by Jewel E. Ann
“Morning.” Gus cleared the frog from his throat, keeping his gaze on the long strokes he made along Romeo’s back.
He’d hoped it wouldn’t be too awkward, but his inability to make eye contact screamed awkward.
“Good morning.” Parker tugged the bill of her cap down low while she squinted. A middle finger gesture to the sun. “Where’d you get the brush?”
“Sabrina’s bathroom drawer.” His lips quirked into a grin, but he still didn’t look at her.
“What are you going to do with it when you’re done?” Parker’s hand glided along the smooth chestnut fur he’d just brushed.
“Tap it on the bottom of my boot a few times and put it back in her drawer.” He grinned.
“Wow, I have to confess. When I first met your wife, I was a bit envious of her.”
That unexpected comment earned her a quick look.
“Not…” she shook her head “…like I was envious because of you. Which I know might be hard to believe after the…” she bit her lower lip and wrinkled her nose “…kiss last night. It was because she’s so put together and successful. But now I’m not envious of her because when she returns she’s going to brush her hair with that brush and…” her words tumbled down a hill, gaining speed “…that’s pretty shitty of you, but I’ve done worse things so I really can’t judge you, but … Gah! Please say something! I kissed you last night and it was stupid and wrong and a huge, drunken mistake on my part. I’m not that girl. I don’t hit on married men. You have to—”
“You’re forgiven. It’s forgotten.” He shrugged. Then true to his word, he banged the brush on the bottom of his boot.
“I’ll tell Sabrina as soon as she gets home and apologize—”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not necessary.”
“But—”
Gus turned and walked to the house. “You were drunk. It was my birthday.”
“Your birthday?” She chased after him. “That’s not an excuse.”
“Fine.” After washing his hands in the mudroom sink, he tugged the ties loose on his boots, toed them off, and headed toward the stairs with the dirty brush in hand. “You were drunk. I was the victim. Because you’re my wife’s employee and it was your first day, I won’t file a sexual harassment suit this time.”
“I’m sorry!”
He stopped midway up the stairs and turned. Parker’s chest heaved and her face flushed.
“I already said you’re forgiven.”
She curled her hair behind her ears and adjusted her baseball cap. “I know, but you never let me apologize, so I don’t want you to think that I’m not sorry. I am. And I really need to tell Sabrina to clear my conscience. Even if she fires me.”
“A real Girl Scout, aren’t you, Parker?”
“No. I just don’t approve of cheating.”
“Cheating?” He laughed again. “That means you must have a boyfriend?”
“What? No.”
“Then there was no cheating. I didn’t kiss you.”
“But you didn’t stop me.” Her voice escalated.
“You didn’t give me any warning. I thought you were attempting to hug me for rescuing you from the men’s room.” After a few moments of silence—a stare-off—he shook his head and continued up the stairs. “Whatever. Tell her. Don’t tell her. I don’t care.”
“Is she going to fire me?”
“She should.” His voice echoed from the far end of the hall.
*
Parker’s phone chimed with creepy timing. A message from Brock with her list for the day. She considered responding with “I kissed Gus. Sorry. I’ll find another job,” but it really didn’t feel right to share that information with Brock or by any other means than face to face. It would be an agonizing four days carrying the guilt around. A fair punishment.
Dwelling on her fate accomplished nothing. Instead, she focused on another day of important stuff that only a highly-skilled assistant such as herself could do.
“What are you doing?”
She startled at the sound of Gus’s voice. “Rating bananas.”
He grabbed a cola from the fridge. “What does that mean? And why are you doing it?”
“I’m determining which ones you might still eat and which ones should be used for banana bread. And I’m doing it because it’s on the list for today.” She glanced at him over her shoulder.
“Sabrina doesn’t bake.” He frowned. “Well, she used to but she hasn’t in years.” His gaze met hers. “So why is she having you save ripe bananas?”
Parker’s attention returned to the nine bananas under scrutiny. “The next thing on my list is making banana bread. A loaf for you and one that I’m supposed to deliver to your parents.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not kidding.”
“This is ridiculous.”
She held up three of the bananas that still had a bit of green at the tips. “Will you eat these?”
Over the short amount of time she’d known Gus, he’d been easy going about everything. Three bananas changed that.
“Rags,” he called with an unfamiliar edge to his voice.
Their sheared friend raced into the kitchen through the doggy door in the mudroom, bringing with him the wonderful scent of an overheated dog on a humid day. Gus snatched the bananas like he was pissed off with her, or the bananas, or something. He peeled one and fed it to Rags. Then the second. Followed by the third.
Unblinking eyes dared Parker to say anything.
Her internal thoughts escaped as a whisper. “That’s a … lot of bananas for a dog.”
Gus closed his eyes, a hint of regret pulling at his brow when he exhaled. “I have to get to work.” He opened his eyes revealing the Gus she’d met a week earlier. “What do you need from me?”
“Need from you?”
“Yesterday you had a million questions for me.”
She laughed a little. “And you were basically no help at all. If I have questions, I’ll text Brock.”
“You do that.” Gus adjusted his cap and turned.
“Gus?”
He paused at the door. “Yeah?”
