Page 39 of Wasted On You

God, there were so many things Kip didn’t know. And if she were to be honest with herself, not everything was on Mike Paul. She had her own issues. He disappeared down the hall, and she glanced over to the food and wine left on the island. With a sigh, she decided not to think about anything other than cleanup. She needed a good night’s sleep because tomorrow, she had to be on her toes.

The man who held her heart was coming for her.

And Ivy Wilkens needed to be ready.

Chapter11

It was still darkwhen Mike Paul fell out of bed. Half asleep and in need of coffee, he headed for the kitchen, set the machine to brew, and then stumbled into the shower. He was running on zero sleep. His mind was too keyed up, and damned if he hadn’t stared at the ceiling all night, listening to the dogs snore.

He let it run cold for a couple of minutes, and when his eyes didn’t feel like they’d been poked by a thousand fire ants, he turned up the heat and let the water work its magic.

By the time he was done showering, the smell of coffee permeated the air. He got dressed, noting the time was just before five a.m. Weiner raised his head from his spot on the bed and yawned while Bun stretched his legs in the air, letting pretty much everything hang out. The dogs gave him a curious once over and settled back to sleep.

“Nice life,” he said as he headed to the kitchen. He needed caffeine, some eggs and bacon, and then an early start if he was going to be at Ivy’s at seven o’clock. He grinned at the thought and whistled to himself as he got busy in the kitchen. Half an hour later, he pulled on winter boots, his coat, and a wool hat, then let himself outside.

It was quiet. And big. And like so many other mornings before, it took his breath away. Stars still clung to the night sky, ignoring the shot of amber that teased from the horizon, and with snow crunching underfoot, he hunched his shoulders against the cold and headed for the barn. He had animals to look after and then a day to organize. Once he fed and watered the animals in his care, he dispensed meds, pulled some blood for the lab, and wrote a quick note for Jacob, who was due to come and clean out the stalls, pens, and kennels before school. By now, it was just after six. Mike Paul closed up and strode over to his office. Once inside, he made a fresh pot of coffee—Arlene was the kind of woman who needed caffeine as much as she needed air. While it brewed, he had a look over his day planner.

He smiled and nodded. It was a full day, which meant he had at least eight hours to work on thawing out the cold wind that whispered in Ivy’s ear. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He looked forward to the challenge.

With fifteen minutes to spare, Mike Paul tossed back another cup of joe and listened to his voicemail. He made a note to call a couple of folks back, then went and got his road kit ready. He was about to head outside when the door opened, and Arlene walked inside, shaking snow from her boots. She was small, round, and fierce—ran his office better than anyone could.

She was also nosy as hell, most certainly a spy for his mother, and had no qualms about putting her two cents into his business without him asking.

“You’re headed out early,” she said, doffing her hat. Her silver curls stood out in crazy spirals, electrified and static, and she smoothed them back into place before hanging up her coat.

“So are you.”

“I wanted an early start because I’m leaving at three-thirty. It’s my grandson’s Christmas play at school.” She practically beamed. “He’s one of the Wise Men.” She moved toward the coffee machine. “What’s your excuse?”

“I have to pick up someone before I head to my first call.”

“That so.” Arlene planted her glasses onto her face, poured a full cup, then added four sugars and a dollop of cream. “I hope you know what you’re doing, my boy.” She faced him, her eyes soft and kind of concerned. “You’re playing with fire, and if you’re not careful, you’ll feel the sting of it.”

There was no use denying anything. Hell, most of Big Bend probably knew today was the day that Mike Paul was going to take his shot. But still, a man had pride, so he did what he did best. He deflected. “It’s a charity thing, Arlene. Nothing more.” His words were even, and he opened the door, not in the mood for a lecture.

“If you say so.”

He ignored the comment. “Can you let out the dogs for me in a bit?”

“Sure can.”

“Oh, and Weiner needs his allergy medication. It’s?—”

“In the cupboard by the fridge.”

“Right.” He took one step forward. “You don’t need to make my bed.”

“No, but I will.” She winked and made a shooing motion.

Mike Paul closed the door behind him and jogged over to his truck. It was already running and warm—thank God for automatic starters—and once he tossed in his road kit, he slipped inside and tried to relax despite the nervous ball of crap inside his stomach.

You got this.

Shit, he thought. This was too important to give in to nerves. He rolled his shoulders, cranked his neck, turned up the music, and hit the road.

The ride out to Millie Sue’s old place took a bit. There’d been more snow overnight, but so far, the backroads hadn’t been cleared properly. He took his time and pulled up to her driveway at ten minutes after seven. A large SUV was running, the exhaust a plume of smoke that billowed in the cold. Light spilled from the large bay window, and he could see two shadows moving inside.

The thought of Lafferty and Ivy sharing the same space made his gut roil, and he wished he hadn’t had all that bacon. Putting his game face firmly in place, Mike Paul headed up onto the porch and gave a quick knock. Muffled sounds came from inside, and he was about to give another knock when the door opened, and the Yank he didn’t much care for, stood back and gave a sly grin. Lafferty had been good enough to accept his apology the week before, but they weren’t exactly friends. The weird thing was, Mike Paul was generally good at reading people, but this one, he couldn’t figure out.

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