The Player and the Pixie
Page 22
I cocked an eyebrow at this news. “Really?”
“Yes. But she decided to skip the missionary position and instead focus on charity work in the States. With dogs.”
“With dogs?” This news struck a chord and my eyes moved over Lucy with new, albeit unwilling, appreciation. I’d had a dog when I was younger. Rather, the family had a dog, though I’d considered him only mine. A pet was everything to an unloved child. I’d mourned his passing alone. At the time it had felt like losing a limb. Or maybe an organ.
As I studied her I supposed it made sense that she was an animal lover. She seemed like that sort, empathetic and compassionate. I felt a niggling thread of guilt and quickly quashed it.
“Yes,” he continued, still looking at Lucy, “the position with dogs—”
“Okay, we have to go.” Her usually soft voice was shrill as she grabbed my hand and tugged me away from her friend. “That mountain isn’t going to hike itself.”
I allowed myself to be led, but made her pause so I could collect the basket. She pulled her hand out of mine. I noticed her gaze flicker to Broderick then away to the planks of the porch.
Frowning at her averted gaze, I glanced at Broderick. He watched us with a slight smirk. When I caught his eye his smirk widened into an odd smile, odd, because it was encouraging.
I tried to return it.
I couldn’t.
So I turned away.
As we walked off the porch, side by side but not touching, I resolved to follow through with my plan as soon as possible. I already wanted Lucy. Nothing would be more disastrous than actually liking her too.
***
“You’re being quiet. Why are you being so quiet?”
Because I’m watching your glorious arse as you climb the hill and lamenting that I’ll only be allowed to grab it once. If I’m lucky.
“Uh, was I?” I shook my head, redirecting my attention to her face.
She furrowed her brow at me over her shoulder. We’d been walking single file up the hill with her in front by several paces, her bottom at my eye level.
She was winded. I was not.
“What are you doing?” Her tone was laced with suspicion as she gathered deep, panting breaths. The sound and movement were distracting.
“Admiring the view,” I answered immediately because the words were true even if they were misleading.
Her lips flattened, though she was still breathing with difficulty, and she shifted her gaze to the emerging skyline around us. I kept mine fastened on her profile, allowing myself a moment to study the image before me.
Much of her hair had pulled free of her braid and was billowing around her shoulders. I must’ve done something remarkably good when I was younger, or something remarkably bad, because she was still in her yoga pants and tank top. A sliver of her toned belly and side were visible, as her shirt had lifted during the hike.
I wanted to bite her smooth skin. My teeth ached to sink into her flesh. Lick it. Grab it. However, experience told me women of her kind didn’t like large men biting, licking, or grabbing them. They liked soft, coaxing caresses, gentle words, and a soothing hand. They liked dark rooms where they could pretend I wasn’t quite the frightening giant I was in reality with all the lights on.
“We’re close to the summit.” Lucy shaded her eyes and looked at me, her chest rising and falling with gasping breaths. “How can you not be tired? This hill goes straight up.”
I shrugged. “I work out sometimes.”
She threw her head back and laughed, her open palm falling to her thigh with a smack.
I liked the sound. Without thinking too much about it, I tried to get her to do it again. “Not very often. Just once or twice a day.”
“Is that so?” Her lips curved, her smile glorious. “What kind of work outs do you do? Hill climbing?”
“Yes, mostly. I have a hill all my own in Ireland.”
“I bet you run to the top of it and yell, ‘I’m the king of the world!’”
“I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“It would frighten the sheep.” And enrage the ape.
“Oh, you have sheep on your hill?”
Now we were walking side by side. I reached out to help her over a steep spot.
“Yes. The hill is full of sheep, but they’re not my sheep.”
“You don’t like sheep?”
“I prefer dogs.”
Lucy stumbled. I caught her before she slipped, bringing her against my side. “Careful, the rocks are loose here.”
“Got it.” She nodded and set me gently away, reaching for a tree branch to steady her. “So you like dogs?”
“I do, as a matter of fact.” I figured there was no harm in discussing my domestic animal preferences. Many people liked dogs. “What’s the name of the charity you work with?”
Her eyes darted to mine, then away. “It’s not that big of a deal. I don’t know why Rick even brought it up.”
“What kind of work do they do?”
“It’s the Animal Haven Shelter, a no-kill shelter for abandoned animals in New York City. Annie lets me highlight it on the blog and we do a fundraiser. I volunteer sometimes. Like I said, no big deal. So . . .” I heard her sigh, the sound telling me this topic made her uncomfortable. “Look. We’re here.”
Lucy jogged a few paces ahead and away from me, slowing her steps as she crested the hill. I caught up quickly, but my steps faltered when I reached the top, the full view finally coming into focus.
