Page 22 of Dubious Match
They never hit on me, I rarely see them, and they email here and there to see if anything needs to be updated at the house. It’s the perfect rental property.
The front yard is well maintained, and I take the driveway toward the right to my house. I really love this place. I can’t get attached, and I know that, but damn it’s one of the nicest places I’ve lived in my adult life.
With that sad thought, I turn off the van and hop out with my bags. I’m starving, need to feed Pixie before she loses her mind, and then I have to look at how much I’m going to spend tomorrow to fix Bertha.
Walking across my cute little pavers, I unlock the door, smiling at my black and white cat as she meows.
“Hi, baby,” I coo. I never know what to expect with her. Sometimes it’s sweet headbutts and purring, and other times it’s psycho maniac kitty that stalks me throughout the house.
Closing the door behind me, I drop to my knees and offer her my hand to sniff. She wrinkles her nose at the scent, and I roll my eyes.
“I’m sorry, you can smell the gloves, huh?”
Dropping down, I let her smell my hair before she bumps against my head happily.
“That’s better, huh?” I ask, standing.
Pixie growls, but I ignore her as I walk into the small kitchen to get her bowl.
“You’re getting hangry,” I admonish, getting her wet food and pouring it into the bowl. Nudging it over to her, I find myself forgiven as I begin to cook for myself.
It’s nothing crazy, just some stir fry and microwave rice. My stomach is threatening to eat itself, and this is the easiest way to feed myself and have leftovers. Curling up with my food, I pick up my tablet and begin researching as I eat.
Absently, I also play with Pixie with a ball, smirking as she chases it back and forth. By the time she tires, I’m done with my food, cleaning the dishes and putting the leftovers away. While it’s not the same thing every day, it is very quiet here. The wind howls past the windows as night blankets the sky, and I curl up with my cat as she naps.
I may as well enjoy these cuddles while she’s willing to give them. My cat reminds me of Jekyll and Hyde in a lot of ways. I found her in a camping ground two years ago when she was maybe six weeks old sleeping behind my back left van wheel.
I was living out of my van, seeing clients in Hartland, Wisconsin, and it was clear whoever her mama was had left her behind. So I became her mom. I fed her with a dropper, took her with me as I saw clients, though she stayed curled up in my bed during my appointments, and she acclimated really well to van life.
I may even say that she misses it because she doesn’t get to see me all of the time anymore.
I’m still curled up making notes of what I need when I fall asleep next to Pixie. It’s an exceptionally comfortable couch. More often than not, I pass out here instead of making it up the few stairs to the bed.
Still, it’s the best sleep because I’m not worried about anyone trying to get into my van. Sometimes, that gets old.
It’s nice to just feel…safe.
Five
MALCOLM
Sprawled out in my porch swing in nothing but low slung joggers, I blow out a breath. Well, we fucked that up royally. The four of us have been in a funk for the past two days, and it’s fucking up our supposedly “relaxing” weekend.
“I never thought we’d even have a scent match,” Brice mumbles, coming out to join me with a beer.
The garden and our part of the back yard is completely enclosed, allowing the tiny house to sit alone off to the side with another gate surrounding the property. It gives our current tenant the illusion of privacy, while we have ours.
She’s quiet, sticks to herself, and is very polite. It makes me happy we decided to let her rent. We told her that it’s something we often do, but that was a white lie. We don’t. But when she posted in Omega’s Link that she was looking for a rental or camping ground for her van, I saw it and convinced my brothers to rent the tiny house to her.
That’s the kind of pack we are, not this bullshit posturing we gave to Hollis.
“Well, we do,” I sigh. “Not only that, we were absolute dicks to her. Do you really think she’s with those other alphas?”
“I don’t know,” Brice sighs. “I couldn’t see any bond bites on her skin, and her dress was…”
“Fucking amazing,” I growl. “Is it awful that I almost creamed my pants when she licked her knife?”
“Who says I didn’t?” Felix asks, joining us. He sits in one of the other chairs, dropping his head back as he drinks in the sunlight. “Hollis is…”
