Page 25 of Missiletoe
“Mike is the fireman who came here six months ago to do an inspection. He became my roommate right after because he heard me complaining about Cynthia moving out. He talks about you constantly.”
“I’m glad you got a new roommate,” I said politely, edging my way toward the lobby. It was time for me to go.
“Jesus, Paris, I’d say you were horrible if I didn’t know you truly don’t notice these things.”
I shrugged again.
I never understood Melanie when she went on like that. I could probably find the desire to figure it out if I had the time, but there was always a new thing popping up at the shelter requiring my attention.
“You’ve got Sylvia from here, right?” I was all but dancing from foot to foot now. I really needed to see Vix. His name was becoming a mantra in the back of my head, and it was getting loud.
“What’s up with you today? Hot date?”
Normally I would have laughed. I am no Romeo. I’m just the friendly neighborhood oddball who everyone seems to tolerate in a friendly way to some degree. That day I didn’t laugh because she reminded me that I had very little experience wooing someone. Romance had just never seemed important to me before.
I’m not stupid. I knew where my fascination with Vix was going. The heat that raced through my body every time I touched Vix meant something. Combined with my newfound possessiveness, it could mean only one thing.
So I didn’t laugh. Instead, I said very seriously, “I’m going to get my bunny.”
Melanie looked taken aback for some reason. “O-okay, Paris. You go get your bunny. I’ll take care of things here while you’re gone.”
“Thank you,” I said with a soft smile. In my mind, I was already back at Vix’s house, surrounded by his eclectic collection of gadgets and doodads.
* * *
Trixie materialized at my side once I reached Vix’s home. I mean, not literally. She’d probably followed me and had been stalking me from the bushes or something. She was funny like that.
I took in the building Vix lived in as I walked down the path leading to the porch. I had been preoccupied when I’d been there earlier and hadn’t had a chance to appreciate it.
It was a huge, hulking monstrosity of a house. It looked like it had been a traditional colonial mansion back in its day—which had to have been at least two hundred years ago. Now it was a crazy hodgepodge of additions. Some suited the home, but some were completely outlandish. It had an actual turret. The castle tower kind, not the gun-holding kind.
Why did the English language need the word turret to mean two wildly different things? It took me ages to realize they weren’t the same thing. Reading historical fantasy had been incredibly confusing to me for a while there.
I knocked on the door and was wondering if I should have brought flowers just as it opened.
Baz greeted me with, “This is gonna be fucking amazing,” and then he vanished into the gloom of the foyer.
I turned to Trixie and said, “I’m not sure if you can come in. I haven’t found out if these are dog people yet.”
Trixie huffed a doggy sound that signaled deep disdain.
She has zero tolerance for non-dog people. I, however, have plenty of tolerance. In my opinion, non-dog people are just dog people who haven’t met the right dog yet.
“We arenotdog people, or cat people, or any nonhuman kind of people. Didn’t you read the sign?”
A tiny, blond bundle of adorableness skidded to a stop in front of me and pointed at the massive sign covering the door from top to bottom. It hosted a list of things not allowed into the house and every single bit of space was filled.No cats!!!!was at the very top in bold letters. Directly underneath, it read,No dogs either!!!!
Huh. How had I missed that?
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.
“You should be!” The tiny blond snapped.
“I was talking to Trixie,” I told him before turning back to Trixie.
I have little patience for anyone who isthatopen about their animal issues. Maybe the perfect dog for him was out there, but with that attitude, I wasn’t sure I wanted to help him find it.
Trixie snorted and pawed at my leg.
