Page 42 of A Little Moore Action
“Just the one dog?” I think back to the number of strays my sister brought home to us over the years. As long as the animals stayed in the kids’ wing of the house and my parents didn’t have to deal with them, they didn’t much care what pets we had.
“Yeah. His name was Elvis.” She continues to talk while looking down at Mike. “He was awesome.”
“Elvis? You’re kidding me.” Although that would explain her affinity for his songs.
A light chuckle bats back the sadness in her voice. “Nope. Mom and I always loved Elvis Presley. It was kind of our thing.” The sadness returns. “I got puppy Elvis when I was nine. But when I went to college, I wasn’t allowed to take him with me. Had to leave him at home.” She hugs Mike to her chest. “He died while I was away.”
I picture a younger version of the woman in front of me, heartbroken and far away from home. The vision makes me angry, though I’m not sure why. “That sucks.”
“Yeah. It did. But it was a long time ago.” Mike licks her cheeks, and she smiles, giving him an Eskimo kiss.
“And now?” I ask, wondering at this softer side of Campbell. “Why not get a pet now?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I spend my time between a small apartment in Houston and my parents’ old house outside of a small town in the country. Plus with how much I work and travel, I don’t think I’d be a good pet owner.”
From the motor humming in Mike’s chest at the moment, I’d disagree with that. Who’d have thought Campbell was a natural-born cuddler? It would’ve been nice if it had been me and not my two-faced sphynx wedged between her boobs right now. “Hmmm.”
The usual pinch of concentration between her brows has smoothed out as she pets the bag of bones in her lap.
“So your parents still in Houston?”
“No.” Her voice is soft. “They passed away a while ago.”
Great. First I got her to bring up her dead dog and now her parents. Smooth, man, real smooth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a Debbie Downer.”
“It’s okay.” A shadow darkens her eyes for a moment. Mike shifts and licks her face again, lighting her up with a smile.
Fine. The cat can stay.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, not knowing what else to say. “About your parents, I mean.” Having both parents pass couldn’t have been easy.
“Really. It’s okay.” She looks up at me, her expression sincere. “It’s been eight years. And though I still miss them, I was lucky to have such great parents. They loved me. So much. When I got the scholarship to Columbia, I didn’t want to leave Texas. To leave them. Then one day I came home to find all my bags packed with a plane ticket on top, like a cherry on a sundae.” She looks back to Mike. “That was a big deal for them, that plane ticket. I was their only kid, but not only that, we didn’t have a lot of money. But they didn’t want me to pass up my dream of New York.”
“They sound great.” And so different from my own.
Her eyes focus on the distance, and I imagine her thinking of her parents. A small smile plays at her lips. “Yeah. They were. They were older when they had me, so they might not have been chasing me around playing tag or rushing me from activity to activity, but they did the important stuff. They taught me right from wrong. The importance of hard work. To learn from my mistakes.” She stiffens, straightening in the chair, causing Mike to jump down. “You know, I should really go. It’s getting late.”
I wonder how she doesn’t give herself emotional whiplash.
When she gets up from the chair, I settle my hands on her shoulders. “Okay, what just happened?”
She doesn’t meet my eyes. “Nothing, I just…” She blows out a long breath. “Look, you know this isn’t a good idea. Weworktogether.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. But it doesn’t make me do the smart thing and step back. Maybe I’m spoiled and used to getting my way. Maybe I have too much confidence for my own good. Or maybe something inside me just knows that Campbell is different.Wecould be different. More than a hookup. More than just two people thrown together by proximity and opportunity. Just…more.
“Look. I like you. You’re…” God, I feel like a fucking adolescent as I struggle to find the words that will convey how I feel without scaring her, or me, with their intensity. “Unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and I need… well, fuck, I don’t know exactly what I need, but I know thatweneed to stop being a couple of bitches and actually do something about this.” I drop one hand from her shoulder to motion between us.
“Bitches?” She chuckles before getting serious again. “We work together,” she repeats. “I mean, technically, I workforyou, even though I have my own company.”
“Are you worried what people will think?” I’m not stupid; I know the world is unfair to women. That’s why I invented my dick app in the first place, after all. But maybe I’m the only one with feelings strong enough to think that, together, we won’t let it matter.
“I hate saying this, because it’s unfair and a cliché, but it’s true. It’sdifferentfor men than it is for women. If anyone knew that we”—she flails her hands about—“you know, or even if they thought we did, I’d be the one facing rumors and innuendo. Not you.”
She’s right. I don’t want her to be right, but she is. “I wouldneversay anything if you didn’t want me to.”
The pinch is back between her brows, like she’s thinking. I trail one finger between her eyes and down her nose, smoothing out the frown.
“Look, it’s Friday. We have nowhere to be and nothing to do for the next two days. Unless you’re jetting back to Houston again?”
