Page 23 of The Alpha's Assistant & The Dom Next Door
She’s petty and cruel to me. She never shed a single tear over our parents. There’s nothing there tomiss.
The house is mostly barren inside: the only parts that I have fully furnished so far are the kitchen, one bathroom, and the master bedroom. I pass by a living room that is still piled with boxes I just haven’t opened yet. Moving exhausted me, like so much else does these days. Now, I just make myself unpack and set up a few things a day, and stop when I start to get weepy orsick.
The encounter with Shayla has left me even more drained than usual, to the point where I can feel myself shaking slightly. I decide on a nap. My therapist has worked hard to get me to look after myself better, especially when I start showing warning signs of a meltdown. Apparently some of it has sunkin.
My bedroom is exactly as I dreamed it would look back when I was a little girl and couldn’t have any elegant things thanks to my sister. The enormous white iron canopy bed, with its frame draped in fairy lights and multicolored gauze, the patchwork velvet coverlet in copper and green, the Susan Seldon Boulet prints of unicorns and women, hanging on the white plaster walls, all of them new and undamaged. It’s a haven for me—one I’m grateful to have after the trials of the lastyear.
In the afternoons when I take my naps, I fall asleep to birdsong. In the mornings, when I can sleep as long as I need without being shouted at, I wake up to the same songs. And sometimes I also hear a deep voice calling happily, and a little girl giggling–and that is the best thing around here to wake upto.
Carl. The grizzled mystery man next door, who loves his daughter and fills her days with laughter and joy. He’s huge compared to me, all muscle, with shaggy blond hair, narrow blue eyes, and a smile like the sun coming up. I can pretty much remember the exact moment that I fell in love withhim.
I was directing the small group of gardeners I’d hired to tame the then-jungle in my backyard when I saw him playing with his daughter for the first time. I didn’t mean to spy on them, exactly—I never do—but on that day, I was captivated. As I watched him being so kind and gentle with the girl, I wondered: would he be just as kind and tender with the woman he loves aswell?
The dreams of him started almost right away. I welcome them, because they drown out the nightmares. I would rather wake up shivering in the middle of the night with unfamiliar pleasure and need than with terror and loss. Those dreams—those feelings—are like an invitation away from despair and back tolife.
This time, I don’t dream of anything at all. But I smile—really smile, for the first time today—when that now-familiar sound wakes me up. It’s that lovely deep voice again, singing a few bits of a kids’ song while his little girl giggles louder andlouder.
Spirits lifting, I head to my window towatch.
Chapter2
Carl
The cute little lady next door is watching us again. She’s harmless, so I don’t mind. I get the impression that she’s shy and awkward, more than anything. Skittish, like a straykitten.
My guess is she’s recovering from something. Her shyness, her listlessness, her lack of visitors—they all point to someone who has withdrawn to lick her wounds. She seems like someone who needs to be taken care of. And when I look at her … I think that I really wouldn’t mindvolunteering.
She’s adorable. Statuesque and sexy, but demure, with wide, dark eyes I could fall into, and a gorgeous mane of auburn hair she braids and ties up like a librarian. She always dresses modestly, but her body seems to rebel against it—ample breasts pushing out the front of her sweaters, lush hips and spectacular ass stretching the wool of her longskirts.
Now and again, I’m very tempted to go over and introduce myself, but I’m waiting on her to work up the nerve instead. I don’t want to impose on her; she might get scared away. But when I see the longing way she looks at me when she thinks I can’t see her … I start thinking about what it would be like to haveher.
I haven’t had a woman in my life since Jenny’s mama died, and she wasn’t into the kind of play that I am. I was loyal, so I let that part of myself go unsatisfied. But ever since I’ve felt ready to move on after Mary, I’ve been looking for that special someone who won’t be satisfied without a good man’s firm hand to guideher.
In the bedroom, anyway. Outside of it, I need someone who loves kids and can deal with the rest of my lifestyle. You don’t make a billion dollars on legal pot without getting your seed money somewhere a little shady. And once Jenny’s off to bed, I still like to smoke every now andthen.
It’s tough to find someone who’s really compatible with everything I am and want. But after the sad mess with Mary, I’m absolutely done with settling. You do that and it doesn’t work out, and then you feel like an idiot for making sacrifices for something doomed from thestart.
She wasn’t a bad person; I loved her, I really did. But she was carrying something besides our baby, something she didn’t talk about. Post-partum depression just finally brought it out inher.
I don’t like thinking about how she died, or how she tried to take Jenny with her. I’m just glad Jenny was so tiny then that she doesn’t remember any of it. I don’t hate Mar—but I hate the thing inside of her that made her so horribly crafty and selfish in the end, like a womanpossessed.
Now, I stay alone by staying picky. But as I look up to see young Miss Emmeline looking down at me wistfully from her upstairs window, I start to wonder if I couldn’t try seeing how we work together. If nothing else, it could make for a very interestingfling.
At this point in my life, I’m hoping for more though. After three and a half years, Jenny is independent and well-behaved enough for us to add to our little family. “Okay, kiddo. Are your eyesclosed?”
“Uh-huh!” Jenny has her eyes closed and covered, biting her lip withamusement.
I go to the shed, where I tucked her present shortly before summoning her away from her cartoons, and bring out the covered dog crate within. I set it down next to her, uncover it, and after making sure the gate is locked, I open itsdoor.
The chubby, wagging bundle of golden fur and floppy ears is a pound rescue, with enough Golden Retriever in him that he goes straight for the little girl and flops against her legs, whine-yapping. I fight a grin ... and then glance up at Emmeline’s window. She’s still standing there, smiling wistfully ... but definitelysmiling.
Two with one stone,I think as I see her looking happy for once.Or rather, two with one puppy.“Okay, you can open youreyes.”
Jenny uncovers her eyes and looks down ... and her jaw drops. “Puppy!” she manages to squeak as the furball bows playfully, his whole butt wagging now. She crouches down and he bounces into her arms, wiggling and licking herface.
“Oh, wow, it’s a doggie! Where’d you get a doggie from? He’s so cute!” She bursts out laughing as he starts licking her ears in a frantic, slobbery tickleattack.
“I was waiting until you were old enough. But you have to help me look after him, okay? And he’s gonna need a name.” I manage to tame my big, stupid grin down into something like a kindlysmile.
