Take Me To The Beach
Page 6
“You must be Monroe. I’m Jerry.”
I take his offered hand for a quick shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Jerry. What can I do for you? Are you looking to adopt a dog, because I’ve got several ready for a forever home?”
The pudgy man shakes his head. “Oh, no, quite the opposite.” He takes a step back and turns for his car. “I’m here to drop one off.” Jerry opens his back door and pulls out a large bird cage with a blanket draped over the top. “My father passed away a few weeks ago and left me his bird.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about your father.”
“I appreciate that. It was expected so we were as prepared as we could be.”
I smile and nod, unsure of how to respond. “Are you here because you need to learn more about caring for your bird? I’ve got some great reference books you could borrow.”
“No, you don’t understand. I don’t want the bird.”
My eyes widen. “You don’t?”
“My father was crazy and his bird is even crazier. Quite frankly, I don’t have the time or patience to deal with the darn thing. I was told you take animals.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Perfect.” Jerry sets the cage at my feet and grabs a giant bag out of the back of his car. “Here’s all of his stuff—food, toys, and I tossed in a picture of my dad.”
“Why would I need a picture of your dad?”
“I don’t know, I just thought he might like looking at it from time to time.”
“Oh, okay, so—”
“So that’s it,” he interrupts. “That’s everything.”
Before I have a chance to respond, Jerry hops in his car and peels out tossing up a cloud of dust.
Tess fans her hand in front of her face. “Does this happen often?”
“No. Most people drop their pet off after hours in a box on the front step.”
She looks at the cage hidden under a white blanket. “Well, let’s find out what’s in there.”
I pick up the cage and carry it into Animal Haven.
Tess lifts the hem of the blanket over the top of the cage, and we come face to face with the most gorgeous bird I have ever seen.
“It’s a cockatoo,” I breathe, leaning down to get a better look.
The bird is all white with a black beak, and obviously doesn’t like my close proximity because he squawks, erects the lemon colored crest on top of his head, and fluffs his feathers.
“I don’t think he likes us,” Tess says.
“He’s just scared.”
“What do we do with him? I’ve never cared for a bird.”
“I’m not entirely sure. I’ll call the vet to see if he can stop by and check the bird out. Maybe he can give us some tips.”
“It sounds like you’ve got a solid plan. Is there anything you need me to do for you, or should I get back to what I was doing?”
“I’m good.”
Tess heads out back to finish up whatever she was doing. I grab the bag Jerry dropped off and pull out a container of food, two toys, and a picture of an old man who looks nothing like Jerry.
“Well, I don’t know your name, but I know what your owner looked like,” I mumble, staring into the now empty bag.
“Dave,” he says.
The loud, screeching voice startles me. With a hand to my chest, I jump back and look at the bird. “You can talk?”
“Dave,” he repeats.
“Is that your name?”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” His words are mumbled because, well, he’s a bird, but I can still make out what he’s saying.
“What else do you know? How old are you Dave?”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
“Yes, I know that. How old are you?” I ask again.
“Shut up!” he yells.
“Excuse me?” Hands on my hips, I glare at Dave. He tilts his head to the side, starts laughing, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Shut up, Dave,” he yells, bouncing on his perch in the cage. “Go to sleep, Dave.”
“You want to take a nap? Now we’re getting somewhere.” I lower the blanket over the cage. “There.”
“It’s dark in here.”
I peek under the blanket. “It’s supposed to be dark, you’re taking a nap.”
“Shut up!”
I drop the blanket. There are a lot of things I’m willing to do in this job, but arguing with a cheeky cockatoo is not one of them.
“It’s dark in here.”
This is going to get annoying fast. “Goodnight, Dave.”
“Goodnight, Dave,” he says.
Dave sighs and doesn’t make another sound.
“Just what I need,” I mumble, walking out of the room.
I call the vet and leave a message to see if he can stop by to give Dave a checkup. Unfortunately, I’ll have to keep Dave separated from the other animals until I get a clean bill of health from the vet.
Ruby bumps into my leg on her way to her water bowl and I reach down to pet her head. “You should probably stick with me today, girl. I’m not sure you’re ready for the likes of Dave.”
The next few hours fly by as I finish up the chores that Jerry interrupted. When I return to the office to check on Dave, I find him sitting on Tess’s shoulder. She’s thumbing through a book and he is looking over her shoulder as if he’s interested in what she’s reading.
“I take it you and Dave have become friends.”
Tess and Dave look up and then she frowns at the bird. “You told me your name was Simon.”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” he says, bobbing his head.
“I’m starting to think the bird doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” I say.
“I’m not so sure about that. I’ve been doing some research and cockatoos are incredibly smart,” Tess says, raising a reference book she likely got from the book shelf in the office.
I pull out a chair and sit down. “What else did you learn?”
“Well, they like Kale, broccoli, carrots, sweet potato, and squash.”
“Ew,” Dave—or Simon—squawks.
Tess laughs and continues. “They also eat fruit in moderation, and should always avoid chocolate, avocado, caffeine, dried beans, pretzels, and alcohol.”
