Page 73 of The Jackpot Screwer
Bronte looked at me and panicked. “Oh God, we lost him. I told you we were going to be crappy parents.”
Turning around, my eyes searching the parking lot for our puppy I felt huge relief when I spotted him over by a Mini. A Mini with Dwayne Driscoll Dog Trainer decal on the sides. We both started to walk toward him, thankful he hadn’t gone far.
“Mani, you’re a naughty little puppy,” Bronte cooed as we reached him.
“What you doing here?” I asked with a shake of my head. When I reached down to pick up his leash, the smell of shit hit me. “What the fuck.”
Bronte started to giggle. “Oh God, Carter, look, he’s pooped right under the door.”
And there it was, a huge pile of shit, right where Dwayne would probably step in it, considering it was already going dark and he had over an hour of preening left.
“Good boy,” I said, roughing him around his ears. “You’re so damn clever. Okay, let’s go home.”
As I picked up the leash, he cocked his leg and pissed up the door, bringing a gasp from Bronte.
“Carter, look,” she cried. “He cocked his leg for the first time. He’s never done it before. My clever boy.”
“See,” I replied, taking her hand in mine. “We’re fucking brilliant at raising kids. This is going to be as easy as pie.”
Then we went home, and I fulfilled the promise I’d made with my smile while Dwayne Driscoll was being a dick.
“I’m still not sure about the color, baby.” I stood back and tilted my head to one side, looking at the wall that Carter had just painted a pale lemon. “You don’t think it’s a little wishy-washy?”
He took a deep breath and ground out, “Nope.”
I got why he was a little pissy, it was the third time we’d painted the walls of the nursery, which after me living there for two-and-a-bit months, I’d finally agreed we needed to start.
Glancing at the kick ass jungle mural, which Jacob Crowne had created for us, and then back to the walls, my heart sank. “It’s not right, baby.” Insipid lemon walls just didn’t cut it, especially when there was something so awesome on the fourth one.
I saw the paint roller in Carter’s hand drop into the tray and then felt the splashes of paint hit my face. That made me feel a tad pissy, but knew I had to keep a lid on it.
“You’re mad, aren’t you?”
“Nope. So, what color would you like.”
Yeah, he had his tail up. There was a twitch in his jaw, and I was pretty sure I heard his teeth grind.
“Green maybe.” I winced as I said it.
“Would that be the green we used before the cream, which we used before the yellow.”
“Lemon, not yellow, baby, but…” I paused wondering whether I should accept the lemon. “We can leave it.”
“No. It’s fine. You think we can take a break first?”
Time was moving on. It was almost two p.m. and we’d both taken a day off specially to do the painting. If we took a break it wasn’t likely we’d get it finished.
“It’ll just be a quick one,” Carter sighed, obviously reading my mind. “I just need a cold drink.”
He looked like he’d run a marathon, he was sweating so much. The AC was barely making any difference because we had the window open for the fumes and Carter had done the majority of the painting, seeing as my beach ball was now more like a yoga ball. This meant I couldn’t even bend to reach the paint and if I got on the floor, I couldn’t get up again, hence Carter having to work extra hard.
A break was the least he deserved, but I was feeling guilty, so had something better in mind. Something else that would relax him.
Moving over to him, I reached out for his hands and pulled him to me. When we were as close as we could get with a baby between us, I wound my arms around his neck and curled up on my toes to drop a kiss to his lips.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
Green paint streaked the ends of his hair falling into his eyes, and there was a cream splash on his cheek. More evidence of how hard he’d worked.
