Page 5 of Soothed By Daddy
If he’d been a jerk, it would be easier, but Cyrus had ruined that by being nonchalant about the whole thing. He saw me cry, saw me shuffle walk because I hurt so much, and saw me in adinosauronesie. Then, after all that, he had the audacity to walk out of my living room as if we’d been talking about the weather.
It was past time to place my weekly treat order, but I’d been putting it off for days. If I ordered online, it could be delivered the next day. But the idea of a glass bottle drop-off now felt like a punishment.
I’d had it warm, sweet, and from Cyrus’s chest. Stoic, sexy, and definitely not into me. The idea of getting an impersonal delivery when I’d had an alternative that was infinitely better felt like such a letdown.
My thoughts had been so preoccupied about how I’d fix the awkwardness between Cyrus and me that I hadn’t even been able to get a handle on any of the projects around the house on my schedule. I knew it was ridiculous because there wasn’t a need to fix anything between Cyrus and me. There was no reason we couldn’t go back to essentially ignoring each other, my peeks from behind the curtain notwithstanding, but I didn’t like it. I wanted to be friends with him, and maybe that was selfish on my part because I hoped he might offer his milk again.
When I got up this morning, I decided that today was the day I would get things done. I’d already spent a solid six hours working on the current project from hell. As long as no other adjustments were demanded, I’d made real progress on the manual. But now I’d stared at the computer screen for so long that my brain had stopped functioning. And assuming Cyrus followed his usual schedule, I would have until six p.m. to work on our shared foyer before he got home. Unfortunately for me, it was another wallpaper day. Ugh. It had become my least favorite chore, but I couldn’t move on until it was finished.
With my supplies gathered, I headed out the door to start work. Since no one else was around, it didn’t matter if the portable speaker blared my favorite playlist.
The duck wanted grapes. The dinos wanted to stomp. I wanted to finish before my arms fell off.
Scoring to the beat helped me keep the project moving, which was still slow but a little faster than a snail’s pace.
“You’re never going to finish like that.”
“Gah!” I screamed. “Oh my heart! Why’d you sneak up on me?” My heart pounded so hard it felt like it was going to beat out ofmy chest, matching my ragged breathing. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Oh shit, sorry,” Cyrus said, raising his hands in surrender. “I thought you heard me. But, yeah, you’re doing it wrong.”
When my lungs managed to work again, I took a few deep breaths and turned to evaluate the wall. I tilted my head to one side because it helped me think. Hmm, what was I doing wrong? I had ugly wallpaper and the score thingy.
“Where’s your soaking material?”
“My what now?”
“The spray that loosens the adhesive after you score.”
“The guy at the home improvement store didn’t mention that.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Well, I said I needed a score thingy and he showed me.”
“Sorry, buddy, he probably didn’t realize you didn’t know what you were doing.” Cyrus smirked. “If only you knew someone who did construction…”
“If only I did,” I answered with a smirk of my own. His grin didn’t fade.
Was this flirting? It felt like flirting.
“How’d you do my side if you didn’t know what you were doing?” Cyrus looked confused. “It looks good.”
“I needed to find a tenant ASAP, so I paid for that and planned to do my side whenever.” Cyrus didn’t look overly impressed with my plan. “It doesn’t matter since it’s only me.”
“Except you’re living in a disaster zone. It could be a death trap at night if you get up for a drink,” Cyrus insisted. Concern was etched across his face. “You’re a little, right?”
Oh. Okay. I guess we were going to talk about that.
“Yes, but it’s not like I’m little all the time. Most of the time, I’m a fully functioning adult. Well, really, all the time, but sometimes, I pretend otherwise.” I scuffed one shoe against the other. Cyrus looked down at the noise, and his eyebrows raised when he saw I had on my light-up shoes. They were super cute, but they didn’t exactly support myI’m-a-grown-upstatement. His eyes lingered on them and I wasn’t sure if that meant anything.
“Hmm.” Cyrus’s noncommittal answer told me nothing either.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that your dinosaurs are finished stomping,” he answered with a nod to the finished track. Then, with a sigh, he took the score tool out of my hand and said, “Here, give me that. I’ll trade you for a rent check.” Cyrus handed me a folded piece of paper and I slipped it into my pocket. “Isn’t doing this what made you so sore last time?”
“Yeah, but I can go down to the store and ask about that stuff.”
