Owning My Choices
Somehow, I survive the night without climbing on Brad. Ruth helps by joining us to watch TV. My tension increases as the night approaches. By the time the dogs fly into a barking fit around ten, I'm too edgy to think of stripping off Brad's clothes and exploring all the muscles on this six-foot-four man.
I barely sleep all night. The dogs regularly bark, forcing me to check for movement on the property. Each time, I find nothing on the motion sensors. Either the dogs have a grudge against a squirrel or something undetectable is setting them off.
The next morning, I sleep an hour past my usual wake-up time of six. Body aching, I enjoy a long hot shower before stumbling into the kitchen for a cup of black coffee. Brad sits at the kitchen island, reading the paper.
Noticing me, he smiles in the most brilliant way, and I'm lost like never before. He tears away all of my barriers, leaving me exposed.
"Sorry about the dogs," he says, watching me until I want to hide my face from his view. "Did you figure out why they were barking so much?"
"Nothing human was lurking," I mutter, fighting a yawn.
"A ghost maybe."
We share a smile before I look away and focus on pouring coffee. Needing to make space between us, I drink the hot coffee as quickly as possible without burning my throat. Brad sets aside the newspaper and watches me again.
"Is Minka coming over today?"
I desperately fight the urge to frown, but my fatigue ensures I lose.
"Yes, we're going over the plans for your New York City trip."
"So you won't be leaving for the day?"
"No."
When a clearly relieved Brad smiles, I realize I was jealous of Minka. He is my weakness, and I refuse to share.
"Marx is coming over to train today," Brad says, standing up. "He's teaching me Judo."
He's waiting for me to show disdain for the idea of Marx knowing enough to train anyone. While I think this thought, I don't react.
My silence goes on while Brad opens the fridge and pushes objects around inside. He finally stands behind me and leans forward.
"We don't have much to eat today. Mom didn't want to leave a full fridge before a trip. Would you like cereal or a bagel?"
"What kind of cereal?"
Brad gives me a couple of options. When I can't decide, he fills two small bowls and gives them both to me. I breathe in his scent when he stands too closely.
"How about you come to my training session and see if Marx is teaching me good moves?"
I glance up at him standing behind me. "Sure. I might even teach you a few tricks."
Brad wants to kiss me. His gaze focuses only on my lips, seeking them in his mind before he moves. I wait for him to lean down and take what he desires.
The world refuses to allow us this moment. Hearing Ruth speak to the dogs as she walks down the hallway, Brad steps back from me. His gaze remains on my lips, though. I don't turn away until the very last moment before Ruth enters the kitchen.
Likely sensing the tension in the room, she says nothing about Brad's silence. Or ask why I have two bowls of cereal. She's only interested in the dogs barking half of the night.
Eating quickly, I need to work rather play lovesick girl. Brad sits across from me and returns to his paper. He barely glances up when I take my bowls to the dishwasher before hurrying from the kitchen. Despite claiming he has little experience with women, Brad knows I'm hooked.
The dogs follow me outside. Remaining agitated, they search for whatever pissed them off the night before. I notice the dogs don't sniff the ground, catching a scent. The German Shepherds follow me around the perimeter where I find nothing disturbed.
By the time Minka joins me in the backyard, the dogs are snoring in the grass.
"Someone's flying drones over the property at night," I say rather than offering a greeting.
"How do you know?"
"Something rattled the dogs all night. The motion sensors and cameras didn't pick up anything. Drones are the only other possibility I can think of."
"Makes sense. So who was spying?"
"Could be the press, the cult, or some loser looking for an interesting video to upload on You-Tube."
"It's illegal to shoot them down, so make sure you treat any downed drones like a body and get rid of the evidence."
Smiling at her comment, I ask, "Are you ready for the New York trip?"
"Yeah, sure. But more importantly, have you thrown yourself at Brad yet?"
"No."
"Why not?" she asks, sitting at the patio table. "What if you get shot in the vagina tomorrow? You don't want to live with regrets, babe."
Joining her at the table, I yawn. "I can't tell if you're being nice or mocking me."
"Why can't it be both?"
Rolling my eyes, I hate how easily she teases me. "What if I get distracted by the sexual activities and the cult breaks in and kills everyone?"
"In this scenario, are you dead? Because dead girls suffer no regrets."
"And if I live?"