Junkyard Dog

“If I get sappy, my balls might fall off. I can’t chance it.”


“Ick. I can’t even imagine what kind of bullshit you’d put up with if you lost your cajones.”

I lean down and kiss her quickly. Candy doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t deepen the kiss either. The little faces at the window are likely why she doesn’t climb me.

“Tall Mickey’s has a good kid menu for your baggage.”

Candy shoots me a dirty look before walking back to the door. She disappears inside for a few minutes. I look at her neighbors who don’t look at me. Smiling at their fear, I think to ring the doorbell and get Candy’s ass in gear. I don’t, of course. She was sexy as hell when she pitied me enough to ditch her kids. I have no doubt if I said yes to her offer she’d hold a grudge.

Candy opens the door and hurries outside with the twins. They don’t look as nervous as she does. Their dark-eyed gazes study me, and they smile in unison. I don’t know much about kids, but that smiling trick is creepy.

“Thank you for talking to the school,” Chipper says.

“No problem. You've got to take what you want in life. No one will give you shit.”

Chipper and Cricket look at their mom and giggle. Feeling on the outside of an inside joke, I frown.

“What?”

Cricket grins at me. “Mom said you cuss a lot.”

I grunt at their amusement. As they follow me to the SUV at the curb, Candy whispers to the kids. They laugh again, and I glare at them over my shoulder.

“Hey, you have another car,” Candy says, staring at the Suburban.

“I own a used car lot, so I have plenty of other cars.”

“You can just take them?” she asks and then shakes her head. “Yeah, yeah, you can do whatever you want.”

I open the back door, and the kids climb inside. Candy smiles when I open the door for her.

“Manners,” she says, and I hear mockery in her voice.

“I’m trying.”

“Why?” she asks, frowning at me. “Don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. You can’t keep it up, and it’ll only prolong the inevitable.”

I study her beautiful face and smile at how open she is to me again.

“I’ve always had good manners when I wanted to. I’m not faking shit.”

“Good,” she says and climbs into the SUV.

The drive to the Tall Mickey’s is quiet. The kids whisper to each other while Candy bobs her head to Alan Jackson. She smiles at me and then back at the kids. Her mood is fucking glorious, and I order myself not to shit all over it.

I reserved a back circular booth at the restaurant. The kids sit between Candy and me as if to test my ability to handle baggage.

“Can I get ribs?” Chipper asks Candy.

“They have ribs on the kid menu?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure. Order whatever you want. My boss pays well,” Candy says, giving me a smile that hints at more than a friendly evening.

“I ate here when I was a kid,” I tell them once we’ve ordered. “My parents knew I had a big appetite, and this place serves a lot of food.”

“Do you have brothers and sisters?” Cricket asks.

“No.”

“Do you want them?”

“No.”

“I don’t like cousins,” she says. “They’re noisy.”

The three of them smile, and I feel like the odd man out again. Candy might sense my unease because she gently kicks me under the table. I hold her gaze while she grins at my frowning face.

“Why did you name your dog Nightmare?” she asks.

“Because the breeder described him as getting so big he’d be the thing of nightmares.”

“He’s not scary.”

“He is big,” Chipper admits. “Like a small horse.”

“Don’t even think about riding him,” I mutter.

Chipper rolls his eyes at me. “I know. I’m not a baby.”

His sister sits up on her knees and pushes away her brown hair. “I have no interest in riding a dog or a horse. Sitting on a live animal seems stupid.”

“A dead one is okay, huh?” I ask.

“Sure. It can’t fight back.”

I don’t know why, but I’m fucking nervous, and Cricket’s answer makes me laugh enough to break the tension.

We settle into a quiet dinner. The kids talk about school while sharing a side salad. I skip the lettuce crap, but Candy chows down on hers. I know she’ll order a big entrée plus dessert. The woman loves taking home leftovers.

“We’re getting a cat,” Chipper announces.

With her mouth full of BBQ pork, Cricket nods. “We bought the poop box and bowls. We just need a cat now.”

I look at Candy, who dramatically sighs. “We’re looking this weekend.”

“I don’t like cats.”

The twins shrug immediately. Candy only watches me. I know what she’s thinking. What’ll happen to the cat if we end up together?

“I’ll feed it to Nightmare,” is my answer.

Cricket laughs and looks at her brother. They whisper to each other and then return to eating.

“Which of our cards was better?” Chipper asks.