Page 14 of Loco

Damn, she was a brat. I liked it, but I was fighting everything not to reach out and give her ass a swat to the point my fist was clenched—the one not still guarding the thermostat, that was. Glaring at me, she sat back down and dramatically reached for not one but three blankets, tucking them in around her like her life depended on it. Then she made a point of extending one side over my cat, called over the dogs, and wrapped them up, too, when they lay on the floor in front of her.

Like they’d ever freeze. The damn animals had better beds and food than I did.

With Dog still hogging his portion of the couch and the dogs now curled up where they were, I sighed and walked through to the kitchen to do something that’d piss her off. I shook their treat tins, making them snap out of their naps and scramble to get to where I was, inevitably dragging the blankets with them and making her squeal.

The toothpaste debacle was next. Before bedtime, we discovered that I squeezed from the middle, which apparently made me a barbarian, and Sayla squeezed from the bottom, which apparently made her superior in all things toothpaste-related.

Later that night, I woke up to her kicking me.

“You’re snoring,” she hissed, shoving my shoulder.

“I do not,” I muttered, still half-asleep, though deep down, I knew I probably did. It was one of the reasons I kept the house on the cooler side—too much heat dried out my sinuses, and I’d inevitably wake up with a raw throat, the unfortunate consequence of snoring all night.

Sayla, however, was not about to let me off the hook. “You do. It’s like a chainsaw in slow motion.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“Tell that to my last remaining brain cell.”

I smirked into my pillow. “It left around the time you bought that house.” The pillow smacking me over the head was immediate, but I took the hit like a champ, burrowing deeper into my blankets with a satisfied sigh. “If you don’t like it, you can sleep on the couch.”

I knew she wouldn’t. The couch was comfortable as hell, but the second she settled in, she’d be ambushed by my personal zoo. It had been cute earlier—her sitting there, sipping tea, Lynyrd sprawled across her lap like a contented boulder, Skynyrd perched on the armrest, and Dog licking her elbow like she was his last meal. It was all fun and games until she tried to move, at which point she’d realized Lynyrd had the body mass of a small bear, and Dog and Skynyrd had some unsavory habits regarding personal space and grooming. She wasn’t about to relive that experience all night.

With a frustrated growl, she turned onto her side, tugging at the duvet in an apparent attempt to steal it away from me. Unfortunately for her, I’d already anticipated this maneuver and had it securely trapped under me, holding fast. The result? She yanked, not expecting the resistance but definitely not quite prepared for the way it jerked her back toward me.

“Ugh, you’re impossible,” she grumbled under her breath before giving up, muttering something that was probably a curse in my direction.

To make sure she knew I was at least ten steps ahead of her, I let out a slow, satisfied chuckle before yawning dramatically, rubbing it in. What I wasn’t expecting was the sharp jab of her heel connecting directly with my ass. It wasn’t exactly excruciating pain, but it was definitely in the ‘mildly unpleasant’ category. Not that I’d ever admit it.

I grunted but didn’t react otherwise, letting the silence stretch between us. After a beat, she sighed and shifted again, pulling the blanket to her chin as if nothing had happened.

Yeah. This was going to be fun.

Chapter 5

Roque

The storm didn’t let up. If anything, it got worse, burying the roads under even more snow, making it clear that Sayla was stuck with me longer than either of us anticipated. That led to some unexpected domestic situations.

The storm finally knocked the power out sometime after midnight, but I was ready for it. I had two generators—one hooked up to keep the essentials running and a backup just in case. Within minutes, the hum of the generator filled the silence, keeping the lights, heat, and fridge running while the world outside turned into a frozen hellscape.

Of course, just because I had power didn’t mean the storm wasn’t still a pain in my ass. Living in Texas, you didn’t expect snowstorms like this, but when they hit, they hit hard. The first thing I had to do was get bundled up like I was heading into the Arctic, trudging through knee-deep snow to make sure my outdoor pipes weren’t freezing. I wrapped any exposed ones with extra insulation and left faucets dripping inside to keepthe water flowing. Then, there was the matter of my driveway—shoveling was pointless since the wind just blew everything back, but I still had to clear a path to the generator and make sure the exhaust wasn’t getting blocked by ice buildup.

The shack out back needed checking, too. The storm meant my shed doors were probably frozen shut, and if I didn’t knock the ice off them now, I’d be dealing with a bigger headache later. And then there were the animals—Lynyrd and Skynyrd weren’t exactly outdoor survivalists, so I had to let them out just long enough to do their business before they came barreling back inside like their paws had been personally offended by the cold.

By the time I was done, my fingers were numb, my nose felt like it was about to fall off, and I was cursing whatever part of me thought living out here was a great idea. But at least the house was warm, the power was on, and I wouldn’t wake up to burst pipes or a driveway that might as well be an ice rink. That was something, at least.

And it meant that Sayla stopped fucking around with the thermostat because she didn’t want to overpower the generator. My home wasn’t tropical anymore, but it was finally comfortable.

Cooking together that night was a disaster when she refused to follow directions. “You’re supposed to stir, not annihilate it,” I said, watching as she aggressively attacked the pot of chili.

She scowled. “It’s called efficiency.”

“It’s called murder.”

Regardless of what she’d done to the chili, it still tasted okay. She was just so obstinate.

And I really liked that about her. The bickering made it fun, too.

---