into the room, her nails tapping a rhythm on the wood floor as she made her way to the rug under the bed. She huffed as she plopped down on the rug, her expression one of extreme exasperation.
Tom took a breath and shut the door. “What’s the matter, old girl? You think I need to move on?”
As usual she remained silent. Like a dog can talk. Wolves on the other hand...
He ran his hand through his hair. In the last twenty-four hours he’d had his daughter kidnapped and returned, been given a mate who turned furry once a month and discovered he was half werewolf. If he had any more revelations, he’d need to change his name to John the Baptist.
Tonight he needed to talk to Vonda. He would, once Elizabeth went to bed, which gave him even more time to avoid the unavoidable. Yee-haw.
Tom dropped his shirt and pants into the clothes hamper and shrugged on a t-shirt and jeans. Layla remained curled on the rug by the bed, waiting for him to dress. Tom looked from his dog to the bed, the bed where he spent many a fine night with Anita, the bed where he would spend many more nights with Vonda.
All day he’d thought about Vonda, what he would say, more importantly, what he would do to her body. He felt his erection grow at the thought of Vonda, her brown wavy hair, her amber eyes, her small hand as it grasped his dick, drawing out his pleasure.
Damn. He couldn’t go out to the kitchen looking like he’d stuffed a potato down his pants. Think, think. Yeah, fixing fences, nothing sexy about that one. Or he could look at the picture of his wife on their wedding day. Yep, that one did the trick.
Tom ran his hand through his hair.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he whispered to the picture. “I mean, you asked me to find someone and I did. More like she found me, but whatever, I’m going to take her tonight. Elizabeth will have the mother she needs and I, well, I like her too. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”
Was it his imagination or did the picture shake its head? He definitely needed some water; he must have been out in the sun too long.
“I love you, Anita, I’ll always love you. But Vonda’s here with me now and I need her. I hope you understand and that you aren’t mad. What the hell am I saying? You’re not even here. I’m talking to ghosts again.”
The picture frame felt cold in his hand. With a last look at the picture, he placed it in the dresser drawer. She was dead. Four years now. Time he got on with his life.
The woman he wanted now sat at his kitchen table and there was no room for ghosts.
****
Vonda watched as Tom walked back into the kitchen and started to pull things out of the freezer. Pots and pans flopped on the stove in a rush of movement. Nothing more sexy than a man who can cook. Especially a man who rocked a pair of faded Levi’s.
She took a sip of the now-cool tea and openly ogled Tom’s butt. Damn, but the man was hot. She needed to stop ogling especially since Elizabeth sat next to her. Needed to set a good example, since she was going to be the girl’s step-mom.
The tea went down the wrong way. Margie slapped Vonda on the back as Vonda wheezed and hacked.
“You okay?” Tom stopped chopping vegetables and looked at Vonda.
She nodded, whacking herself on the chest. Apparently drinking while thinking of impending motherhood, even if it was motherhood by step instead of birth, should be avoided. At least Elizabeth seemed to like her and the feeling was returned. Of course she doubted Elizabeth realized Vonda was the new mother figure in her life.
“Well, I should run. Things to do on the full moon. Will you be running with us tonight, Vonda?” Margie stood and hung her purse over her shoulder.
Vonda coughed one more time. “I’ll probably just stick around here, but will look for ya’ll.”
“Well, if we don’t see you this time, there’s always next month.”
“True. Hope you have a good run.”
“Same to you. Bye, Elizabeth. Bye, Tom.”
“Bye.” Tom
Tom took a breath and shut the door. “What’s the matter, old girl? You think I need to move on?”
As usual she remained silent. Like a dog can talk. Wolves on the other hand...
He ran his hand through his hair. In the last twenty-four hours he’d had his daughter kidnapped and returned, been given a mate who turned furry once a month and discovered he was half werewolf. If he had any more revelations, he’d need to change his name to John the Baptist.
Tonight he needed to talk to Vonda. He would, once Elizabeth went to bed, which gave him even more time to avoid the unavoidable. Yee-haw.
Tom dropped his shirt and pants into the clothes hamper and shrugged on a t-shirt and jeans. Layla remained curled on the rug by the bed, waiting for him to dress. Tom looked from his dog to the bed, the bed where he spent many a fine night with Anita, the bed where he would spend many more nights with Vonda.
All day he’d thought about Vonda, what he would say, more importantly, what he would do to her body. He felt his erection grow at the thought of Vonda, her brown wavy hair, her amber eyes, her small hand as it grasped his dick, drawing out his pleasure.
Damn. He couldn’t go out to the kitchen looking like he’d stuffed a potato down his pants. Think, think. Yeah, fixing fences, nothing sexy about that one. Or he could look at the picture of his wife on their wedding day. Yep, that one did the trick.
Tom ran his hand through his hair.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he whispered to the picture. “I mean, you asked me to find someone and I did. More like she found me, but whatever, I’m going to take her tonight. Elizabeth will have the mother she needs and I, well, I like her too. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”
Was it his imagination or did the picture shake its head? He definitely needed some water; he must have been out in the sun too long.
“I love you, Anita, I’ll always love you. But Vonda’s here with me now and I need her. I hope you understand and that you aren’t mad. What the hell am I saying? You’re not even here. I’m talking to ghosts again.”
The picture frame felt cold in his hand. With a last look at the picture, he placed it in the dresser drawer. She was dead. Four years now. Time he got on with his life.
The woman he wanted now sat at his kitchen table and there was no room for ghosts.
****
Vonda watched as Tom walked back into the kitchen and started to pull things out of the freezer. Pots and pans flopped on the stove in a rush of movement. Nothing more sexy than a man who can cook. Especially a man who rocked a pair of faded Levi’s.
She took a sip of the now-cool tea and openly ogled Tom’s butt. Damn, but the man was hot. She needed to stop ogling especially since Elizabeth sat next to her. Needed to set a good example, since she was going to be the girl’s step-mom.
The tea went down the wrong way. Margie slapped Vonda on the back as Vonda wheezed and hacked.
“You okay?” Tom stopped chopping vegetables and looked at Vonda.
She nodded, whacking herself on the chest. Apparently drinking while thinking of impending motherhood, even if it was motherhood by step instead of birth, should be avoided. At least Elizabeth seemed to like her and the feeling was returned. Of course she doubted Elizabeth realized Vonda was the new mother figure in her life.
“Well, I should run. Things to do on the full moon. Will you be running with us tonight, Vonda?” Margie stood and hung her purse over her shoulder.
Vonda coughed one more time. “I’ll probably just stick around here, but will look for ya’ll.”
“Well, if we don’t see you this time, there’s always next month.”
“True. Hope you have a good run.”
“Same to you. Bye, Elizabeth. Bye, Tom.”
“Bye.” Tom
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