Page 15 of Whirlwind
“No way! What a weird coincidence,” she says, bending to pick up the dog running circles around her feet. “You must be Nightmare.”
He licks her nose, making her laugh as she coos at him.
“It is strange for a city this size.”
“Definitely, but I like that you have someone we know so close by. I’ll worry less about you.”
“You don’t have to worry at all, I’m a big girl. Besides, I’ve been living on my own for months, now, since you moved in with your men.”
“Yeah,” she says, putting Nightmare down and tossing his toy giraffe for him. “But that was in a secure building. You don’t even have an alarm system here.”
“No, but I’m not exactly in the worst part of town, either.”
“Just promise me you’ll get one installed soon.”
“I promise. Again.” I’ve already told her I would. She offered to pay for it, but that’s silly. I can install one myself.
I think, anyway. YouTube will help, surely.
“He’s fucking cute,” she says, rubbing Nightmare’s head when he trots back with the stuffy in his mouth.
“He is,” I agree. “I feel bad leaving him home alone all day, but he’s done well.”
“That’s good. You ready to go?”
“Yep, let me just put him in his crate,” I tell her. “To your room, Nightmare.”
He bounds toward the kennel, his little bum bouncing side to side, making his nametag jingle on his collar.
“Oh my God, he needs to stop being so damn cute,” Willa says.
“Right? I can’t get over it.” I grab my handbag and follow her out front. As we round Willa’s car, Tyson comes out of his house.
“Willa Cole? That you?” he hollers from across the street.
“As I live and breathe,” she answers in an exaggerated Southern drawl as he crosses the road to us.
“It’s good to see you.” He wraps her up in a hug. I’d be jealous if I could feel such a useless emotion. Jeez…am I jealous?
Am I capable of it? Am I feeling that right now?
No, no. That can’t be it, I’m probably just hungry.
“Hey, Kit,” he says to me after they exchange polite pleasantries with each other.
“Hey. I’ve been meaning to thank you for the gift,” I say. “Just haven’t seen you.”
“Haven’t you?” His brow raises as he asks.
“If you didn’t want an audience, you wouldn’t do it in front of floor-to-ceiling glass,” I answer, rolling my eyes, though heat warms my chest from being caught spying through his window.
“What am I missing?” Willa asks, leaning against her car, her head bouncing between Tyson and me.
“He does yoga in the sunroom up there,” I say, nodding my head toward his house.
“She watches,” he accuses playfully.
“Which means you watch her, too, creeper,” Willa volleys back at him.
