"And then I lost my job yesterday, and I hit you with my car and said I'd take care of you. So, I didn't get a chance to sort anything. But I will."
"You made yourself homeless for a goat."
She frowns. "She's not just a goat, Gabriel. I told you, she's my family."
I don't know if I should admire her loyalty or have her committed for making herself homeless for a goat.
"Where are you planning on sleeping tonight?"
She shifts on her feet, clearly uncomfortable at my question. "Well, my friend Logan said I could crash on his couch until I got myself sorted, but he's not allowed to have pets at his place either, and I don't want to get him into any trouble with his landlord."
"You didn't answer my question, Speedy. Where are you staying tonight?"
She bites her lip, nervously twisting her hands in front of her. "Well, if I can't get a hotel room, I guess we'll be sleeping in my car."
"Where's all your stuff?"
"Why?"
"Answer the damn question."
"Most of it is in storage, and my clothes, shoes, and toiletries along with Gucci's things are in my car."
The goat has things. Of course it does.
"Go get your stuff from your car."
"Why?"
"Because you're staying here until you get things figured out. Oh, and I'm paying you to take care of me until my foot is healed. So, consider yourself hired."
"Gabe … you don't have to do that."
"I might be an asshole, but I won't see you homeless. And I would've been paying for a Big Bertha, so what's the difference? You can take the guest room."
"And what about Gucci? I appreciate the offer, Gabe-really, I do-but we're a package deal."
"The goat can sleep in the utility room. If she wrecks anything, it comes out of your wages."
"She won't wreck anything, I swear. She's a good girl. Aren't you, Gucci?"
The fucking goat looks up at her with adoring eyes.
"Are you sure your building will be okay with it? I don't want to get you in trouble."
"I own this apartment, so I can do what I fucking want in it. And pets are allowed. Well, dogs and cats. Not so sure about goats. But, if they have a problem with it, they can fuck off."
"Thank you so much, Gabe." She rushes over and flings her arms around my neck, nearly knocking me off the stool.
But, man, does she feel so sweet in my arms with her tits pressed up against my chest, the scent of her perfume in my nose.
My cock starts to swell with want.
Well, he can want as much as he likes, but Speedy is now officially off my radar. I don't shit where I eat.
Never fuck anyone who works for me or with me.
I know people think I screw every actress I work with, but it's just not true. And, trust me, it's hard not to screw them at the time. Of course, once I'm done working with them, all bets are off. But I have that rule for a reason. I was once told never to mix business with pleasure; it's too messy. It's the best piece of advice I've ever been given.
Because I don't do messy.
No matter how gorgeous or how much I want inside that someone, I never break my rule.
I feel something nudge my leg. And then again.
I lean back from Speedy and look down. The goat is head-butting my good leg.
This little fucker has some spunk.
I start to laugh.
Speedy steps back, giving me a puzzled look.
"I don't think your goat likes me."
I point down, and Speedy's eyes follow my finger.
Her mouth pops open into an O.
"Gucci! No! Stop that!" She bends down and picks the goat up. "I'm so sorry, Gabe. She's never done anything like that before. Did she hurt you?"
"No." I chuckle.
"She had her horn removed as a baby. It's not as barbaric as it sounds. It's called disbudded. It's not cruel. Did you know that goats with horns can actually kill each other when they fight? And, if kept as pets, like Gucci is, she could hurt me without meaning to."
"Fascinating."
I'm staring at her. Her eyes are red and glazed, her lips puffy, from crying before.
The urge to kiss her is maddening.
I need a subject change and fast. "Ground rules for the goat." I jab a finger in its direction. "No pissing or shitting in the apartment."
"Oh, she won't. She's really good."
"If she needs to go, take her out on the terrace and clean up after, or there's the building's communal garden downstairs."
"Okay. Thank you again, Gabe. We both really appreciate what you're doing for us. And we won't be any bother. You won't even know we're here, I promise."
