“She did let me buy her groceries and make her breakfast this morning, and she didn’t kick me in the balls. I’d call that progress.”
“So, you did sleep with her then.”
“No. I said I bought her groceries and made her breakfast. Stop baby-talking the otters long enough to listen, dickhole.”
Dax stops squealing over the otters to look at me with wide, shocked eyes.
“You cooked her breakfast?”
I nod.
“And you didn’t sleep with her?”
I shake my head, letting out a sigh as I bend down to take a rubber hamburger that Jennifer Otterston brings me, standing back up to toss it to the other side of the room for her to scramble away and fetch.
“Fuuuck. You really have changed,” Dax says in awe.
“It’s not that I don’t want to sleep with her. I get a goddamn hard-on every time she walks in the room,” I complain. “She wouldn’t give me the time of day five years ago, because that’s all I was to her. A complete douchebag who only wanted one thing out of a woman. I’m not that guy anymore, and I want to prove that to her. Taking care of her keeps my mind off my fucking missing babies and if they’re hungry, or hurt, or worse. And it takes some stress off Harley’s shoulders. And it makes her happy, even if she’d rather swallow glass than admit it. I just really fucking like making her happy, man.”
The room is quiet for a few minutes, aside from the clicking of otter nails on the floor and their little chirps and squeaks as they play around the room.
“I’m really happy for you. It’s about time you grew up,” Dax finally speaks with a laugh, cutting it off quickly. “But seriously. Always take an otter with you. You can fit one in your pocket, right?”
DJ starts reaching for one of my pockets while eyeing up Harry still cradled in his other arm. I shove him away when Ryan walks into the room from my office, pulling the dutch door closed behind him.
“I’m finished with my interview with Harley. She said to tell you she’s done with everyone, and if you want to meet her up at the farmhouse, she’ll be there for another ten minutes before she leaves,” Ryan announces, bending down to give Motter Theresa and Otter De La Hoya some quick attention while they chirp and squeak at his feet.
“Yo, dude! We need your help with something,” DJ says to Ryan, motioning him over with the hand that isn’t wrapped around Harry and holding him to his chest.
When Ryan is standing in front of us, DJ points to me. “Look at this man. Now look away. Now look back again. Do you want to sleep with him?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I mutter as Ryan looks at DJ in confusion.
“Ummm, no?”
“Exactly! Now, wait for it,” DJ orders, handing Harry over to me.
I grab the wriggly otter out of his arms before DJ drops him, and Harry immediately tries to climb up my shoulders and onto my head. Quickly pulling a few treats out of my pocket, he relaxes in my arms and lets me feed them to him.
“You might be experiencing some tingling down there, maybe a little confusion. It’s perfectly natural,” DJ tells Ryan, stepping up next to him to put an arm around his shoulders while they both stare at me feeding Harry. “But you definitely want to sleep with him now, am I right?”
“Ohhh, I get it!” Ryan suddenly smiles and then winks at me. “You’re trying to help me with that little problem I told you about earlier. Man, it’s so hard to believe you were such a jerk only yesterday. But you really are a nice guy, Mr. Trevino. So kind, and helpful, and willing to go above and beyond… it’s just amazing. So, yes! Yes, I do want to sleep with you! Screw you, Nana!”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” DJ cheers, giving Ryan a high five.
“Christ,” I mumble, bending over to put Harry down so he can run off and play with the others.
“I mean, I have a girlfriend, and I’m not into guys or anything,” Ryan reassures me. “But you are a very good-looking man, in an off-the-grid, sexy lumberjack way. The otters definitely take it up a notch.”
“Oooh. Off-the-grid, that’s a good one.” DJ nods.
“Right? Like he might murder the whole town with an axe, or he might just come in and sleep with all the women there. Who’s to know?” Ryan adds.
“Totally.”
“Okay, I think we’re done here. I need to get up to the farmhouse before Harley leaves. DJ, you know the way out. I’ll call you later,” I tell him, giving him a salute before heading toward my office.
“For fuck’s sake, take a goddamn adorable otter with you! Have you learned nothing here today?” he shouts after me.
CHAPTER 11
Take Off Your Pants
Harley
Dax: Does this hat make Jennifer Otterston look RIBBITulous?
I laugh at the text that pops up on the screen of my phone that’s perched in its holder on the air vents, the light from the message illuminating the inside of my dark car. Putting the zoom lens camera up on the dashboard, I take a break from the boring surveillance I’ve been doing for the last three hours. Clicking on the screen and opening Dax’s text, I laugh again when I see he attached a picture of himself holding Jennifer Otterston, who is wearing a green crocheted hat that looks like a frog with big googly eyes on top. Jennifer looks adorable, and Dax looks so good with his face nuzzled into the side of Jennifer’s furry little neck that I want to lick my phone screen.
Pulling my phone out of its holder, I quickly shoot off a text to him while glancing over the steering wheel and out the front window every few seconds at the house way down at the end of the street I’ve been watching all night.
Me: Quit bugging me. I toad you to leave me alone.
Dax: Hey, you said I could… Ahhh, I see what you did there. Look at you, being all punny and fun! You miss me, don’t you?
I sigh, looking up from my phone and back out at the dark, quiet street I’ve been parked on since the sun went down. I do miss him, the big idiot. I spent exactly three days with the guy and then got called away on an emergency with another case when I was at The Backyard before I could give him a summary of my employee interviews or say goodbye to him. That was a week ago.
Seven days.
One hundred and sixty-eight hours.
I have lost my damn mind that I’ve actually counted how many hours it’s been since the last time I saw Dax Trevino. Fine, so I didn’t actually count them. I’ve repeatedly googled how long it’s been, because math is stupid and basically a form of human torture.
Ever since I had to race away from the sanctuary last week, because a missing police K9 I’ve been trying to find for a month had been spotted in the next county over, Dax and I have had crazy-busy schedules. Whenever I’ve stopped by The Backyard to have meetings with employees about Chris and Lincoln, he’s been gone, picking up supplies or taking an animal to the vet. Whenever he’s stopped by my dad’s home office to drop off security camera footage or any other random items I’ve needed and asked for during this investigation, I’ve been out meeting with clients and doing surveillance.
I’m still not sure yet if I’m considering it lucky or unlucky that we’ve continued to communicate via text for the last week. So many texts. So many interruptions when I’m trying to work that I want to be annoyed, but I can’t. Dax makes me laugh, and he breaks up the monotony on nights like tonight. How the hell can I be mad when almost every text he sends me is accompanied by a new otter picture? I can’t. It seems otters are my kryptonite.