Rock Chick Regret
Page 146

 Kristen Ashley

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
“Had my eye on one of those for a long time, mamita,” he muttered, still referring to the Yukon.
“I know,” I replied softly. Then, for some reason, into his throat, uber-quietly, I whispered, “I love you, babe.”
His body went still.
Then he rolled so I was on the bottom, he was on top.
His head came up and I saw his face was warm, his eyes, though, were hot.
He touched his mouth to mine and muttered, “Y te amo también, mi cielo.”
And, from Blanca’s lessons, I knew this meant, And I love you too, my sky.
My belly fluttered and I smiled at him.
He smiled back.
His mouth was coming toward mine when the doorbell rang again.
Instead of kissing me, his forehead came to rest on mine and he mumbled, “Jesus.”
We did the getting up and putting on clothes thing again and walked downstairs, side-by-side, his arm around my shoulders, mine around his waist.
He opened the door.
Buddy and Ralphie were standing there. Ralphie was holding a squirming, panting, blond-faced, black-bodied German Shepherd puppy with a big, red and green striped ribbon around its neck.
“Oh my God!” I squealed, the puppy jumped at my squeal, its eyes coming to me, it leaped out of Ralphie’s arms into mine. “Buddy, you wonderful man, you got Ralphie a puppy!”
I held the puppy to my chest, walking into the living room, nuzzling her soft face and puppy floppy ears with my nose, smelling the sweet puppy scent as she licked me all over. I giggled and gave her soft puppy body cuddles.
I looked at Buddy. “You’re the greatest. I want one just like her.”
“Um… sweets?” Ralphie called and I looked at him.
I saw all three men standing there. Buddy and Ralphie were smiling huge. Hector had his arms crossed on his chest and his mouth was doing that fighting-a-grin thing.
“What?” I asked.
“Buddy didn’t give me that dog,” Ralphie answered.
My eyebrows drew together. “Did you buy it for yourself?”
Buddy chuckled. Hector lost the fight with his grin and smiled, full and glamorous.
“What’s funny?” I asked.
Buddy answered, “She’s for you, sweetheart.”
I blinked.
“From Double H,” Ralphie added.
My eyes flew to Hector.
“It’s selfish,” he said. “I want to know you’re guarded when I’m not home.”
I felt the tears clog my throat.
Then I shouted, “I am not going to cry!” right before I burst into tears.
In a flash, the puppy and I were in Hector’s arms.
He held me, I cried, the puppy squirmed and licked and Ralphie produced a camera and took a photo of the three of us.
It came out beautiful. Hector’s arm around my shoulders, his fingers in the ruff of the dog’s neck, his head bent to us, my forehead tucked in his throat, the puppy looking like she was smiling at both of us (but, really, she was panting).
I named the dog Gretel (she was German).
I put the picture on the mantel in the dining room.