Page 12 of Happily Evan After (Dog Tags #5)

chapter

twelve

Marley

I came straight home after Shelby’s, stopping only once to pick up a burger to go from Ace’s Bar and Grill. I’ve never really been one for hamburgers, but these are ridiculously tasty, and I guess the baby needed some meat.

I’d devoured that and taken a shower and crawled into my bed, e-reader in hand, ready to disappear into the historical romance I’d been reading.

All three cats had been piled on the bed with me.

Even Ambrosia, my bitchy long-haired calico.

She’d never been one for snuggling, but ever since I got pregnant, she joins the boys, Basil and Badger, on the bed.

Though she tends to stay down at my feet, whereas my sweet boys are closer to my head.

My phone had pinged. And pinged again. And then three more times. It was already plugged into the charger, and normally I had a no phone in my bed rule, but given the events of the day, I pick it up.

EVAN: Marley.

EVAN: It feels amazing to know your actual name now.

EVAN: Though you’ll always be Dimples to me.

EVAN: You have no idea how happy I am that we’ve found each other again.

EVAN: Feels very serendipitous.

I’m smiling.

That’s annoying that five simple text messages from that man can make me smile so big that my cheeks hurt. He’s so charming and—romantic. There’s no other way to describe him. It felt that way in the lake house that night, but I’d chalked it up to just the whole spontaneity of the evening.

EVAN: Will you tell me more about the pregnancy? How you’ve been feeling?

EVAN: Are you taking enough folic acid?

EVAN: I really wish I’d been here from the beginning. When you first found out.

ME: Hi.

Wow, am I lame or what?

Hi, I’m Marley. I have no social skills. Even when texting.

Ridiculous.

EVAN: You’re there.

ME: I’m here.

ME: I’m taking a prenatal vitamin my doctor prescribed me.

ME: Since I’m considered geriatric for pregnancy, they’re watching me closely.

EVAN: Geriatric? That’s ridiculous.

ME: Anyone woman over 35 is considered to be in that category.

EVAN: You’re not geriatric. But I’m glad you’re getting good prenatal care.

EVAN: Can I come with you to the next doctor’s appointment?

ME: Sure.

We’d gone back and forth like that for over an hour. Talking about nothing and the pregnancy. I ignored all his flirtatious comments and tried not to like him more than I already did before he popped back up in my life. That seems like a futile battle.

After we’d concluded our texting conversation, my body had been so alert, so on edge, that I’d had to pull out my favorite toy to relieve some tension.

We hadn’t discussed anything sexy, but just he was out there, in the same town as me.

And imagining the sound of his deep voice, edged with that Texas twang had me all kinds of riled up.

The cats had deserted me when I’d turned on the vibrator, but they’d come back eventually. It had made me wonder if Evan liked cats. He’d told me that first night that he loved animals, but there were a lot of animal lovers out there who put cats in the same category as spiders.

Now, the following morning, I stare, bleary-eyed, out my front window at my pretty little fenced-in yard.

That white-picket fence that borders my yard and all the pretty little window boxes are what sold this house for me.

At the time, I’d had delusions of grandeur about my ability to nurture plants.

I’m good with animals, so it seemed logical I’d be good with plants.

The reality is, not so much. Thankfully, I’ve got several crepe myrtles that flourish in the hot, dry Texas summer.

So their pretty and brightly colored blooms are hopefully hiding the fact that I killed everything else in the yard.

I take another slow sip of my coffee—half caffeine, half decaf—because I’m trying to be good for baby girl’s sake.

I had a rough night sleeping and feel as if I’m barely functioning this morning.

Thankfully, it’s my day off, so I can move as slowly as I want to.

Maybe I won’t even change out of my pajamas.

Something catches my eye on the left side of my yard. There’s a truck parked along the street across from my house. I’ve never officially met that neighbor, but I’ve heard they hate it when people park in front of their house.

If it wasn’t a thousand degrees outside, I’d go sit on my front porch just to watch that little old lady scold whoever was foolish enough to park on their street. I snicker to myself, then frown when I see the driver get out.

“What is he doing here?” I mutter.

Basil is the one that chirps a response. My pretty Siamese has always been the talker of my crew. Ambrosia is much more comfortable glaring from whatever perch she’s balanced herself on. And Badger, well, he’s an orange tabby with all the lunacy that comes with orange cats.

