by Tara Sivec
“I think I just had an orgasm.”
“I think I just vomited in my mouth,” I mumble. “Listen, we’re not even dating! He shouldn’t be doing any of this.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re dating.”
“We definitely are not. He asked me out several times, and I said no. I’m helping him find his otters; that’s it,” I argue with her, listing all the things we’ve done together the last few days, none of which have anything to do with dating.
“You have eaten more than one meal together, you’ve shared details about your personal lives, he’s seen your brother in his underwear, and your father has insulted him several times. You’re basically engaged at this point.”
“You’re ridiculous. We’ve only seen each other for three days.”
“Your father proposed after seven days,” Mom reminds me.
“And look how well that turned out.”
“Don’t be so cynical. He just wasn’t the right person for me. Dax is your person.”
I ignore the butterflies in my stomach when I hear those words.
“And besides,” she continues, “you didn’t just meet three days ago. This is five years in the making, and I am here for it. Your father didn’t buy me placemats until after oral pleasures were exchanged.”
“Mom!”
“Have oral pleasures been exchanged?”
“I’m not even entertaining this line of questioning,” I mutter, smacking my hand over my eyes and wondering why I answered this call.
“I’ll take that as a no,” she continues. “So, he either just wants to do something nice for you, because you deserve it, and he’s a sweet, simple, otter-loving man who likes to do nice things for the woman he’s courting… or he’s doing these things in the hopes that oral pleasures will be exchanged. I’m going with a combination of the two.”
“Please stop saying oral pleasures,” I complain, dropping my hand away from my eyes and back down to the bed.
I think about all that word vomit I spewed to Nanci yesterday. About how it would be nice if someone took care of me for once and how I’m now positive Dax heard most, if not all of it. He just came in here—or slept in here—like a damn knight in shining armor, wrangling my dad, brother, and muskrat guts so I didn’t have to, giving me hours of peace and quiet to concentrate on work, carrying me to bed, staying here all night just so nothing bad happened to me, and then continued to take care of me all morning, letting me sleep in for the first time in months and feeding me food that didn’t come in a takeout container for the first time in weeks.
I spend a few minutes catching my mom up on the changes in Dax from the last time I saw him five years ago and quickly give her a run-down on his dad and his problems with being able to forgive the guy, move on, and be happy.
“It sounds like being around you is good for him. You said so yourself; he’s a different person when he’s around you. More like the old Dax, but less of a jerk. And I must say, you don’t sound as stressed or frazzled as you normally do when we talk on the phone. Letting someone help you once in a while is a good thing for you. I think the two of you need each other more than you care to admit right now.”
“Being around me is never good for people,” I remind her. “Take Brad for instance.”
“Wasn’t his name Brent?”
“Fucking hell.” I sigh. “See? Still can’t remember his name, and I just broke up with him. It’s too soon for me to date anyone again. My deathbed will be too soon to date anyone again.”
“Have you not been listening to me? You just haven’t dated the right person yet. Just continue being supportive and being there for him, and let him help you with some of your burdens, cough-cough, your dad and brother.”
“Have we met? I’m not that person. He’s got shit going on in his life that I don’t even know about. I’d just make it worse.”
“No, you wouldn’t, and yes, you are that person!” she argues. “You do it for your dad and your brother every day.”
“I make sure they don’t kill themselves or anyone around them every day.”
“See? Look at you, making a difference in the world!” she exclaims, suddenly switching the subject. “Is he hot?”
“Yes. Wait, no!” I quickly amend. “Who cares? That has absolutely nothing to do with this conversation.”
“Oh, it has everything to do with this conversation. Why do you think I stayed with your father so long? Because I got a thrill out of walking through the front door every day, never knowing what horror or new burn holes in the carpet would await me? No. I stayed, because he was hot and very good in bed.”
“Eeew, Jesus, Mom,” I complain.
“Don’t tell your stepfather I said that. Anyway, stop worrying about why he’s doing nice things for you, and just enjoy having someone take care of you for once. Maybe give him a little somethin’-somethin’ as a thank you while you’re being all sweet, and emotionally supportive, and completely unlike you. It might make you less grumpy and more open to the idea of falling in love,” she advises.
“Okay, it’s always a pleasure catching up. Give Casey my love,” I tell her, sitting up in bed.
We say our goodbyes, and I promise to call her tomorrow. After I hang up the phone, I still hear the sounds of Dax finishing up in the kitchen, whistling again while he works. I think about my new kitchen table, my fully stocked fridge and pantry, and all that damn delicious food Dax made for me, and I feel it again. The urge to walk out there, slide my arms around his waist, and cuddle up to him, instead of my usual urge to kick him in the balls.
Fuck you, you delicious fucking frittata.
CHAPTER 10
You’re About to Get Lucky, Motherfucker
Dax
“I’m so glad we had this talk. I just really appreciate you and how nice you’ve been.”
Keeping my arms straight out to the sides, where I’ve had them since Ryan threw his arms around my waist to hug me, I bend one elbow and awkwardly give him a few pats on the back.