Her lips rubbed together as she second-guessed asking the question that wouldn’t leave her head.
“Parker?”
“Uh … it’s just … Why did you say Sabrina should fire me when I asked you if she would?”
He focused on the floor between them for a few seconds then lifted his gaze to hers. “If she loved me now like she loved me then, she’d fire your ass for touching something that’s hers.”
There were no words to say back to him. Gus spoke the truth. The only question left unanswered: How much did Sabrina love her husband?
*
Brock had the glamorous assisting job that probably included dining at ritzy restaurants, which required snazzy ties and suit jackets. Glamorous didn’t describe Parker’s new job, but she still liked it. While the lists were random and unpredictable, she never felt bored.
By the end of the day, she’d baked banana bread, delivered a loaf to Gus’s parents, stayed there and chatted with them for over an hour—super nice people—reserved a tent, booked a caterer and a local band for the Westmans’ Fourth of July party, and researched several new nail salons because of a recent plantar wart incident at Sabrina’s regular salon.
Gus shook his head as she walked up their blacktop drive with Rags a little after six that evening. Squirrels scampered across the grass looking for refuge in nearby trees while gnats buzzed around her head. For a brief moment she thought of Caleb and the life she’d imagined. In that brief moment, Gus became Caleb in the porch chair, legs spread wide, his hand clutched around a bottle of beer resting on his knee. Parker played his wife and that smile on his face conveyed complete adoration.
She released the tension in her hand, and Rags took off running, leash dragging behind him to the porch, to Gus—to Caleb. They greeted each other like all good dogs and their masters did.
�
�Parker.” Gus’s voice, not Caleb’s, filled the thick evening air.
She blinked, refocusing on the reality in front of her. Gus wasn’t her husband. Rags wasn’t her dog. It wasn’t her life. Twenty-six-year-old Parker Cruse didn’t have a life.
“Did you hear me say he doesn’t have to be walked?” He gave Rags a good scratching behind the ears.
“Yes.” Parker plopped down into the glider next to Gus. “But he’s a dog and they like new smells and different scenery. It’s good for their senses and it wears them out mentally, not just physically.”
“And Sabrina’s paying you to walk him.”
She grinned, staring at her childhood home across the street and over one lot. “And that. But I like him too.”
Rags collapsed at her feet.
“He doesn’t lie at my feet. He knows he’s Sabrina’s dog. Her brother gave him to her as a puppy—a birthday gift when she turned thirty because they never had pets growing up.”
“But he likes you.”
Gus took a pull of his beer then grinned. “Yes. I let him sleep with me when she’s gone … which is a lot. Pisses her off when she comes home to fur all over her side of the bed.”
“I know. She’s already instructed me to wash the sheets twice the morning she flies home.”
Gus chuckled. “Of course she did.” He held out his beer to Parker.
She stared at it.
“We’ve already exchanged germs.”
“Shut up.” She snatched the bottle and took a long gulp, followed by another, and another.
“Christ, woman! I said we’ve exchanged germs.” He grabbed the empty bottle and shook it back and forth. “But that last swallow was all backwash. One hundred percent bodily fluids.”
Parker giggled and suppressed a burp. “You backwash?” She shrugged. “I didn’t notice. Most bodily fluids I’ve swallowed don’t taste like beer.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh shit.” Her words muffled behind it.
Gus perked an eyebrow.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” She blushed to the tips of her ears, internally cursing her mom for passing along the oversharing gene.
“Do I want to know what ‘most bodily fluids I’ve swallowed,’ means?”
Folding at the waist, she covered her face with her hands and buried her embarrassment in her lap. “You must think I’m a tramp. I mean … the fake orgasm, the kiss, and now this. Gah! How embarrassing.” Shooting up from the chair, she held up her hand in a wave gesture but kept her body moving in the direction of home. “Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Westman. I’m going home to cut my tongue out.”
Chapter Eight
As predicted, severe weather rolled in that night knocking out power and claiming the lives of a few trees. Gus awoke a little after midnight to an empty spot beside him and incessant barking outside.
“Rags …” Gus groaned knowing the dog outside arguing with Mother Nature couldn’t hear him. “Stupid dog.” He pulled on a pair of shorts and hurried downstairs, shoving his bare feet into his work boots at the last second before throwing open the back door. “Rags!”
The rain stopped but the wind continued to rustle the trees. The heavy branches of the old oak tree on Parker’s side of the fence whined with each gust like an elderly man getting out of bed. Someone’s crazy dog jumped against the gate and barked—over and over.
“Rags!”
“Rags!”
Gus stopped at the bottom of the deck stairs and listened.
Did someone else yell “Rags” too or was it an echo?
Something moved on the other side of the fence. Rags stopped barking. Squinting his eyes, Gus trudged through the marshy yard. “Rags?” He drew out his name with a softer voice, trying to listen at the same time.
Nothing.
The dog vanished, leaving Gus alone in the footprint of the storm. A lone light, half a football field away, disappeared as well, like a wish had been made and it was time to cut the cake. He didn’t need another reason for Sabrina to be angry with him, so he unlatched the gate and sloshed that fifty yards to Parker’s house.