I highly doubt that.
Knowing that Speedy's here and that she'll be sleeping a wall away from me is going to make this not-fucking-her thing so much harder.
"I need a drink," I mutter. I start moving away from her, heading for the drinks cabinet.
She's instantly at my side, the damn goat still in her arms. "I'll get it for you. You go sit down in the living room. What do you want?"
I hate that these crutches slow me down so much. It makes escaping near on impossible.
"Whiskey. Neat."
She stops and puts the goat down on the floor. "Don't you think it's a little early to be drinking?"
I keep moving. "It's five o'clock somewhere."
"But you're here, and it's ten a.m."
I stop and sigh. "I like a drink every now and then, Speedy. And, right now, I'm in pain, and I could do with taking the edge off it. If you've got a problem with it-"
"I haven't," she cuts me off.
I don't even know what I was going to say at the end of that sentence. It's not like I'd kick her out for having an issue with the fact that I want a drink.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be a bitch. You're right; it's your business. I'll grab that drink for you."
She's backtracking. She's not being herself. Speedy of half an hour ago would have called me a jerk and told me to stick it. But she's in a different position now. She feels vulnerable, and she can't be herself.
I don't like it.
"Speedy." I catch her wrist as she moves past me. "I'm a grouchy asshole most of the time, and apparently, I'm worse when I've got a few broken bones. You don't have to worry that I'll kick you out for voicing your opinion. Oddly, that's one of the things I like about you-when you bitch back at me even if it does drive me nuts ninety-nine percent of the time. So, just don't stop being you because I'm being an asshole. Tell me to shut the fuck up. Okay?"
A smile edges her lips. "You like me," she says in a singsong voice.
"Oh, for fuck's sake."
"Gabriel Evans likes me!" she sings, throwing her arms in the air.
And the damn goat starts jumping around her feet.
"Did you hear that, Gucci? He likes me!"
"You're so fucking odd," I say. But I'm smiling.
She stops singing and grins. "And you're an asshole."
I laugh, shaking my head, and I start moving toward the living room.
"Gabe?"
"Yeah?"
"I like you, too."
That makes me pause, and something weird happens in my chest, spreading all throughout my body. A tingling sensation.
Maybe I'm having a heart attack. The drinks and smokes have finally caught up to me.
"Now, go sit your grumpy ass down, and I'll bring you that drink."
She walks past me, but it takes me a long moment before I start moving again.
Gabe
Speedy brought her stuff up from her car, and it required two trips. God knows how she got so much stuff in that miniature car of hers. The alpha male in me was frustrated at not being able to bring her stuff up for her. Then, she disappeared off to the store. You know, 'cause, apparently, we needed more food even though the last trip she'd made could have fed an entire African village, but she didn't have the ingredients she needed for tonight's dinner.
That meant, I was left alone with the goat.
I shut it in the utility room, but all it did was make noise, so I let it out.
I swear to God, the moment I opened the utility room door, she gave me a dirty look, head-butted my good leg, and then proceeded to run around the apartment like a lunatic, looking for Speedy.
It was actually pretty funny. That goat is as crazy as Speedy is.
When the goat realized that she wasn't here, she came down into the living room where I was sitting, watching hockey on TV and enjoying a whiskey and a smoke-without any grief from Speedy-and she plopped herself down onto the rug. She hasn't moved since.
I look over at the goat, who seems to be fast asleep.
She's cute, I guess, for a goat.
But I mean, who the fuck gets a goat for a pet? And calls it Gucci?
Speedy-that's who.
"Honey, I'm home!" Her tinkling voice and laughter ring through the apartment.
It's like I just magicked her back by thinking of her.
I'm surprised at how my body reacts to knowing she's back. My cock twitches, my pulse picks up, and I start to feel warmer.
Gucci the goat hops up from her spot on the rug and starts jumping around. Then, she bolts across the room. I put my cigarette out in the ashtray and finish off my drink.