by Lane Hart
“Perfect.” I finish the sentence for her.
“Yeah,” Kira agrees, giving me a brief smile. “I want it to be good, for both of us. I’m going to try.”
“I’m going to do the same,” I reply, reaching over to brush her hair back over her shoulder, being careful not to touch her skin. “I might be set in some of my rough and not-so-fluffy ways, but I promise you, I will try.”
Chapter Fifteen
Kira
We’ve only lived together for a few days, but I’m already starting to get to know more about the stranger I married.
He eats a lot of bacon, drinks gallons of beer, stays out late often, and never takes off his wedding ring. Not that I take mine off either. It’s just comforting to see the piece of jewelry on his tough, masculine, tattooed hand even though we barely talk, making me feel like we’re still in this together. But the most peculiar thing about Miles is he watches a lot of Animal Planet.
My dad loved to watch sports, usually soccer or hockey, so that’s what I grew up having to endure. Even though I love animals, I find his choice of entertainment a bit odd.
I thought for sure a tough guy like Miles would prefer to sit back and enjoy fights, race cars, or something else masculine on television.
Instead, he watches wild animals and nature shows.
Unable to hold my tongue any longer, I finally breakdown and ask him one afternoon.
“Why Animal Planet?”
“Huh?” Miles replies while glancing over at me on the opposite end of the sofa.
“You watch this channel a lot. Is there a reason?”
“I don’t know. I guess I envy the animals,” he says before taking a swig of his beer, then resting the bottom on the top of his jean-covered thigh again.
“Why do you envy them?” I ask since he seems to be doing pretty well for himself.
“Their lives are simple,” he explains when his gaze returns to the flat screen. “They eat, sleep, fight, fuck and kill whenever the hell they want without any judgment. Humans need reasons and explanations for every damn thing. It’s exhausting.”
“Oh,” I say as if I understand what he’s talking about.
“Besides, they have a lot of those wildlife cop shows. I thought about being a cop when I was younger.”
Miles’ expression darkens, and he quickly finishes off the rest of his beer. I can tell there’s a story there, so I ask him, “It seems like you ended up a long way from that life. Did something happen to change your mind or set you on a different path?”
“Yeah,” Miles grunts. Without any further explanation, he gets up to throw away his can and get another beer.
“You got any big plans for tomorrow?” Miles asks me when he returns, clearly trying to steer the subject to something else. I don’t want to push him on his past until he is ready, so I let it pass for now.
“I was actually thinking about going over to the animal shelter tomorrow and volunteering for a few hours.”
“Volunteering to do what?” Miles asks as he cracks open the can. I notice he can do it with only one hand, and I can’t help but be slightly impressed.
“You know, clean out cages, feed animals, play with them and make sure they’re not getting lonely.”
“Have fun with that,” Miles snorts.
“Well, I was thinking, if you’re not busy…” I trail off expectantly.
“What, you want me to come? To clean up dog shit? I would rather…” Miles begins, but then after looking at me for a moment, his expression softens and he sighs. “If you want, yeah, I’ll come with you. But you’re dealing with the shit!”
“Deal,” I grin. “It will be fun, you’ll see. A lot of the animals there have been abandoned and are desperate for attention. They’ll love you!”
“Well…we’ll see,” Miles sighs. “I have to warn you; the way Blackjack has acted towards me isn’t usual. The dogs probably won’t think much of me.”
“Blackjack adores you. What are you talking about?” I protest. I reach down to rub the puppy, who is sleeping at my feet; then pick him up to hold him out to Miles. As soon as he gets close, Blackjack begins licking the air frantically, trying to get close enough for a kiss.
Miles reaches over to take him from me and lets the puppy squirm all over him before setting him back down on the floor. “That little skunk would love anyone who fed him, that’s all. I’m going to head to bed. Just let me know when you’re ready to go tomorrow. You going to hang out in here?”