I blow out a breath, then set my coffee down and walk outside. I suppose it would be only right if I warned my baby’s daddy that he shouldn’t park in front of that particular neighbor’s house.

But when I step out on my porch, I get the full view of my yard, which now includes a blue pop-up tent.

“What in the actual fuck?”

“Oh good, you’re awake,” he says, walking towards me.

He’s got one of those cup carriers in one hand, holding four to-go drinks, and has a bright pink bag in his other hand.

I recognize immediately that the drinks are from The Coffee Cup, and that pink bag is definitely from Sugar Bakers, the local bakery.

It never occurred to me that my white picket fence isn’t very tall until I see Evan and his sexy, long legs merely step over the wood slats to get into my yard.

“What is that?” I ask, pointing at the tent.

His head tilts, and he gives me that boyish smile of his. “That’s a tent, Dimples. What part of the northeast did you come from that they don’t have tents?”

I glare at him. “Not what I meant. Why is it in my yard?”

“I have to sleep somewhere,” is his response. He’s closed the distance between us. “I brought breakfast.” He holds up the bag.

“You intend to bribe me with baked goods?”

“Not bribing, Dimples. Just sweetening you up a little.” He holds out the cardboard cup holder. “Now then, I got two different lattes, one with caffeine and one without. This one is an iced peach tea, and this one is an iced chai tea. What’s your poison, baby?”

“You didn’t answer my question about the tent. And you really need to move your truck. My neighbor over there gets cranky about people parking in front of her house.” I cross my arms over my chest, feeling rather smug about ruining his plans.

“Your neighbor, Mrs. Donnelly, is a sweet little thing, and once I explained the situation, she readily agreed to let me park there. I even sweetened the deal by offering to mow her yard.”

You ever have those moments where you kinda feel like smoke might be coming out of your ears? I’m just asking for a friend.

“What are you doing, Evan? You can’t just pitch a tent in my front yard.”

“Did you pick a drink? I’m partial to the peach tea myself.”

“Caffeine,” I say. “Hand it over. Evidently I’m going to need it today.” I take the coffee and go to sit on my porch.

“I could put the tent away if you’d let me move in with you,” he says.

“Are you insane? We don’t even know each other.” Even saying the words myself feels false. But I know that’s just hormones talking. My body knows him, and his nearness is clouding my judgment. “I’m going to need you to stand downwind from me,” I blurt.

“Is something on me making you nauseous? I didn’t put on cologne or anything. Maybe it’s my shampoo or deodorant.”

“No, you just smell really amazing, and it makes me want to do things I know I shouldn’t.”

That makes him smile, which in turn makes me wet. Awesome.

“So is that a no to me moving in?” he asks.

“Yes. No. It’s a no, yes, it’s a no. You cannot move in,” I say.

“Then the tent stays. You need time, and I respect that. I’m gonna give you time. But I’m also gonna be nearby in case you need anything because you can’t keep me from taking care of my girls.”

“I am not your girl, I am a woman.”

“Well then, I’m going to stay close to take care of my girl.” Somehow this grin is even sexier. “And my woman.”

Danger, Will Robinson! Abort mission. Run away! Do not look directly at the very handsome man.

I cannot let myself fall any more for him than I already have. He’s duty-bound to take care of me and the baby. So he’s not even in this for me. I need to remember that, lest I get my heart broken beyond repair.

“You’re ridiculous,” I say.

“Ridiculously happy I found you again.”

“You can’t camp here.”

“Dimples, I was an Army Ranger. I can camp anywhere.”

“No, you can’t camp here,” I point to my yard, “because I have an HOA.”

“Nah… I got that sorted out. As it turns out, Mrs. Donnelly is the president of the HOA, and she understood our delicate situation. She approved my staying here for the time being.”

Just then, the topic of conversation steps out onto her front porch and waves at us.

Just like that he’s in my life and winning over neighbors I haven’t even officially met yet.

“Ugh,” I groan. Then I turn to head back inside. I think for a moment, then turn around to face him. I grab the bakery bag and then disappear inside my house.

I cannot have that man. And it will do me no good to play house with him, pretending I can.

He’s too hot, young, and charming. He could literally have any woman. There’s no possible way he really wants me.