The luck you wish for is granted, she texted back. Followed by the genie emoji.
Now go to sleep, Ashanti couldn’t help adding.
She needed to take her own advice, but the chances of getting any rest tonight were as slim as stealing back any of the covers from Duchess.
She pushed up from the bed and headed for the dresser. The two things she wanted most right now—sex and sleep—would not be happening anytime soon. A cupcake would have to do.
25
What in the entire fuck, Puddin’!”
Thad stood in the bathroom doorway, praying he was mistaken about what those dark brown blobs dotting the floor were, but knowing he wasn’t. Mainly because it was the smell of liquid dog shit that had woken him from the piss-poor sleep he’d been struggling to get.
It was just after four a.m. A car was scheduled to pick them up at six thirty to get them to the studio in plenty of time before their spot in the morning show’s nine o’clock hour.
“A half hour,” Thad said. “All I wanted was another half hour of sleep.”
Puddin’ let out a mournful wail and began turning in a circle. Then he hunched down on his skinny legs.
“No,” Thad said, but it was too late. Fuck! The bathroom floor looked like a dalmatian.
For a moment, Thad just stood there, paralyzed. What was he supposed to do with this? He didn’t want to use the hotel’s towels to pick it up, but he didn’t want to call housekeeping to take care of it either. There wasn’t a tip he couldleave that would be large enough to compensate a room attendant having to clean up this mess.
But before he took care of the bathroom, he had to see about this dog.
“Youwoulddecide to get sick when you’re hundreds of miles away from your vet,” Thad said.
His vet may not be close, but the next best thing was just a door away.
He hated to wake Ashanti this early, but he knew she’d be angrier if he let her sleep and risked Puddin’s health. Seeing as she was raising twin sixteen-year-olds, he doubted she had her text messages silenced during overnight hours, so he took a chance and sent a text.
Within one minute there was a knock on the door that connected their two rooms.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asked as soon as Thad opened his side of the double doors.
He took a second to process her attire. The faded, threadbare New Orleans Saints T-shirt and cut-off sweats confirmed everything he already knew. She was his perfect woman. He had never been one for lacy lingerie—that shit was itchy, not sexy. Give him soft, warm, and comfortable.
She lookedsosoft, warm, and comfortable.
“Thad, what’s going on with Puddin’?” she asked.
He jerked to attention and shook his head.
“Uh, I don’t know,” he said, stepping out of the way so she could enter the room. “He has the shits. The bathroom is a disaster zone.”
“Puddin’ Pop,” she called. “What’s the matter?”
Why did Thad suddenly want a cute, stupid nickname? He hated himself right now.
He started to close the door just as Duchess came waddling into the room on her stout little legs, following Ashanti to the bathroom. He joined them.
Ashanti looked up from the floor, where she was already attacking a liquid shit pile with toilet tissue.
“This isn’t that bad,” she said.
“Isn’t bad?” What in the hell was it, if not bad?
“No. He’s probably just nervous because he’s in a strange environment. It tends to happen to some dogs. I have loperamide in my bag because I was afraid Duchess would need some.” She threw the wad of tissue in the toilet and flushed. Then she rubbed Puddin’ on the head. “A little of that and a tummy rub should do the trick, huh, boy,” Ashanti said.