“Yeah, I guess I’ll stay up a while,” I reply, uncertain of Miles’ intentions. Does he want me to come to bed with him? Does he just want to sleep, or something more? I wish he wasn’t so damned hard to read!
Before I can think of anything else to say or do, Miles mutters, “Good night,” and walks away. We seemed to be getting along so well for a moment there, I think as I wrap myself in my blanket on the couch. How does it always switch back to being so awkward so quickly?
The next morning Blackjack wakes me up early whining to go for a walk. By the time we return, I can already hear the shower running, so I know Miles is awake. I start the coffee and then gather my clothes together so I can take over the bathroom once he’s done.
“Good morning,” he nods to me as we pass each other in the hallway. “I’ll be ready when you are.”
“Okay,” I say to his back as he walks away. “I made coffee!” I call down the hall, then duck into the steamy bathroom. God, the man takes thousand-degree showers. The air in the bathroom is absolutely stifling.
I get ready quickly, not bothering with much make-up since we’re not going to be doing anything too glamorous today. When I emerge from the bathroom in my tank top and cut-off shorts, Miles just stares at me from the couch.
“Everything okay?” I ask him, suddenly concerned that I’m dressed too far down, and trying to remember if he’s seen me without makeup so far.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re good,” Miles replies with a shake of his head. “You okay with taking my bike?”
“Sure, that will be fun,” I reply, trying to hide the nervous tremor in my voice. I’ve been thinking some inappropriate thoughts about riding on his motorcycle and have only recently realized just how intimate a process it actually can be.
Once we’re outside, Miles hands me a helmet, then climbs onto his motorcycle and starts it while I fumble with the straps under my chin. Watching me with the hint of a smile across his full lips, he finally motions me closer and deftly fastens the helmet for me. I take a moment to look at his long, muscular frame holding the Harley up straight before I throw a leg over the seat behind him, then try to situate my feet on the pegs.
“Lean forward into me,” Miles calls back to me before he starts moving.
I press my chest against the back of his leather cut, feeling the raised edges of his patch press into my breasts. I tentatively lay my hands on the sides of his hips. “You’re going to want to hold on tight,” he says with a hint of laughter in his voice, before twisting the throttle and dropping the bike into gear.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the wind tears at my eyes, gasping as the air is ripped from my lungs. I feel Miles shift and realize that I’ve practically got him in the Heimlich maneuver, my fists knotted together and pressed into his belly so hard it’s amazing he can even breathe. “Are you laughing?” I yell as I feel his shoulders rising and falling unsteadily.
“I’m trying not to, I swear!” he yells back over the roar of the engine. “I’ve never had anyone tickle me so badly while riding!”
“You’re ticklish?” I cry in delight, poking a finger into his side.
The sudden swerve of the bike forces my hand back around the front of Miles’ cut, and the sounds of our laughter mixing trail after us as we continue our ride. In only a few minutes, and without any further reckless tickles, we arrive at the county animal shelter.
“I bet you won’t do that again,” Miles says as he kills the engine and leans the bike over on its kickstand.
&nb
sp; “Not while we’re on the motorcycle, but I might try and ambush you with a tickle now and then. You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”
“You seemed to be having fun at least,” Miles observes as we walk into the shelter together.
“I think I did,” I reply. “It’s a good thing too, because it looks like we might be doing that a lot together.”
“Yeah, if you hang around with me long enough, you might even learn to ride yourself.”
“Who said I can’t?” I tease him.
The shelter had just opened, so when the two of us appear at the front desk and let them know we would like to volunteer to help clean, the staff are more than happy for the assistance. After showing us where to find the cleaning supplies, and having us sign some waivers, the two of us are escorted into a long room full of cages, filled with the sounds of barking, howling animals.
“God, this is hell,” Miles mutters. He has a bag of dog food thrown over his shoulder, which he sits down and then slashes open with a knife he draws from his belt. “I’m going to try and feed this first guy but be ready for the worst.”