“Yes. But she decided to skip the missionary position and instead focus on charity work in the States. With dogs.”
“With dogs?” This news struck a chord and my eyes moved over Lucy with new, albeit unwilling, appreciation. I’d had a dog when I was younger. Rather, the family had a dog, though I’d considered him only mine. A pet was everything to an unloved child. I’d mourned his passing alone. At the time it had felt like losing a limb. Or maybe an organ.
As I studied her I supposed it made sense that she was an animal lover. She seemed like that sort, empathetic and compassionate. I felt a niggling thread of guilt and quickly quashed it.
“Yes,” he continued, still looking at Lucy, “the position with dogs—”
“Okay, we have to go.” Her usually soft voice was shrill as she grabbed my hand and tugged me away from her friend. “That mountain isn’t going to hike itself.”
I allowed myself to be led, but made her pause so I could collect the basket. She pulled her hand out of mine. I noticed her gaze flicker to Broderick then away to the planks of the porch.
Frowning at her averted gaze, I glanced at Broderick. He watched us with a slight smirk. When I caught his eye his smirk widened into an odd smile, odd, because it was encouraging.
I tried to return it.
I couldn’t.
So I turned away.
As we walked off the porch, side by side but not touching, I resolved to follow through with my plan as soon as possible. I already wanted Lucy. Nothing would be more disastrous than actually liking her too.
***
“You’re being quiet. Why are you being so quiet?”
Because I’m watching your glorious arse as you climb the hill and lamenting that I’ll only be allowed to grab it once. If I’m lucky.
“Uh, was I?” I shook my head, redirecting my attention to her face.
She furrowed her brow at me over her shoulder. We’d been walking single file up the hill with her in front by several paces, her bottom at my eye level.
She was winded. I was not.
“What are you doing?” Her tone was laced with suspicion as she gathered deep, panting breaths. The sound and movement were distracting.
“Admiring the view,” I answered immediately because the words were true even if they were misleading.
Her lips flattened, though she was still breathing with difficulty, and she shifted her gaze to the emerging skyline around us. I kept mine fastened on her profile, allowing myself a moment to study the image before me.
Much of her hair had pulled free of her braid and was billowing around her shoulders. I must’ve done something remarkably good when I was younger, or something remarkably bad, because she was still in her yoga pants and tank top. A sliver of her toned belly and side were visible, as her shirt had lifted during the hike.
I wanted to bite her smooth skin. My teeth ached to sink into her flesh. Lick it. Grab it. However, experience told me women of her kind didn’t like large men biting, licking, or grabbing them. They liked soft, coaxing caresses, gentle words, and a soothing hand. They liked dark rooms where they could pretend I wasn’t quite the frightening giant I was in reality with all the lights on.
“We’re close to the summit.” Lucy shaded her eyes and looked at me, her chest rising and falling with gasping breaths. “How can you not be tired? This hill goes straight up.”
I shrugged. “I work out sometimes.”
She threw her head back and laughed, her open palm falling to her thigh with a smack.
I liked the sound. Without thinking too much about it, I tried to get her to do it again. “Not very often. Just once or twice a day.”
“Is that so?” Her lips curved, her smile glorious. “What kind of work outs do you do? Hill climbing?”
“Yes, mostly. I have a hill all my own in Ireland.”
“I bet you run to the top of it and yell, ‘I’m the king of the world!’”
“I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“It would frighten the sheep.” And enrage the ape.
“Oh, you have sheep on your hill?”
Now we were walking side by side. I reached out to help her over a steep spot.
“Yes. The hill is full of sheep, but they’re not my sheep.”
“You don’t like sheep?”
“I prefer dogs.”
Lucy stumbled. I caught her before she slipped, bringing her against my side. “Careful, the rocks are loose here.”
“Got it.” She nodded and set me gently away, reaching for a tree branch to steady her. “So you like dogs?”
“I do, as a matter of fact.” I figured there was no harm in discussing my domestic animal preferences. Many people liked dogs. “What’s the name of the charity you work with?”
Her eyes darted to mine, then away. “It’s not that big of a deal. I don’t know why Rick even brought it up.”
“What kind of work do they do?”
“It’s the Animal Haven Shelter, a no-kill shelter for abandoned animals in New York City. Annie lets me highlight it on the blog and we do a fundraiser. I volunteer sometimes. Like I said, no big deal. So . . .” I heard her sigh, the sound telling me this topic made her uncomfortable. “Look. We’re here.”
Lucy jogged a few paces ahead and away from me, slowing her steps as she crested the hill. I caught up quickly, but my steps faltered when I reached the top, the full view finally coming into focus.
