Waiting for Willa (Big Sky, #3)(23)

Please, God, let there be nakedness.

But first, there’s dinner and puppy detail.

My phone rings, and I frown at the number. It’s the mechanic.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Willa, it’s Tom. Say, I know I promised you the car back by Wednesday, but it looks like it’s going to take longer.”

I sigh and rub my hand over my face.

“How much longer?”

“At least another week. I’m sorry to do that to you; we’re still waiting on parts.”

“How is it taking this long?”

“We live in the boonies, Willa,” he says, laughing in my ear. “Everything takes a long time. But I’ll let you know when the parts get here.”

“Thanks. Keep me posted.”

I hang up and sigh just as Max comes back in with Rocky, the name Alex settled on for his pup.

“What’s up?” Max asks as Rocky runs over to his water dish.

“That’s it, drink more water and pee on my rug again,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Why don’t they make diapers for puppies?”

“Good question,” Max says, wrapping his arms around me from behind and burying his face in my neck, sending shivers over every damn inch of my body. “What’s wrong?”

“Tom called. No car by Wednesday.”

“Did he say why?”

“Still waiting on parts. I don’t get it, Max. My car isn’t that old.”

“Maybe they sent him the wrong ones to start with,” he suggests, his hands gliding down my sides to my hips. I suddenly don’t care about my car anymore. “This smells great.”

“Tacos always were your favorite.”

“Yeah, the tacos smell good, too.” He grins against my skin, and I want to turn in his arms and strip him naked, then have my way with him.

But the ground beef is sizzling, so I turn my attention to dinner, sprinkling taco seasoning and water over the meat and giving it a stir.

“The puppy is quiet,” I announce, looking around in panic.

“I’m on it,” he says, leaving me to see where the little terrorist ran off to. “Found him.”

“What’s he doing?”

“You don’t want to know.”

I blow out a breath while I question my life choices.

“You’ll need to replace the rug after he grows out of this puppy phase.”

“Did he pee on it again? You just took him out.”

“No, he chewed the corner.”

“Damn it.” I glare at the little thing and shake my spatula at him. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.”

“Arf,” Rocky replies, panting happily and snuggling against Max’s chin.

“In the crate for him while we eat. He can have a chew bone and his rope toy.”

Max gets Rocky settled, and I dish up dinner.

“I guess I didn’t realize how much Alex does for Rocky,” I admit. “He’s really done a good job of taking care of that dog.”

“What do you do with him during the day when Alex is at school, and you’re at work?”

I cringe. “I’ve been taking him to the shop. I said I wouldn’t do that, but he’s just a baby. He shouldn’t be in that crate, alone, all day long. So, I have a bed, leash, and crate for him at work.”

“You’re a sucker,” Max says with a laugh.

“Would you leave him home alone for sometimes ten hours at a time?”

He seems to think it over, chewing his tacos. “No. That’s a long time.”

“Exactly. My hope is that as he gets older and calms down a bit, he’ll be easier.”

“It will be,” Max assures me.

He clears the dishes when we’re finished eating. I check on Rocky, who has his nose pressed to the edge of the crate as if to say, “help me! I’m in prison.”

I let him out, scoop him up, and we go into the living room to turn on the TV.

“Want to watch a movie?” I ask Max when he walks in from the kitchen, carrying two mugs of coffee. “Mm, thanks.”

“We can watch whatever you like,” he says as he sits next to me. The way the man fills out a pair of jeans should be illegal. And when you add that black Henley with the sleeves pushed up on his forearms, well…

Hello, sex on a stick.

Rocky abandons me for Max, turns a circle, and falls asleep in his lap.

Little traitor.

I flip through the movie channels as we sip our coffee.

“I like your house,” Max says.

“Thank you.”

“It’s not at all like I remember it.”

I nod and set the remote aside, mid-search. Looks like it’ll be Armageddon in the background.

I reach over and mute Bruce Willis and then turn to Max.

“I’ve done a lot of work to it. When Cary and I bought it, we knew it was a fixer-upper. But we loved the property, and the size of the house was great.”

“Agreed. How much square footage do you have?”

“Almost four thousand,” I reply with a smile. “And one of the perks of being on my own large property outside of town? I can add on or do pretty much anything I want. The permits from the county aren’t as strict as in the city limits.”