As soon as Miles approaches the cage, the dog, a small, scruffy looking mutt, charges the gate growling and snarling. Miles jumps back, then turns to me sheepishly. “Maybe you should just pass me the bowl,” he mutters.
“That might be best,” I grin as I stroll past him, the small dog immediately sitting down with its tail wagging joyfully. I open the cage and reach in to rub his short, coarse fur, then grab the empty bowl and pass it out to Miles. A moment later, I place the full bowl back inside the cage and give the dog another quick rub on his back as he digs in, his entire rear end wagging furiously.
“I don’t know why they act that way towards me,” Miles says with a hint of sadness.
“You’re intimidating,” I tell him with a shrug. “I kind of felt the same way when I first saw you. Just a little scared…”
“Don’t say that,” Miles interrupts me sharply. Softening his tone, he continues, “That’s never what I intended, not for you. I don’t want to scare you.”
“You don’t now. Not quite as much,” I tell him with a grin.
We move through the rows of cages, Miles staying well back as we continue feeding and watering the animals as needed, the two of us finishing the area in just under an hour. “Okay,” I tell Miles, “Now we’re on to the cats!”
Miles groans audibly, but otherwise follows along dutifully as we walk to the side of the building where the cat cages are kept. An older woman is already in there, scooping out cat litter from a cage low to the floor.
“Oh, hello there, you two,” she says as she pets the cat inside the cage before closing the door. “I’ve almost finished up in here, except for that top row there. My old shoulders aren’t too good at overhead work anymore, and honestly, that orange fellow on the end there is a vicious sort.”
“Oh, the poor thing,” I croon as I approach the cage, peering in to try and see if the cat appeared obviously abused. When an orange paw filled with bared razors lashes out through the grate, I quickly jerk back.
“Damn,” Miles mutters as the cat presses his face to the cage door to hiss at me. “Might want to pass on that one. He’s one angry little dude.”
“Wait, Miles, keep talking,” I tell him when the cat suddenly stops hissing, its ears perking up to listen to Miles’ voice.
“What? You want me to talk to the cat?” Miles says as he points to the cage. “Hey, he does seem to be calming down,” he observes as he moves closer. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” he calls. “You’re a good little puss-puss. Please don’t claw my eyes out, kitty-kitty.”
As he approaches the gate, the orange cat visibly relaxes, folding its front paws under its chest as it laid down near the gate, then rubbing the side of its face against the cage door as Miles draws close. “Well, look at that,” Miles says in wonder. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the clever little bastard was trying to lure me close so he could eat me.”
“Do you want to try to open the cage and see if he’ll let you touch him?” I ask. “I’m not saying you should,” I quickly add.
“No, no, let’s play this out,” Miles says as he lifts the latch on the cage. “I’ve never tried to deal much with cats. This is kind of…I don’t know, if he actually likes me, it’s kind of cool.” As Miles opens the gate, the cat stands up; but instead of hissing or clawing at him, it lets out a long, plaintive ‘meow’, then stretches its neck out to sniff at Miles’ face.
“Hey, buddy,” Miles croons as he reaches up to scratch the cat’s side. When it becomes clear that the animal will allow it, Miles scoops the cat up and cradles it to his chest, turning back to me with a huge grin on his face.
“That cat looks like it’s smiling as much as you are,” I observe as he continues rubbing the bright orange fur. “Here, I’ll clean up his cage while you two entertain each other.”
“I can’t believe he actually likes me,” Miles says as I work on the cage. “I’ve never seen any animal react like this to me.”
“Maybe he knew he couldn’t intimidate you,” I joke with him. “Or maybe just the sight of you struck such fear into him he knew he had to change his tune!”
“That’s not it, is it, kitty-kitty?” Miles purrs. “Who’s a sweet boy? You’re a sweet boy!” he continues, now cradling the vicious orange devil like a baby.
