Page 13 of Maybe, Probably (Love Me, Maybe #1)

Chapter Eight

Xavier

I forgot tonight was Karaoke night…

I grimace as I hear the intro of The Bad Touch by the Bloodhound Gang start. I understand wanting to blow off some steam while belting out some good music, but there are certain songs that are tacky. This is one of those songs.

Don’t get me wrong, all I want to do is let off a bit of steam too. Today was absolutely ridiculous. We were completely booked to the brim today, but I still took on that extra emergency appointment. As soon as I heard that the dog had a run in with a porcupine, I couldn’t let the poor thing wait.

So, I ended up working through my lunch break instead to make sure that we didn’t fall behind.

To say that was a terrible idea is an understatement.

I may have gotten a little grumbly and short, and wasn’t my usual self.

When I’m at work, I’m my happiest. I love being able to help animals and make sure they’re healthy.

I get so committed that I skip meals when I shouldn’t.

Which leads me here.

I’m sitting at O’Shays, waiting on my double bacon cheeseburger and fries, and sipping on a whiskey on the rocks. As chaotic as the day was, I kept going back to the same moment of my day. The woman from the emergency appointment. She looks so familiar but I can’t place my finger on where.

Her emerald eyes captivated me and held me hostage like I was caught in a snare.

I wanted to continue to be trapped in them, but was interrupted when she hastily got up and proceeded to trip over her dog.

I watched as the movement tumbled her forward and I acted on instinct, catching her.

I wasn’t fast enough to prevent the graze of her hand over my cock, which twitched at the contact.

I helped her upright and immediately took my hands off her.

A feeling washed through me that I haven't felt in so long, and it made my head spin.

I could blame the lack of food as my reasoning for being so short with her, but it was more than that.

The zing I felt from a mere touch put me on edge, and it sent me back to the last time I felt like that.

And that threw me off more than the lack of lunch.

As soon as I got everything sorted out with her dog, I ran out of that room, letting my assistant take over.

I needed fresh air, I felt like my lungs were constricting.

Busting through the back door I walked toward the picnic table.

I put it out here for the staff, so they have a place to sit outside on the nice days we have so they aren't cooped up in the staff room to eat their meals or take their breaks.

Thankfully nobody is out here while I deal with my inner turmoil.

I don't have the time for this today, so I sit down at the picnic table, putting my head between my legs as I take a deep breath.

In for four, out for four. It's the only calming tactic that has ever worked for me, and I take solace in that as my heart rate begins to calm down.

I'm brought back to the now as my plate of food is placed in front of me. I nod my thanks to the server and dig in. I try to hold in the groan of approval with that first bite of the delicious cheesy goodness that is this burger. This is exactly what I needed. There is something so comforting about greasy food after a long day. Especially when having zero desire to cook my own meal. I’m no stranger to the kitchen, in fact, I actually like cooking.

I find it relaxing. Being able to follow a recipe, mixing in all the ingredients and creating something that's so good.

Once I was old enough, I started paying attention more to cooking.

Edith, my parents cook, took me under her wing when I was ten years old.

She used to catch me often peeking through the doors watching the kitchen.

I thought that was where all the magic happens.

The food was always good at home. Edith cooked the best meals, and she made something new once a month, just to spice things up.

After the thousandth time that she caught me watching, she finally told me to come in.

Grabbing a stool she placed it beside her, she waved me over.

“Come here boy, if you’re going to be peeking through that door while I’m cooking you might as well learn something. ”

It was probably one of my favorite memories from my childhood. And probably why I find cooking and food so comforting.

I wouldn’t necessarily say my parents were uninvolved in our lives.

My parents did support me through all my endeavors when it came to sports and school events.

They were always there, but there was an appearance to uphold when it came to these social events.

My mother being the social elitist that she is, she always made sure she was involved in everything .

Spearheading everything that had to do with the PTA, taking the lead in organizing any social gatherings, fundraisers, you name it and she was running it.

She was the president of the PTA, after all.

But just because your parents appear to be involved in your life, it doesn’t necessarily mean they are there for you. I had to face many demons without them. Hell I’m still facing demons that they know absolutely nothing about because I stopped trying to confide in them a long time ago.

I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket, and I pull it out to see who it is. With a smile on my face, I accept the call.

“Monty, my guy. How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m not bad, just looking at this sad brute at the bar stuffing his face full of meat.”

I burst out laughing and turn around just in time to see my friend, Ben Montgomery, or Monty, making his way to my side. With a slap on my shoulders, he takes the stool next to me.

“What brings your ugly mug to a grungy old place like this?” I ask him, taking a sip of my drink.

Monty signals for the bartender, who comes up seconds later.

He orders his drink, then looks at me. “Well, I haven’t talked with you in a bit.

I just happened to be driving by when I saw your Ford in the parking lot, so I figured that I would pop in and surprise you.

Make sure you haven't been body snatched or some shit.”

I lift my hands at his statement. “Okay, okay, I get it. The clinic has just been super busy with the upcoming renovations for the spay and neuter clinic, and I’ve done nothing but eat, sleep and work.

” I run my hand through my hair, like I've been doing a lot lately. It’s getting a bit long.

I’ve been debating whether I should cut it or grow it out again.

I huff a sigh, dipping my gaze from his, briefly. I really haven’t been keeping in touch lately, now I feel like a dick. “I’m sorry I haven’t been reaching out in a bit. How are you doing? How about Josie and the rugrat?”

Monty smirks. “Oh, they’re the same as usual.

Josie is about six months pregnant now, and she’s starting to feel a bit uncomfortable.

Cries at the drop of a hat. The other night I came to bed and she was bawling.

I asked her what was the matter. She was crying because she couldn’t find her glasses.

And when I pointed that they were sitting on the top of her head, she cried even harder.

I tell you man, pregnancy hormones are wild.

” Shaking his head, “Shiloh isn’t much better. Giving us both a run for our money.”

I chuckle, “Is Shiloh still crawling in your bed at night?”

“Nah man, he’s finally sleeping in his own bed.

But now, he wakes up purely just to wake us up.

He isn’t even completely awake either. He wakes up, wakes Josie up, who then wakes me up.

I walk him back to bed and he crawls in, rolls over, and goes back to sleep.

” He shakes his head with a huff of disbelief, “Like what the fuck?”

He scratches his chin and then takes a drink of his beer. “I mean I’m thankful for the kid to be in his own bed, especially before the new baby is here. I can’t even imagine how it would be trying to get him in his own bed with a newborn.”

“Hopefully he doesn’t regress and wants back in once the baby is –” I don’t even get to finish my sentence before there is pain radiating in my shoulder from the punch Monty just gave me .

“Don’t jinx that shit man. Or I swear to fuck whenever you have kids I’m going to buy them the noisiest toys.”

Rubbing my shoulder, I grumble, “okay, man, shit.” We look at each other then start laughing.

We spend the next hour catching up on everything. I make a promise that we will try to get together once a week to shoot the shit, even if it means he helps me with some maintenance around the farm. If I have to chase Clyde out of my back porch one more time I’m going to lose it.

I forget what time it is, but I don’t forget that it’s still karaoke night.

The horrible singers have been making background noise as we have our conversation.

I think I’m about to call it a night when I hear a familiar tune come up on the machine.

While waiting for the person to start singing, I send a silent prayer that whoever it is doesn’t butcher one of my favorite songs.

My back straightens as I hear the first line of the song come out of the speakers.

I know that voice. It’s the voice I’ve been thinking about on repeat all day.