“Grab me a beer!”
“Sorry, Dave, I only have Tequila,” I reply.
“Simon says, shut up!”
My mouth drops open and Tess chuckles. “He’s funny, isn’t he?” she asks, clearly smitten with the bird.
“Sure, if you like being lied to and told to shut up.”
Tess reaches up and pets the bird. He pecks at her hand with is beak and she yanks it back. “I think he’s cute. If you don’t have anyone else in mind, I’d love to foster him.”
“What? Really? You don’t know anything about birds.”
“I can learn.”
“Are you sure you want to?”
“Why not? I’ve got nothing else going for me. Simon can keep me company.”
I rest my hand on hers. “You’ve got lots going for you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes or no, Mo. Can I foster Simon?”
“Simon says, yes,” the bird yells.
Tess smiles. “See, Simon says. You have to do what Simon says.”
“Fine, but we have to get him checked out by the vet first.”
“Speaking of the vet, he called why you were out back. He can’t stop by, his schedule is too packed, but he’d be happy to squeeze us in if we can bring the bird to him.”
“Oh, okay.” I look around, unsure of when I’ll have time to take him.
“I’ll take him,” Tess offers. “And then if everything turns out okay, I’ll just bring him home with me. We’ll even stop by the pet store on the way and grab a few more things.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tess this excited, and who am I tell her no? “Fine. If you’re sure.”
“Did you hear
that, Simon?” she asks. “You get to come home with me.”
“Shut up!”
Monroe
“Two days in a row? I don’t remember you being such an early bird.”
I came in to work early this morning to get a head start so I could leave a little sooner and have some downtime before my shift at Dirty Dicks tonight. Like every other day, I went around back to start with the dogs, and imagine my surprise when I saw they’d already been watered and fed for the morning.
There’s a fenced-in three-acre patch of land behind Animal Haven that gives the dogs a place to run and burn off some energy. Right now it’s occupied by six mutts and one very sexy cowboy.
Oh boy.
Rhett is leaning against the fence, his foot propped up on a rung, and when a lazy smile spreads across his face, I feel a rush of heat settle between my thighs.
“Couldn’t sleep worth shit again last night.”
“Dreaming of me, huh?” I tease.
I don’t mean to flirt—it’s not something I’m generally good at—but when I’m around him, I can’t help it. Things just come out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop them.
“Well, there’s that.” Rhett smirks, igniting a fire in my belly, and I have to look away before I combust.
Rascal, a Chihuahua mix I’ve been trying to home for the last year runs by, and I scoop him up—anything other than Rhett’s blinding smile to focus on.
“But it’s also my shoulder,” he says, rubbing at the offending body part.
“The doctor didn’t give you any pain pills?”
“He did, but I don’t want to take them.”
“Why not? There’s nothing wrong with taking them if you need them.”
“I know.” He pushes away from the fence and walks toward me. Rascal lets out a growl but makes no attempt to nip at Rhett when he runs a hand along his back. “Pain pills fuck me up, and if I take them, I can’t drive. If I can’t drive, I won’t be able to come help you.”
“Rhett,” I admonish. “I don’t want you to be in pain just so you can come out here and help me. I’ll manage on my own; I always do. You should go home and try to get some rest.”
“I know you can manage on your own, but I wanted to see you.”
Oh shit, there goes my stomach again.
“I remembered where your dad kept the spare key so I figured I’d help out and get you an early start. I also wanted to see my dogs. Where are they?” he asks, looking over my shoulder.
“They’re running loose in the horse pasture. I was going to leave them there while I fed and watered the dogs, but I guess that’s already done. Thank you, by the way. That saves a lot of time.”
“You’re welcome, and I’m yours for the day. Put me to work.”
I give him a look. “I’m not going to put you to work when you just told me you’re in pain.”
“I didn’t say I was in pain right now; I said I was in pain last night. My physical therapist worked my shoulder good yesterday. It was tight when I got up, but I did some of the stretches she showed me, and that took care of most of the ache. The anti-inflammatories help too.”
“If you’re sure. But any inkling of pain and you have to promise you’ll stop.”
“Cross my heart.”
“Follow me.”
Rhett tails me inside and down the main aisle past the dog kennels.
“We’ll clean out the cages of the dogs that are outside, and once we’re done, we’ll bring them back in, let the others out, and clean those cages.”
I unlock the storage room door and pull out the cleaning supplies and a large hose that’s already connected to a faucet.
“I’ll have you spray the floors down, and I’ll come behind you and scrub. Then we’ll rinse.”
“I can scrub,” he says, reaching for the brush, but I pull it back.
“No, sir.” I shake my head. “You will not injure yourself further on my watch. Coop wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.”
Rhett’s jaw clenches at the mention of Coop’s name, and I scoff. “Oh, good grief, Rhett. I wouldn’t sleep with your brother, and I’m not attracted to him in any way. Never have been; never will be.”
“You used to be attracted to me, and we’re identical twins.”
Seriously? “That doesn’t mean shit, Rhett. You two are polar opposites. You may look alike, but that’s where the similarities end.”
