Frost Security(15)

Knowing he was close by like this, though, did make me feel better, my jokes about security blankets aside. There was just something about him that I liked. I'd never been much for his type of guy, always preferring more of the artist types who preferred to curl up with a good book or go to an art museum, rather than hit the gym. But there was something about those strong arms of his, and the way his chest had felt as I cried into it.

“Ugh, what are you doing, Jess?” I chided myself in the rear view as I reached the halfway marker to my house. “He's your security guy. Don't go all Whitney Houston here. Get those thoughts right out of your head, and do it fast. Remember, he's just watching out for you because you're paying him to. Nothing more. Got it?”

I sighed, looking back to the road. “Got it, Jess. I got it.”

A few minutes later, I pulled into my driveway and waited. I could hear my dogs Eli and Wallach going crazy inside. Both barked loud as they could, desperate to get outside and relieve themselves. I hated having to wait out here with them just inside like this, but Richard had told me to wait for my safety.

Conifer trees dotted the property the cabin was built on, giving it a picture perfect look. The place I rented was small, only two bedrooms, but I much more preferred the term cozy. That was how it felt during the winter, at least, when the snow was really blowing in. It was more than enough space for me and my two boys. Plus, it backed up to a little stretch of creek and some flatter, rocky grasslands where I could take them to go run each morning. I mean, sure, I wanted a family some day. But who, pray tell, was I supposed to make one with?

So, I sat there for a good minute, waiting for Richard to arrive. But then Eli started his howling, and I caved. He just sounded so lonesome in there, even with his brother Wallach right next to him. And then, of course, they both began crooning together, and that was too much for me to handle.

I was weak.

I climbed out of my car, purse in hand, and headed up the driveway. Let's just hope there wasn't some serial killer, or rapist, or general psycho waiting around the corner for me.

Much to the delight of my boys, I marched up the little walkway to the front door, keys jingling in my hand. Eli bellowed at me in his big hound voice, while Wallach yelped next to him as they both paced back and forth in front of the door. “Hold your horses, guys!” I groaned as they got louder.

Deadbolt flipped back, I threw open the door and marched into the house. Eli, a big hound mutt with traces of blood hound and God only knows what else, bellowed again, nearly rattling the windows with his deep bass. Beside him, Wallach, my corgi mix, ran in circles, yapping and howling in excitement.

“Come on, guys!” I shouted excitedly, ushering them to the back door that led onto the small deck, which had to the the trees behind the cabin. “Come on, let's go out!”

They went along gamely, jumping up and down and pouncing, as I got them to the backdoor. I threw it open and let them rush outside. At night, I'd never have let them run like this. There was way too much wildlife in the area for them to be safe. Bobcats, lynx, coyotes, bears, and more. During the day, though, I wasn't too worried about them running into something like that, so I generally let them out to clear some of their pent up energies.

As I shut the back door on them, I heard a knock on the front door. A loud one, insistent. “Jessica!” called Richard.

Shit. Busted. I winced as I practically ran across my small living room to let him in. “Coming! I'm alive, don't worry!”

I flipped back the deadbolt and threw the door open.

There he was, standing over me, glowering. “Thought I told you to wait in the car?”

I sighed as I stood aside, gesturing for him to come in. “Sorry, I know I wasn't supposed to. But my dogs got all excited when they heard me pull up, so I decided to let them out. I figured, you know, if there was anyone inside, they wouldn't have been howling like that.”

He just sighed as he stopped in the living room, looking around. “Wow,” he said, the anger seeming to fade from his voice in some sort of weird moment of surprise. “Just. Wow.”

“Wow what?”

“You have got a shit ton of turtles, don't you?”

Know how you can look at the same thing over and over again, whether it's a person or a piece of furniture or a piece of art, and you never seem to notice the changes because they happen incrementally? Sometimes over the course of years? I felt that exact same way as I blinked and looked around my little cabin, at the little turtle figurines on the side table, the sea turtle paintings on the living room walls, the turtle coffee cups hanging by the coffee pot, the small statue of a mock turtle from Alice in Wonderland in the corner, the turtle blanket tossed over the back of one of my two couches. And, believe me, the list of turtle memorabilia went on.