Page 94 of Damascus & The Wildfire
“Wake up, Mrs. Morris,” Merrick said, his deep voice making my pulse rise before I even opened my eyes. “I have a surprise for you.”
In the week since our impromptu wedding, Merrick had woken me with a latte and a new surprise every morning. So far, he’d given me breakfast in bed, a new leather jacket, an enormous bouquet of flowers, and a ruby necklace. I insisted it was unnecessary. I didn’t need gifts to feel cherished. Merrick made me feel that way every second just being himself.
I groaned and buried my face deeper into the pillow, refusing to give in just yet. Something thudded softly on the mattress beside me. Moments later, a soft muzzle sniffed my hair and a warm, rough tongue licked my ear.
“What the fuck?” I shrieked, rolling over just in time to see a small, wriggling furball launching for my face again.
Merrick scooped up the puppy into his arms. “Sorry.” He chuckled. “I didn’t expect her to attack you like that.”
I sat up and stared, barely processing. “Hold up—did you … get us a puppy?”
He cradled the fluffy bundle against his chest, one big palm easily holding her squirming body still. “Remember the puppy you kept showing me on Instagram last week? The one Maisie found behind the bakery? No one claimed her. She’s yours now. Ours.”
Merrick set the puppy back onto the bed ,and she bounded into my lap. I ran my hands through her light tan and black fur. Her tail whipped against the mattress as she snapped her tiny jaws at my chin.
“The vet thinks she’s a purebred Malinois,” Merrick added.
“What should we name her?”
“That’s up to you, Wildfire,” he said as he petted Brisket, who leaned affectionately against his thighs.
I held the puppy up, gazing into her warm, brown eyes that shone with the promise of mischief. “How about Waffles?”
“Waffles?”
“Yeah, Belgian Waffles.” I snickered at the joke. The puppy yawned in agreement, and I set her back onto the bed.
Merrick shook his head. “Christ, woman. What am I going to do with you?”
“Feed me breakfast?” I asked hopefully as he handed me the latte.
Merrick grinned. “I can do that. Are you nervous? Today’s the big day.”
Waffles bounded to the end of the bed and attempted to dive off the side like a canine Evel Knievel. Merrick caught her mid-air as she let out a bark of protest. He set her on the floor and leaned in to cage me with his arms. He kissed me, his tender yet possessive touch grounding me. Brisket approached, tail wagging as Waffles began to nip at his paws.
I took a long sip of the latte, letting the cardamom and cinnamon sweetness coat my tongue. “I’m excited. I can’t believe it’s finally opening.”
We’d worked our asses off to open the Ignite Strength Center. Today, we would begin to welcome women and girls who deserved safety and hope. For those who didn’t have a family like the Mavericks to protect them. And through our partnership with the local women’s shelter, we already had a waiting list of women and girls who were ready to reclaim their power.
“I’m proud of you, Wildfire,” Merrick said warmly. “We all are.”
The entire Mavericks family had rallied around me to make my dream of empowering women in the community a reality. Built within an old firehouse, the Ignite Strength Center offered a full gym, an art studio, and a computer lab.
My phone pinged with a text message.
Eva:
I have every local news channel lined up to cover the ribbon cutting today!
Me:
You’re on maternity leave. Stop working.
Eva:
The twins are asleep. By the way, one of my clients wants to make a donation so you can add more art classes. He wants to know how much for naming rights to the art studio.
Merrick’s mother, Maren, had moved back to the area six months ago and volunteered to teach classes in painting and pottery. But with the cost of supplies, we’d only been able to offer ten spots.