I felt bad about how short and clipped I was with Ryan on the phone this morning, especially after he lugged that kitchen table and chairs up from the basement and out to his truck by himself then ran to three different grocery stores to get everything on my list to stock Harley’s kitchen. Deciding I should try again to be nice to my employees after Harley’s urging over breakfast, I figured I should start with him.
“Don’t you just love a good hug after an emotional talk?” Ryan asks, making me wish I would have started with someone else this afternoon. Anyone else.
When he finally disengages and steps away from me, I shove my hands in my pockets and rock back and forth on the balls of my feet.
“Okay. This was fun. You should probably get up to the farmhouse for your interview with Harley,” I encourage him, so he stops standing here staring at me with that sappy, appreciative smile on his face.
“I’ll make sure to tell everyone just how nice you’ve been!” Ryan gushes.
“That’s really not necessary for… okay then,” I trail off as Ryan jogs away from me with an overenthusiastic smile and a wave.
“Everyone!” Ryan shouts, which I return with something that probably resembles the grimace emoji, before he disappears through the door of the indoor habitat.
“What the fuck did I just witness?”
My palms start to sweat when I hear a familiar voice behind me. Turning away from the outdoor otter wading pool, I see the guy who spoke standing a few feet away from me on the other side of the wire fence enclosure, his fingers casually hooked through the fence holes. A guy who’s smirking at me instead of looking at me like he wants to kick my ass, which is better than I expected when I sent him a text a little bit ago asking him to meet me here.
“Well, DJ, that’s what I like to call bonding with my employees,” I tell my old friend I haven’t seen in the flesh in five years as I walk over to the chain-link fence that separates us and unlock the door to the enclosure to let him in.
When Harley brought me back here after breakfast, I let her go off and handle the employee interviews on her own, so I could handle the daily cleaning of the wading pool and gather up the nerve to text DJ. I didn’t think he’d even show up, let alone show up within an hour of me sending that text.
“So, bonding with your employees includes a warm embrace, does it?” DJ asks with another smirk, my hands shaking a little less, since he hasn’t thrown a punch at me yet.
“Well, as you know, a certain spunky, beautiful woman who has recently come back into my life told me I need to make nice with my employees and stop making them cry all the time,” I explain. “I might have been too nice by asking him if there was anything he needed to talk about. I meant with work and my missing otters, but now I know Ryan has a problem masturbating, because he thinks his dead grandmother is always watching. So, that was a swell bonding experience.”
“Jesus,” DJ mutters, shaking his head. “Well, look on the bright side. At least he didn’t cry.”
“Oh there were tears,” I shudder.
“I meant from your employee, not from you.”
“You’re hilarious. Let me guess—you’ve heard the 9-1-1 call. I was under duress, you asshole,” I grumble.
“I don’t know what 9-1-1 call you’re talking about. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re a pretty little bitch,” DJ tells me, waving his hand in the general direction of my face. “All that pretty is bound to need a good cry now and then.”
I pull my hand out of my pocket long enough to give him a good-natured punch in the arm, and we both share a laugh. It feels so good to be standing here joking with him like old times. I haven’t seen DJ in five years, because I’ve been a pussy riddled with guilt, but we’ve still talked on the phone and sent texts here and there. Conversations that were completely bullshit and superficial, because I refused to talk about anything important that we needed to talk about. I’ve actually talked to his wife Phina more than him, especially recently. As a stay-at-home mom to a child with autism, I really wanted her knowledge and advice while we made the changes here at the sanctuary. Phina and I have sent a thousand emails back and forth and exchanged a hundred calls and texts, but I always refused to see either one of them in person. When you’re the one responsible for almost getting one of your best friends killed and putting your other best friend through absolute hell because of it, it fucks with your head. I thought if I stayed away, they wouldn’t have to see me, look at my face, and constantly be reminded of the worst night of their lives. It was stupid and ridiculous, but I was never able to see that until now.
“Look, I know you’ve been through some shit,” DJ starts, the humor dropping from his face for a minute. “I know you’ve been dealing with a lot of misplaced guilt for a lot of years, and you needed to deal with it in whatever way you had to, and that’s okay. You weren’t in a place to hear this and really get it five years ago, so I’m saying it again, because you’re finally in that place. Nothing was your fault. Phina is alive, she’s fine, and she’s better than ever. I went back to the fire department. Now, I’m a captain, and people have to do what I say. Life is good. Neither one of us blames you for anything, and we never have. It’s called the past for a reason. Leave it back there, where the fuck it belongs, and move on. Are we good now? Can we be done with this bullshit?”
I just nod at him, no need to open my mouth and cry like a little bitch again at The Backyard.
“Phina made me promise I wouldn’t kick your ass the first time I saw you again for staying away from us for so long, and you’ll be happy to know I always keep my promises to my wife,” DJ informs me. “But Jesus Christ, man, I still might kick your ass for being so goddamn good-looking.”
The emotion clogging my throat moments ago turns into a laugh as DJ looks me up and down again with disgust.
“You could have stopped at the lumberjack beard and hair, but nooo. You had to get some extra fucking muscles and tattoos too, didn’t you? Making all of us average hot guys look like walking dog shit, is what you’re doing,” he mutters, shaking his head at me, which just makes me laugh even harder.
