While he’s gone, Athena and I practice more commands. It’s harder to keep her attention in the unfamiliar environment, but we do okay.
“Here.” Vann holds out a small, black gift bag.
“What’s this?”
“Some stuff I had on hand.”
Inside the bag is a bunch of polished wood.
“Are these dog toys?”
“No, doofus. They’re for you.”
“For me?” I shake the bag, and Vann makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “What?”
“Just...go easy on them, okay? Took me ages to get that finish.”
I watch him for a second, trying to understand what he’s saying. Color rises on his cheeks, which makes my own face heat too, because it’s nearly impossible to embarrass Vann.
“Are you...are you lending me sex toys?”
“Ew, no. Not even Charlie clean means I’d share a prostate massager with you.”
“It’s a prostate massager?” I say.
“What’s a prostate massager?” Jess says as she comes through the apartment door.
Oh god. Jess is hardly a prude, but she’s only a little younger than my mom.
“Nothing. Sorry. Thanks for looking after my dog!”
I flee the apartment. Mason and I can figure out what’s in the bag together.
10
Mason
I can’t rememberthe last time someone other than West came out to the house. About midafternoon, a few hours before Charlie is supposed to arrive, I’m suddenly possessed with the urge to straighten things up. I’ve spent less than a day with him and he’s already rubbing off on me.
Dante is very upset when I vacuum and glares from the corner. Juniper sleeps through all the chaos. About halfway through my attempts to fold my dish towels in three the way I remember my mom doing when I was a kid, I suddenly realize that I’m nervous. Of what? Charlie doesn’t make me nervous. But somehow, having him in my home does.
He said he needed casual, and I can sympathize with his need to take things slow. So I’m overdoing it. Sex. No bank robberies, no interior design photoshoots. Just sex. That’s what we’re doing.
I manage to walk away from the towels, but I’m sitting on my sofa wondering if I should have gotten a new carpet for the living room when a knock sounds on the door.
Too late for the carpet. Thank goodness for small mercies.
Dante barks and dances in circles as I let Charlie in.
“Hey. Hi. Sorry.”
“For what?” I ask.
Charlie pauses on the doorstep and frowns. “What?”
“You apologized. What are you sorry for?”
“Oh. Um. Nothing. Just a habit, I guess.”
