Page 24 of Love is Trash in Hallow's Cove

“Unless I leave the socks on the couch and forget to take out the trash,” Jake deadpans.

“Exactly, pookie,” I tease back. “Don’t make me break out the dolls again.”

Jake pretends to shudder, and I place a hand on the back of his neck and lean over the console toward him. Our lips meet and all the fun and excitement from our fake marriage counseling transforms into a thrumming desire.

God, he’s such a good kisser. Jake kisses me like I’m meant to be savored for hours. Like he’d be happy to kiss me forever, if I let him. Though, I’ve caught a glimpse of the massive bulge in his pants a few times, so I’m sure he’d also like to do more.

Neither one of us has pushed us past kissing yet. Not even any tit fondling or ass grabbing, as much as I’d be down for that. Hell, if he wanted to fuck me right here in this parking lot in broad daylight, I’d go with it. But something is holding Jake back, so I don’t push. We’ll get there eventually, and it’s kind of fun not to rush into bed. I had to buy a new vibrator and have been using it twice a day, but it’s fun.

Jake inhales deeply, and lets out a soft groan, his fingers tightening on my arm for a moment before he eases back, eyes gleaming gold and cheeks flushed.

“Well,wife, care to go get that ice cream? I don’t come to Stonebridge often, but I’ve heard good things about a place over in Mulberry Plaza.”

My ovaries threaten to explode at him using the word “wife” for me, but I hide what it does to me with a laugh. “Sure. I’m always down to get ice cream with my infuriating fake husband.”

I have to put the word “fake” on there so I don’t sound too eager about calling him my husband. I’m the one who told him I wanted things to evolve naturally, not rush into something. But as I stare at Jake’s handsome profile as he pulls out of the parking lot, my panties wet and stomach fluttering, it’s hard to keep my heart guarded.

I’m on my own tonight, since Jake is busy playing D&D with his friends. He offered to skip it and take me out, but he’s apparently missed it a couple times recently, so I didn’t want to be the source of frustrations with his gaming group.

Besides, I need a night without Jake to think.

We’ve been dating for three weeks. Three of the wackiest, most wonderful weeks in my life. When I’m around him, there’s a potent mix of bubbly new relationship excitement and an innate comfort that his presence evokes. Jake just feelsright.

Yeah, he’s weird as fuck, but he’s the funniest, kindest man I’ve ever met. And not only that, but he looks at me like I matter. Like he cares about my opinions and isgenuinely listening and interested when I tell him about myself. Like I’m not just a pretty girl to fool around with and then move on.

It’s only been three weeks, but I’m falling for him. Hard.

I wish I had some friends to talk to so I could run things by someone who isn’t besotted, but after my breakup, I lost everyone close to me. I’ve called Aunt Betsy a few times, but every time she had so many exciting updates to share about her honeymoon adventures that I didn’t bring up Jake. My parents aren’t an option because they already weren’t thrilled with me moving to a town populated by monsters, so the thought of me dating one might give them a heart attack.

I’m all alone with my ever-increasing attraction to Jake, and I’m more than a little worried I’m going to mess things up. What if once we run out of silly date ideas, he realizes I don’t have any substance? We’ve had serious, deep conversations, but sometimes it feels like Jake is holding part of himself back.

It could be nothing, but my mind can’t let it go. There’s something he’s not telling me, and I’m worried that whatever it is will burst my bubble of happiness and I’ll go back to being even lonelier than I was before I met him.

Feeling restless, I decide to do a deep-clean of my aunts’ place and try to get rid of the incense smell once and for all. With music blasting in my earbuds and hands busy with a scrubber, I’m able to quiet my mind for a bit.

Hours and two full trash bags later, I’m heading out to the dumpster, sweaty but less stressed. It’s hard to worryabout the guy you’re dating when you’re trying not to pass out from bleach fumes.

It’s late, but the lights are still off at Jake’s place, which is good because I don’t want him stumbling upon me out here looking like a hot mess. I toss the bags into the dumpster and turn around to head back inside, when I see a shape at the end of the alley.

A small, chunky, four-legged shape.

“It’s you!” I whisper-shout in delight.

I thought maybe I’d hallucinated the close encounter with my panty bandit, but here he is again.

Crouching down, I make little noises of encouragement like you would with a cat, even though I have no idea if raccoons respond to that kind of thing.

It looks at me for a long moment, like it can’t decide if it wants to bolt or come closer, eyes glittering in the dim glow of the string lights that are still up from the other night.

“Whatever you want to do is fine, buddy,” I murmur. “I’d love to cuddle again if you don’t sniff my crotch, but if you’re nervous, you don’t have to.”

The raccoon scratches at its chest with its weird, dextrous fingers, and though I know it doesn’t understand what I said, it still looks like it’s considering.

“You’re so freaking cute,” I whisper, overwhelmed by the adorable creature.

Maybe that’s what helps it decide. More likely, it smells the half-eaten candy bar in my jacket pocket. Either way, the raccoon moves closer and more glee rises in me.

I feel like a trashy version of a Disney princess with my ability to bond with this raccoon, and honestly, it tracks. I’m a weird trash panda at heart, too.

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