“Don’t squeeze too tightly,” I warn when Ginny looks like one of her eyes may pop out from nerves. They’re skittish animals. “Do you want to use a towel while you hold her to be safe?”
Hudson looks down at the little fur ball he’s holding and manages a smile. “No, I trust the little rat. She won’t poop on me. Besides how big can it be?”
He’s obviously never spent time around small animals. The size of the poop isn’t the problem. It’s about the frequency of the poop.
I shrug it off and grab Cupcake out of the cage. She settles into my arms easily while Ginny tries desperately to jump out of Hudson’s grasp.
“We should sit,” I say walking to the living room.
The fear in Hudson’s eyes tells me it’s a good idea, even if he only nods at the suggestion.
Hudson is barely settled with his butt on the couch before Ginny has the carrot from his hands and rests against the side of his arm chewing it as quickly as possible. She knows if her sister gets anywhere near her food it’s gone.
Hudson stares at her little wiggling body with a smile. “You are too cute,” he says in the manliest baby talk I’ve ever heard. “And you won’t poop on me. Will you?”
He pets the top of her head, continuing to whisper cute little words, which melt my heart. For real. If he’s this way was with guinea pigs, imagine how he’d be with a baby.
Not that I’m daydreaming about Hudson with a baby. That would be absurd. I might be reaching my thirtieth birthday, but my biological clock is not crazy. At least not that I’m willing to admit to myself or anyone else.
Ginny finishes up the last few bites of her carrot and then promptly lays her entire body against Hudson’s arm. The overstuffed little pig plops down like eating has taken so much energy out of her she has to rest. He smiles and continues petting her head, but I know what this sign precursors.
“Look, she likes me.”
I smirk and laugh continuing to hold the carrot for Cupcake. “I bet she does.”
A minute or so passes before Hudson’s eyes grow in alarm and his head raises in desperation looking for escape. Too bad there isn’t one. “Amanda…”
“Hudson,” I respond even though it’s not hard to guess exactly what he’s about to say.
“She peed on me! The bottom of my shirt is wet.” Horror spikes his words.
I laugh, the sound startling Cupcake. “Ginny definitely peed on you. She likes you, remember?”
He looks back down. Some of the horror has washed away from his face before it grows again. “Oh my God…” he says standing.
As he rises off the couch, three to four little pieces of black poop fall from underneath his arm.
“She pooped on me.”
“You should take a towel next time.” I pet Cupcake on the nose, giving her a silent good girl. She’s much less likely to poop than her sister. “We can put them back if you want.”
Hudson sits back down staring at the little fluff ball with confusion. “No,” he says sighing, “she’s already done her business.”
What he doesn’t get is how much business she can do. But he’ll soon find out.
I’m about to warn Hudson of the second round of poop sure to come when my phone rings. I pause. Any other day it could be a casual cell phone call, probably Aspen inviting me to hang out this evening, but after today’s flower delivery I’m nervous and decide not to answer.
10
“Are you sure I can’t use something to con you into coming?” Aspen asks as Marissa yells in the background. I can’t hear it from my end, but I’m sure what she said was Marissa-ish.
I twist a piece of hair around my finger and lean back on the couch. “No, but you have fun. It’s been a long day and I need to relax.”
“Yeah, I bet you need to relax. With the hot guy you’ve got staying with you.” Aspen laughs and keeps gasping for air between laughter for another good minute before she’s able to gain control of herself. “How is work? Does anyone even notice I’m gone?”
“Of course, they do.” Unfortunately, it’s not necessarily the way Aspen probably hopes. I have no plans of telling her how a bunch of our coworkers had a pool going on how long the new billionaire’s wife would make it before she quit. Jesse Pervis from the warehouse made over a grand.
“Guess who they fired?” I ask to steer the question away.