After knocking and waiting several minutes, he took a chance on the doorbell. The porch light above him illuminated a second before the door eased open. A single, wide eye appeared and a couple feet lower a wet, black nose wedged in the crack.
“Gus?”
“Parker.”
She opened the door the rest of the way and scratched her head. A soaked, oversized T-shirt clung to her body.
“Rags.” Gus dropped his gaze to the naughty dog, anything to keep from staring at the peaks and valleys of the younger woman who was not his wife.
“He doesn’t seem to like storms.”
Gus nodded. “It would seem. Yet every time it storms, he runs outside and barks like he can chase it away.”
Parker peeled the blue shirt away from her skin. Gus made a quick inspection to make sure the peaks were hidden before he made eye contact.
She crossed her legs and kept the wet shirt pinched between her fingers, holding it away from her body. “I thought maybe you didn’t hear him. When I opened the gate, he practically knocked me over in a mad dash to my door.”
Her eyes moved along his body, and at that moment he remembered the inappropriateness of his own attire for visiting his half-dressed neighbor in the middle of the night.
“I’d invite you in, but …” Parker stared at his wet boots covered in clumps of mud and grass.
“No. Sorry, I’m a muddy mess, I just—”
“So was Rags.” She gestured to her T-shirt, tugging the damp cotton. “I had to carry him up to the tub to wash his paws and in the process, I got a little wet.”
August would not have been a man had he not imagined her peeling off that shirt, revealing her curvy body and taut nipples. He’d already seen their outline; it didn’t take much to imagine them completely bared to him. And August would not have been married had he been the man who did anything more than imagine.
He crossed his hands over his crotch as his neglected cock made an attempt to set up camp right there on Parker’s front porch. “Thank you for doing that. I’m so sorry he woke you. If it ever happens again, just call me.” Gus jerked his head. “Rags, let’s go.”
The dog took two steps backward and heeled.
“Rags.” Gus frowned.
Like flipping Gus the bird, Rags eased to all fours and ran up the stairs.
“Rags!”
Parker bit her lips together for a few seconds then snorted a laugh.
“You think this is funny?”
She covered her mouth with her hand as she shook her head, eyes wide and unblinking.
“Then why are you laughing?” Gus crossed his arms.
Her eyes homed in on his arms and then a bit lower, widening even more.
“Just …” He turned sideways and shifted his weight to obscure her view of his erection. His mind knew he was married, happily or not, but he possessed an indiscernible dick when it came to a half-naked woman in a T-shirt. “Go get him, please.”
It didn’t matter how many attempts she made to keep her shirt from clinging to her body, he’d seen it and neither his analytical brain or rogue dick could un-see it. The more she messed with it, the harder he got.
“How am I supposed to make him go with you?”
“Parker! Jesus, woman! Just go get the damn dog so I can get to bed.”
And lose the fucking erection.
“Okay.” She held her hands up and backed up slowly. “I’m going.”
On a sigh, he dropped his head with a slight shake. “I’m sorry, I—”
Thunder echoed in the distance.
“It’s fine. I get it.”
“I don’t think you do.”
Parker started up the stairs. “No, no, I think I do.” Something in the tone of her voice confirmed that she did get it.
Gus grumbled and adjusted himself. Before he could fully ease the tension with thoughts of dirty baby diapers or col
onoscopies, Parker returned in navy sweatpants and a dry T-shirt—no Rags.
“Sorry.” Her nose wrinkled. “He won’t come, and I’m too exhausted to wrestle him down the stairs. So unless you’re going to take off your muddy boots and go get him yourself, I suggest we just let him stay here for the night.”
“Fine.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks and … I’m sorry—”
“Gus, stop. It’s no big deal. Guys can’t control that.” She shrugged.
He flinched. “What? No. I meant Rags, not …” Gus rested his hands on his hips and dropped his head again. “Dammit! This shouldn’t be so hard.”
Parker cleared her throat. “It’s still, um … hard?”
“Not my…” he turned his back to her “ …what I mean is I wasn’t talking about me. This conversation shouldn’t be so difficult. That’s the word I meant—difficult.” Gus moved one muddy boot in front of the other and didn’t look back. “Good night, Parker.”
“Good night, Gus.”
*
Aside from some tree limbs and a few pieces of siding, the storm did far less damage than Gus’s encounter with Parker. His marriage had survived its first five years without a fight that lasted longer than a few hours, and those minor fights ended in long nights of incredible sex. He loved his wife. Temptation may have lurked in the distance, but it always stayed in his blind spot.
Until Sabrina found success in a career that seemed to take precedence over their marriage.
Until sex became a chore she did before leaving town, like checking off a task on her list.
Until “don’t forget to walk the dog” replaced “I love you.”
Until she made more money than he did.
Until a young, blue-eyed woman with dark hair and an infinity of perfect curves walked half-naked into his life.
Temptation no longer resided in his blind spot. She lived a hundred yards away.
“Rags! Slow down! I need to wipe your muddy paw—aw fuck …” Parker’s voice faded into defeat as Rags bolted through the doggie door along with chunks of mud and grass stuck to his paws.