I drew a line in the sand last night with her. Zero thought went into it, it was pure reaction. I didn’t like seeing her with another man. If she needs to be fucked, I’ll do it. If she wants to practice flirting, she can practice with me. She wasn’t getting birthday sex from anyone else.
And what was that shit about birthdays don’t matter? I did a little research early on and found out her birthdate, couldn’t believe it was the same day as the date on their wedding invite. I couldn’t give her the present yesterday because I was gone most of the day with pregame prep. Who the hell made her think her birthday doesn’t matter?
I had to run a couple errands this morning to get her gift ready, and when I get back, she’s sitting in the living room with one of her romance books. She’s in her baggy sweatshirt and leggings, messy bun, and no makeup. It reminds me of the day I ran into her at the coffee shop.
“Hey, cover your eyes.”
She narrows her eyes at me like I’m about to play a cruel prank on her. “Why?”
“Because I want to give you your birthday present.”
The corner of her mouth curves up on one side. “You really got me something?”
“I really got you something. Now cover your eyes, or I’ll blindfold you again.”
“Sounds like a win-win to me,” she says, covering her face with her hands.
“Another time. Okay, stay there. No peeking, promise?”
“Yeah, yeah, promise. Hurry up, I’m in a good spot in my book.”
Creeping backward toward the mud room, I keep an eye on her to make sure she stays true to her word. As carefully as I can, I pick up the clumsy, heavy-ass surprise—I didn’t realize it was so big until I showed up to transport it. Thankfully, it’s size is mostly due to its thick fur. This thing is gonna shed all over my house.
“Are your eyes still closed?”
“Yeh-es,” she singsongs, sounding almost bored. “But if you tell me to reach into a box, I don’t want it.”
All it took was her voice for the dog to leap out of my arms and bolt toward her. She opens her eyes right before she’s clobbered by the thing. She squeals, and so does the damn dog. Well, I don’t know if the noise the dog is making is so much a squeal as it is a happy scream. Is that normal?
“Chicken Salad!”
What a ridiculous name for a pet. I roll my eyes and try to wipe all the dog hair from my shirt. I told that hairy motherfucker to be cool, but apparently, she was equally excited to see Jordan.
With her arms wrapped around the dog, her eyes turn glossy. “Cam! You got my dog!”
“Thought you could use some company while I’m gone or traveling or whatever.” And for my own comfort. I like knowing there’s a dog around when I’m gone. A big dog. Not sure how much of a guard dog Chicken Salad is, but hopefully, she’s protective enough to bark if she hears something strange. “Besides, it’s your dog. I cleared it with your family—oh, and updated the address for the dog groomer your family has on retainer?”
“I can brush my own dog.”
“Good, because this thing sheds worse than you do.”
She laughs. “I don’t shed!”
“Tell that to the hair I found wrapped around my nutsack . . .”
Her jaw drops, and she tries to hide the shocked smile.
I shake my head. “A dog groomer on retainer.” I still can’t get over that. “You are such a princess.”
She stands and scoffs at me, Chicken Salad right at her heels. “Shut up. I’m not a princess.” Her arms open to offer a hug, and I pull her close.
“Oh, you’re definitely a princess.” Without a second thought, I cup her jaw and press my thumb to her chin to open her mouth for mine. My tongue sweeps across hers, and she kisses me back with those plush lips I find so addicting. I like the way she sucks in a breath and holds it for a second, then releases it on a soft sigh. Like she’s as lost in the kiss as I am. Is she?
The dog howls, then she steps back. We stare at each other.
“Thank you. For Chicken Salad, I mean. This is one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received.”
Before Jordan, I never kissed a woman I didn’t have the intention of fucking right after. But this wasn’t a kiss because we were having sex or fooling around. It wasn’t even a kiss with the hope of something more. I did it because when her face lights up, it warms my insides and puts me at ease. Seeing her happiness is a natural high I never want to end.
“Happy Birthday, Sunshine.”
Then I get the hell out of there so I don’t need to think about the feelings expanding in my chest.