Once I get done with the cage, Miles reluctantly puts the cat back in, patting him one more time before he sets the latch. The cat lets out one more long, sad ‘meow’ before Miles turns away. As I study his face, for a brief moment, I see something in his eyes that causes a stab of pain in my heart.
“You all right?” I ask Miles gently.
“I think he really liked me,” Miles shrugs.
“Is that so unbelievable? That someone could like you that much?”
“I don’t know,” Miles replies, his voice hardening and the brief moment of sadness passing. “I’m just not used to it, that’s all. Come on, we all done here?” he asks gruffly.
This time I see right through his tough guy façade and know that if he spent much more time here, he would end up running a cat rescue out of his house. Our house. “Yeah, that’s all for today. Let’s get out of here, go get some lunch.”
“Hey,” Miles stops me with a light touch on my arm before we left the room. “Thanks for bringing me here. I mean, it was nasty as hell, but…thanks. I think I needed something like this.”
“We can do it again, you and me,” I reassure him. “Keep an open mind, there’s no telling what sort of wild things we’ll show each other.”
Chapter Sixteen
Kira
It’s a beautiful day, not too chilly. So, after I take Jack out, I decide to walk down to the beach.
Of course I leave a note for Miles; because for the past few weeks, he’s been leaving me notes telling me whenever he goes to the Savage Asylum, whatever that is. He’s never invited me, and I’ve never asked, trying to avoid becoming a nagging wife.
When I get through the public access path, there’s a volleyball net to the right with a group of people playing on either side.
They’re all laughing and joking. It looks like they’re having fun.
I take a seat in the sand to watch the waves roll in, soaking up the sun and the salty scent that reminds me of home.
This is the first time I’ve been away for more than a week, and I miss my parents.
Each morning I call and talk to them to check in, which makes me sad for the rest of the day when Miles leaves me home alone with Jack.
I want more here in my new home. I’ve never felt so lonely living with someone else. Miles barely talks unless it’s to ask what I want to eat. He gets takeout from so many amazing restaurants that I’ve probably gained ten pounds since I got here.
I’ve been eating my feelings, which also makes me sad.
Why can’t Miles just open up and talk to me about what he does every day
, or offer to take me with him when he leaves the house? The day we went to the animal shelter together was great, but I’ve been going back on my own ever since because he declines my offer to join me. Which is confusing because I thought he had a good time. Guess I was wrong.
Is this how the rest of my life is going to be? Boring while I sit alone at home with the dog?
I could take Jack and go visit my parents for a few days, but I’m afraid that Miles will get angry because I want to leave, especially after our wedding night when he made me promise not to leave him.
So I won’t just yet.
Maybe in a few weeks he’ll trust me that, when I leave for a few days, I will come back.
When the white volleyball comes rolling up beside me, I snap out of my inner musings to stand up and serve it back to the group.
“Thanks!” the blonde girl that catches it says. Then she starts over to me instead of back to the waiting group at the net. “You play?” she asks.
“Ah, I played a little, in high school.”
“We’re a player short on our side if you want to join us?” she offers.
“Oh, yeah. If you’re sure?” I ask since I don’t want to intrude on their game.
“Come on,” she says with a tilt of her head toward the net. “I’m Kelly, by the way. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys.”
“I’m Kira,” I tell her.
“Well, Kira,” she says when she tosses me the ball. “You’re serving for us this time, and we’re gonna kick some ass.”
Miles
I’m not all that surprised when I come home from the Savage Asylum and Kira’s not there.
“Where did she go today?” I ask Blackjack after I crouch down and give the hyper little shit a rub behind his ears.
Hell, I would love to go wherever my wife goes all day, every day, but I can’t take the torture of wanting to not only touch her but strip her naked and fuck her on the nearest hard surface. I’ve been trying to keep those urges in check since the feeling is apparently not mutual if she still refuses to sleep in the same bed with me. And I’m trying my damnedest to figure out how to talk to her without pouring out my guts like a pussy and epically failing.