify whoever did this. Then the ass-kicking will begin.”
Between us, we take a ton of photos and video. Romy uncovers a hammer that one of the construction guys left behind, and we nail a couple of boards across the back of the busted door.
“Can you take me home? After this, I just want a shower and bed. You’re welcome to join me.”
As much as I’d like a part two of the night with her, Romy is done. I’m in slightly better shape, but since she won’t enjoy it like I would, I put a pin in it. “Sure,” I agree.
“There could be cuddling.”
“Now you’re just being a tease.” But it gets both of us smiling.
Deacon’s rental is clean and tidy but sparse. There is very little of Romy anywhere. She told me that she lived in tiny, rented quarters when she was in the navy, trying to save money, but aside from some photos and two bookcases, I’m pretty sure all the furniture in the living room is left over from when Violet lived here.
She points me toward the bedroom while she ducks into the bathroom. When she comes out, her face is freshly scrubbed, and her hair is off her face in a hairband. She looks utterly exhausted. “I’m crashing. Are you joining me or not?”
I notice that her mattress is firm and that the sheets smell lightly of lavender. The next thing I know, I’m waking up to a room full of sunshine beaming through the open curtains. It’s also incredibly hot, like I’m wrapped in an electric blanket. Which tightens around me and whispers, “Good morning.”
Holy fuck, Romy is spooning me. I stop shifting under the covers, enjoying the warmth. I could get used to this. “Good morning.”
She groans. “It’s too early. I’ll start coffee then hit the shower to give you a couple more minutes in bed. If you want to gohome, I’m still starting coffee.” She shifts to roll away, then moves backward and drops a kiss on my shoulder. “Coffee,” she repeats.
I’m in yesterday’s clothes. They’ll do. I don’t want to give up my first morning with Romy by going home to change. Especially not after she bragged about her breakfasts. Even if it’s only cereal, it’ll be with her.
She starts the coffee before taking her shower. By the time I’m done mine, there’s a frying pan on the stove and a container of batter beside it. “Pancakes?” she asks.
“On a Friday morning?”
“Every morning,” Romy says. “Life is too short to save pancakes for special occasions. They don’t take much longer than toast if you have batter in the fridge. So?”
“Sure.”
The woman is serious about her pancakes. She drops fresh blueberries into the batter, then ladles them into the sizzling pan. A choice of three syrups awaits my decision on the counter. Plus a steaming cup of black coffee. God, I might be in love.
“I’m on call tonight with the tow-truck. I can’t promise we’ll have an uninterrupted evening.”
“We can try, if you want to.”
“I’ll hit the grocery store after work. Get something to barbecue,” I say.
“I’ll bring the wine.”
“And something to wear on Saturday,” I add. I’m going to keep her in that bed all night, even if I’m not there.
After breakfast, which in fact did not take much longer than toast, we go our separate ways. Romy has to file a report with the police, and she needs to be on site for the day’s contractors anyway. I have a new employee to welcome.
Hart Weston is on time on his first day, which is a good start. He and Grayson Masak put a local farmer’s truck onto thelift and get to work replacing brake pads. When Violet calls me to the office to sign off on a parts order, I’m surprised to see Deacon lying in wait.
“How was your date?”
“Fine. Good, even.”
“Are you going to see Romy again?” At this point, Violet glares at Deacon and excuses herself. At least I have one person on my side.
“Yes.”