“Are you saying I’m hot?”
“You’re goddamn right I am,” DJ confirms with a nod.
Once the laughter over his annoyance is out of my system, I pull my hand out of my pocket and hold it out to him.
“It’s good to have you back.”
DJ gives my hand one firm shake before dropping it.
“It’s good your stupid ass is finally having me back. Enough of this touchy feely shit. I didn’t actually come here for you,” he tells me.
“Oh really?”
“Hell no. I came here to cuddle me some goddamn otters!” he cheers, throwing one of his fists up in the air.
“Are you gonna squeal the first time you see them?”
“I’m not a little bitch like you are.” He laughs.
As I lead him around the wading pool and toward the indoor habitat where I locked up the otters earlier so I could clean the pool, DJ smacks his hand against my back a few times.
“I’d also like to hear about how you’re finally going to seal the deal with Harley Blake after all this time. You’ve been out of the game a while, and you were the king of all douchebags when you were in the game, so I’m gonna give you some pointers,” he begins.
“Please don’t,” I mutter, pulling open the door to the habitat as he pulls his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans.
“I’m gonna Facetime Phina. She made a list of cute first date ideas she found on Pinterest and—Oh my Jesus fucking Christ! Look at all the goddamn fucking cuteness! I can’t even handle it right now!”
Thankfully, DJ’s Facetime call to Phina for dating advice is put on hold when he almost literally loses his shit all over the place as soon as the otters race toward us.
“What was that you said about not being a little bitch?” I laugh, watching Dax drop to the ground and roll around on the floor, squealing and shrieking as Beatrix licks and nips at his ears, Harry chews on his hair, and the rest of them climb all over him.
“Fuck you!” DJ shouts in between his screeching, giggling, and cuddling. “I have never been surrounded by so much cuteness in all my life! Is this what heaven is like? Oh aren’t you just the sweetest little shmoopie-woopie I’ve ever seen? Yes, you are!”
Squatting down next to the chaos happening in front of me, I laugh at my friend and the way he’s carrying on with my otters, and I let go of every last piece of guilt that’s been weighing me down for five years.
“Fine. I’ll take your dating advice,” I finally relent as DJ looks up at me while he cradles Harry in his arms and rocks him from side to side like a baby.
“Forget it.” DJ scoffs. “You don’t need any dating advice. You literally just have to stick an otter in her face.”
“Pretty sure it’s not that easy. You’ve met Harley. She’s a little on the difficult side, and she keeps turning me down for a date.”
“Listen, dude, I’m man enough to admit that even I kind of want to sleep with you right now. You’re a sexy beast who earns money snuggling water sausages on a daily basis. You’re living, breathing porn right in front of us.”
“I actually don’t earn any money. All the money goes toward—”
“Blah, blah, you’re a fucking do-gooder now instead of a selfish asshole, you donated your entire trust fund to a wildlife foundation to piss off your dad, and then he just turned around and spent the exact same amount to buy you a zoo, and you’re like really pretty, and you cuddle fucking otters every day,” DJ complains all in one breath,
cuddling an otter up to his face and peppering kisses all over Harry’s head as we both stand up. “You own six—soon to be eight again when the lovely Miss Blake finds the other two—built-in wingmen. And you don’t even have to pick up their bar tab or apologize for weeks that they had to sleep with the ugly friend. I’m so jealous I want to kick you in the balls.”
“You’re married,” I remind him.
“Right. But imagine how much faster Phina would have given in to me, if I’d had an adorable water sausage to shove in her face,” DJ says, holding Harry up in front of him to make ridiculous baby noises at my little guy. “I’m telling you, man. Every time you are anywhere near Harley, take an otter with you. She’ll take her pants off in five minutes. Shit, I’ve been here less than three minutes and I’ve already unbuttoned my jeans. You’re about to get lucky, motherfucker.”
I shake my head at him, thinking about earlier in the day with a big cheesy grin on my face.
“She did let me buy her groceries and make her breakfast this morning, and she didn’t kick me in the balls. I’d call that progress.”
“So, you did sleep with her then.”
“No. I said I bought her groceries and made her breakfast. Stop baby-talking the otters long enough to listen, dickhole.”
Dax stops squealing over the otters to look at me with wide, shocked eyes.
“You cooked her breakfast?”
I nod.
“And you didn’t sleep with her?”
I shake my head, letting out a sigh as I bend down to take a rubber hamburger that Jennifer Otterston brings me, standing back up to toss it to the other side of the room for her to scramble away and fetch.
“Fuuuck. You really have changed,” Dax says in awe.
“It’s not that I don’t want to sleep with her. I get a goddamn hard-on every time she walks in the room,” I complain. “She wouldn’t give me the time of day five years ago, because that’s all I was to her. A complete douchebag who only wanted one thing out of a woman. I’m not that guy anymore, and I want to prove that to her. Taking care of her keeps my mind off my fucking missing babies and if they’re hungry, or hurt, or worse. And it takes some stress off Harley’s shoulders. And it makes her happy, even if she’d rather swallow glass than admit it. I just really fucking like making her happy, man.”