Alice came in with more juice and a roll of paper towels. “I brought these out in case we have any more accidents. Heaven knows I’m as likely as you are, Marcus, to bump something over.” She sat down and leaned near to him. “When Cash was getting house-trained, I had to carry paper towels with me everywhere. I don’t think there’s a single spot in this apartment that hasn’t been sprinkled.” She grinned as if it amused her to have a dog leaking everywhere.
Marcus watched her with fascination—much as Rowdy had often done.
They ate all the cookies and drank all the juice. Marcus finally loosened up enough that they connected the tracks. Rowdy gave Alice a purple car—a little convertible with a hood that opened. Marcus had his red and green cars. Rowdy had a white truck.
They played for a half an hour until Alice said, “I hate to break up this fun party, but Rowdy needs to be getting to work.”
Rowdy groaned. “I wish I could stay and eat more delicious cookies. You’re both good cooks.”
Marcus grinned, and it so stunned Rowdy that he nearly lost it. Damn, but his eyes burned. “I had fun, Marcus.”
“Me, too.”
“So what color car should I get next?”
Given the way Marcus hesitated, how he chewed his lip and rubbed that forearm under his nose again, he didn’t trust the offer.
“Any color you want,” Rowdy promised. “How about a black sports car? Or maybe a purple convertible like Alice’s.”
“My car is very sweet,” Alice said, and she took it on another spin along the two lengths of track.
Finally, peeking up at Rowdy with gut-wrenching hope, Marcus said, “Your white truck is neat.”
Optimism sent his blood pumping. “Awesome, little dude. We have the same great taste!” Rowdy lifted the truck. “I’ll pick up another one for you, but until then, how about you hold on to mine for me?” To ensure Marcus couldn’t refuse, Rowdy set it on the floor and rolled it toward Marcus, then came to his feet.
As usual, he took a minute to say goodbye to Cash, then, cautiously, he went to Marcus. “I’ll be back, okay?”
Marcus looked at his feet, but he nodded.
Rowdy knelt down. “I had fun. Thank you.”
“You’re not mad anymore?”
“I was never that mad, remember? But even if something did happen to make me mad, even if it made me furious, it wouldn’t make me mean. Not like you’re thinking. Never to you. Okay?”
“So you’re not mad anymore?”
Aware of Alice standing there, Rowdy laughed at himself. He ruffled Marcus’s hair, and he didn’t even care that Marcus went typically still. “No, I’m not mad anymore.” He stretched back to his full height.
Putting her arms around his neck, Alice went on tiptoe to hug him. She said low, “Please don’t do anything dumb, Rowdy.”
What the hell? He caught her shoulders to pry her away. “No, I won’t.”
“Baloney.” She turned him loose, then put a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “Something happened between you and Avery, but she’s a very nice woman.” She said in an aside to Marcus, “Avery is his girlfriend.”
Boyfriend, girlfriend, where did people get off using those namby-pamby terms for good old sizzling lust?
“And,” she said to Rowdy again, “whether you admit it to yourself or not, you care about her. I see it. I know it. So I say again, please don’t do anything dumb. I don’t want you to have regrets.”
“Yes, dear.” He kissed her forehead, and then, without really giving it much thought, bent and put a kiss to the top of Marcus’s head, too. With Cash thumping his tail, he laughed and kissed him, too—and that made Marcus chuckle.
Eventually, Rowdy thought, Marcus would recover.
But if that was true, why hadn’t he?
* * *
AVERY WASN’T SURPRISED when Rowdy started the workday by ignoring her. As her boss, she figured eventually he’d have to talk to her, and then she’d have an opportunity to break the ice.
But as the day wore on, he managed to avoid her altogether. He delegated many of his usual responsibilities, including filling in for her, to Cannon. Not even once did he approach her himself.
To make things worse, he flirted. Boldly.
When one blonde came to talk to him, standing far too close, Rowdy stared at her boobs until she was giggling.
When later a brunette asked him to dance, he actually took a few minutes to hold her on the dance floor, swaying in time to a slow song, pelvises aligned.
That had every other lady lined up for a turn. But Rowdy laughed it off and got back to work.
The jerk.
Avery was stewing, both furious and jealous, when a familiar redhead came in.
The memory of Rowdy in his office with that woman, what she’d witnessed them doing, sucked all the air out of her lungs until she couldn’t breathe.
A customer said, “Another beer, honey,” but Avery ignored him.
The woman went up to Rowdy, hugging him from behind, slipping one hand into the neckline of his shirt, the other far too close to the fly of his jeans. He looked startled, wincing in discomfort at how tightly she grabbed him.
But when he turned and saw it was her, he didn’t excuse himself.
He looked up and met Avery’s gaze.
It felt like an eternity that they stared at each other until finally Rowdy pulled his gaze away to address the woman.
“Hey, another beer.”