Grayson's Vow (52)

“Because she’s a woman. That’s how I know that.”

I considered her words. If we enjoyed each other’s bodies, would Kira really want more? She barely seemed to like me half the time. No, Charlotte was wrong about that. I did know for sure that Kira liked my touch however. Thinking back now, that constant hum of sexual awareness had been there from the very beginning. It had been present the first time my skin touched hers. I just hadn’t acknowledged it because I’d been too busy judging her, resenting her, and then being driven to distraction by her outlandish behavior. But I wasn’t denying it anymore. I didn’t think there was any reason we couldn’t keep things on a physical level. For my part, I knew I could enjoy her body without falling for her. I would. I was finished denying myself where it came to the mostly exasperating but highly desirable little witch. Now I’d just have to convince her too.

The protectiveness I’d felt toward Kira when I’d found her sick and feverish in her bed had worried me for the first couple hours I’d cared for her. But then, before I’d had time to fully consider it, Charlotte’s herbs kicked in, and it had just been all I could do to survive my own body, the effort at self-control making me too exhausted to think. Perhaps in some strange way, the distraction—awful though it’d been—had been partially positive. And maybe the initial concern over Kira’s well-being was nothing more than a natural male reaction to want to protect your own wife—even one of nothing more than convenience. How would I know? I’d never had a wife before. Eventually, I expected that would go by the wayside. Just like our marriage.

“Speaking of Kira,” I said, “where is the little troublemaker?”

“I don’t know. She went tearing out of here several hours ago.”

I raised a brow, wondering what had been so important. Before I had the time to ask the question aloud, I heard a vehicle in the driveway. And then a few moments after that, Kira’s voice rang out, “Hello?”

“In here, dear,” Charlotte called.

I looked over my shoulder as Kira walked hurriedly into the kitchen, setting a large box on the floor with holes in the top. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the large container.

“A surprise,” she said, grinning.

I groaned. What on earth had she come up with now?

“But first,” she said, sitting down on the stool next to me, “we’re officially married. I brought the marriage license to Mr. Hartmann. Our check will be processed and cut later today. We can pick it up first thing in the morning.”

Excitement shot through my body. “Really?”

“Really.” She grinned.

I couldn’t help myself. I stood and picked her up in a hug, spinning her around as she laughed. “We did it,” I said almost unbelievingly, coming to a standstill and setting her on her feet. She smiled up at me, her eyes shining, her smile bright. And I earned the dimple.

“I know,” she breathed. God, I wanted to kiss her. And the intensity of that want was such that I had to wonder if it was natural or if Charlotte’s herbs were still running rampant through my system.

The soft sound of something scraping from inside the box still on the floor behind us interrupted that thought. Kira’s grin increased, that bewitching dimple popping out again, as she stepped away from me and moved quickly to whatever was in the box.

“What have you done?” I asked.

She squatted on the floor, opened the box, and lifted out what looked to be a large puppy or a small dog. Soulful dark eyes stared at me warily and bright green ones regarded me excitedly.

“Oh my,” Charlotte gasped, hurrying over to Kira. “And who is this?” Charlotte lifted the metal tag at the dog’s neck and read: “Sugar Pie?”

Kira nodded proudly.

I gave my head a small shake as I took stock of the dog. “What’s…going on with its face?” It looked as if its nose and jaw had been mangled in some way.

Kira pulled the thing, what I could now tell was an older puppy, some kind of mutt, into her chest and covered its ear with her other hand. “Shh,” she said. “She can hear you, you know.” She gave me a contemptuous frown. “And Sugar Pie is a she.” She beamed down at the puppy who looked up at her with what looked like barely contained hope. “Aren’t you, baby girl? Aren’t you, sweet Sugar Pie? Yes you are, you’re a girl, a good girl. Such a good girl. A sweet, good girl.” I grimaced at the sound of the high-pitched baby talk. But apparently the puppy didn’t mind it one little bit.

The dog, trembling in an obvious attempt to hold back her rapture at Kira’s attentions, licked her face with that strangely deformed mouth. Kira laughed and then covered the puppy’s ear again. “I rescued her. Her first owner muzzled her when she was barely weaned. And then he didn’t take it off as her face grew. When she was found, she was almost dead and had to have the contraption surgically removed!” Her voice had risen as she spoke, clearly deeply distressed about what had happened to the dog. It was sad. Humans could be really fucking shitty sometimes. But I wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with me.

Kira took her hand off the dog’s ear and resumed babbling to it in baby talk for a few deeply painful moments.

Charlotte, who was clicking and cooing like a grandma meeting her grandbaby for the first time, scratched the puppy’s ears. “Oh, the poor little dear. You don’t worry about a thing, Sugar Pie. You’re going to fit in just fine around here.” In her obvious excitement, the puppy let out a small squeak and then lowered her head as if expecting dire consequences as a result of the small, escaped noise. She looked at us, her eyes raised dismally, her head still lowered.