It’s like a Western standoff. We zero in on the stray strawberry-printed thong before sizing up one another. I lunge for it, but Goose is way quicker than me and snatches it up with ease.
“Drop it,” I demand, holding out my hand.
He wags his tail in response.
“Goose,” I warn, putting on my stern face. “Drop the thong.”
The speed of his tail wagging increases and he growls playfully.
“I’ll tell your dad you were being a bad boy if you don’t drop it.” I wiggle my fingers. “I’m serious. I’ll give you until the count of three. One… two…”
With another yip, he launches himself across my apartment like the Tasmanian Devil, sprinting laps around my kitchen table and couch, a wild gleam in his eyes. He changes directions a few times, miraculously managing not to break a kitchen chair or knock over a book pile when he spins around.
This goes on for a solid two minutes before he plops down at my feet, panting wildly, with the thong still in his mouth. Sighing, I head to the kitchen and turn on the Keurig. There’s no way I’ll get back to sleep after that sort of entertainment.
I’m adding milk to my freshly brewed coffee when Goose finally drops my underwear. Turns out the only incentive he needed was my lack of interest.Go figure. The thriller I was reading last night rests on my coffee table, the perfect way to spend an early morning. Instead, though, I can’t help but peer over at my computer, sitting by its lonesome self on my tiny kitchen table that doubles as a desk.
Since Jaden suggested I expand my short story, I’ve spent more time than I’d like to admit spacing out at work, letting the strands of the story weave themselves into a more fully formed plot in my head. But breathing life into that story? Giving the characters names and quirks and hobbies? Motivations, fears, goals? The enormousness of the idea is almost enough to make me swap out my coffee for a glass of wine.
I snag my thong off the floor—thank you very much, Goose—and head for the couch. Halfway there, though, I pivot and march to the kitchen table. I’m already up, so I may as well grab the bull by the horns and write a few of those ideas down… right?
Right.
By the time Cole saunters into the room in boxer briefs that showcase his impressive form perfectly, I’ve got a bare-bones outline typed up. And I don’t hate it.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” I greet him.
“Morning, baby.” He yawns, stretching his arms above his head. “I’m surprised you were up before me.”
I nod at Goose, who’s curled up in a ball behind my sofa. “This dude woke me in the middle of the night to take him out.” I pick up my mug and take a small sip. “And by the middle of the night, I mean, like, six o’clock, but that’s very early for me.”
“It is. Thanks for taking him out. I appreciate it.” He kisses the top of my head. “Do I want to know why your underwear is on the kitchen table?”
I let out an amused chuckle. “They fell out of the dryer and Goose thought it would be fun to run around my apartment with them in his mouth like the devil possessed. I put them there when he finally dropped ’em.”
“Dear God,” he groans, running a hand through his hair. “You want to go back to bed? I know you hate mornings.”
I hold up my mug, meeting his apologetic eyes. “One, I’ve already had two cups of coffee. Two, I’ve had a very productive morning, as a matter of fact. Three, it’s almost noon.”
One would think I’d just told Cole that the world is flat and we’re all figments of someone’s imagination. His gasp isthatdramatic. “Jesus. Why didn’t you wake me, My?”
I stand and brush my lips against his. “You looked so precious all snuggled up in my bed.”
“Precious?” He cocks a brow and chuckles. “Don’t think anyone’s called me that before.”
“Well, it’s true.” Warmth filters through me at his proximity. “And you were exhausted last night, so I figured you could use the extra sleep.”
He rubs a hand over his sleep-lined face. “Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well.”
My chest tightens in sympathy. “Everything okay?”
He pulls me into his arms, and I tuck my head under his chin, reveling in his body heat. I swear the guy’s a damn furnace. “Yeah. Just have a lot going on. And I missed you.”
“I guess I sort of, kind of, maybe, definitely missed you, too.”
The low laugh that escapes him vibrates through me. “Aw, thanks. Now, tell me about your productive morning.”
I can’t stop the smile that splits my face. “I’m tinkering with that short story. The one my teacher encouraged me to expand on.”