He smirks. “So, you are attracted to me?”
I shove his good arm. “Get to work.”
Laughing, he takes the hose, and we spend the next hour working together to clean the cages. Once we get them clean, we round up the dogs and bring them in. Most of them are tuckered out from being outside and are anxious to curl up and take a nap. Then Rhett gathers the rest of the dogs and puts them in the fenced yard.
We wash and clean the remaining dog cages, then move on to the cats. We clean their litter boxes, give them fresh food and water and lots of love and attention, and when we’re done, I go back into the storage room and pull out a can of tuna.
I peel open the container, and I can’t help myself. I shove it toward Rhett. He hates tuna.
He makes a gagging sound and pushes me away. “Paybacks are hell,” he warns.
“Ah, come on, tuna is good for you.”
“Come near me with that stuff again and you’ll be wearing it.”
“Fine. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” I walk toward the back of the cat kennels and unlatch the door to a walk-in cage. Rhett follows behind but stays outside the enclosure. “Will you shut the door? I don’t want Pickles to make a run for it like he tried to do yesterday.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Pickles?”
“What?” I ask. “He loves his name.”
“You’re still addicted, aren’t you?”
I’ve always had a deep affinity for dill pickles. Rhett used to make fun of me, because not only do I eat the pickles, I drink the juice. On more than one occasion back in the day, he brought me a jar of pickles rather than a bouquet of flowers.
“Don’t judge me.”
He holds up his hand and laughs.
Pickles is curled up in a ball in the back corner of the enclosure, and I take my normal seat next to him.
“Someone dropped him off here in a box. I think he was an inside cat because he’s declawed and neutered. Poor little guy was scared to death.”
“I’m not sure I’d call him little.” Rhett keeps a hand on the cage, ensuring the door stays shut.
“Can you believe that, Pickles?” I ask, hoisting the twenty-pound cat onto my lap. “He thinks you’re fat.”
I have a bad habit of talking to the animals like they’re people. Guess that’s what happens when you spend your days with four-legged friends, but Rhett doesn’t laugh or make fun of me.
Pickles looks up with sad eyes, but he makes no move to jump off my lap. Instead, he inches his way toward the can of tuna and takes a nibble.
“He doesn’t eat much. I’ve had him checked by the vet, and he seems to be in good health. My guess is his owner fed him a lot of wet cat food or tuna because he won’t touch the dry food.”
“Or he’s playing you.”
I lift a brow. “You think a cat is playing me?”
“Sure. Cats are smart. He knows that if he refuses to eat the other food you bring him, you’ll eventually offer his favorite. Tuna.”
I look down at the wet cat food still sitting in his bowl from last night and frown. Damnit, maybe Rhett is right. I sit patiently while Pickles eats his fill, and then I give him one last pet and put him on the cat bed. “You aren’t playing me, are you?” I whisper.
“Meow.” He pushes his cold nose against my arm, arches his back, and crawls off the bed. He curls up in the corner where I know I’ll find him tomorrow.
I step out of the enclosure. “You hungry?”
Rhett closes the door behind me. “Starved. Want to run in town and grab a bite?”
A juicy burger and an
order of fries sounds fantastic, but it’ll put me out ten bucks, and I’m not willing to make that sacrifice. “Nah. Don’t have time. I packed my lunch.”
I grab my food from my truck and meet Rhett inside. He’s sitting across from my desk, his long legs stretched out in front of him with ruby’s head resting on his lap. He tugs his sling off, and my step falters when he reaches for the back of his shirt with his good arm and pulls it over his head.
It should be illegal for a man to do that move within a ten-foot radius of a woman.
Rolling my tongue up, I shove it back into my mouth and walk on in. “If I’d known you were providing the afternoon entertainment, I would’ve brought my dollar bills.”
“Very funny.” He slaps at my ass when I walk by, and I squeal, jumping forward. “It’s muggy as hell out today,” he adds, pushing his fingers into the fur on Ruby’s head. The affection he has for her is so simple and familiar that it makes my heart ache for things to be the way they once were. “What did you bring for lunch?”
“Turkey sandwich, chips, granola bar, and an apple. Want some?”
He shrugs and stands up. Ruby isn’t too happy about finding another spot to rest her head—because no other spot compares to Rhett’s chiseled thigh—but she settles on her blanket in the corner of the room. Rhett goes through a series of stretches, each one pushing his shoulder further. I try to focus on my lunch, but it’s damn hard with all those muscles flexing and winking at me. He’s definitely beefed up over the years. And is that a V leading to his—
“Mo?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re staring.” He blinks. I search his eyes for frustration or amusement, but all I see is a desperate hunger.
“I can’t help it,” I whisper, and then I jam my apple in my mouth and take a bite before I do something stupid like beg him to bend me over this desk and have his wicked way with me.
He smiles, slow and seductive. “Maybe we should make it fair. I wouldn’t be opposed to you stripping down so I can get in some ogling time of my own.”
I toss my apple at his head. He catches it midair with his good hand and takes a bite.
“What did your physical therapist say? How long are they expecting for your recovery?” I ask.