Code name omega, p.18
Code Name: Omega, page 18
I’m adequately dressed in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, so I don’t hesitate to open the door.
I’m stunned to see Adriana there. She smiles, but then her eyes drop to Bubba and she pushes inside.
His tail wags furiously as she drops to her knees, giving him the baby talk he loves. Whatever our failures as a couple, she was good to Bubba, and he loves her.
“Oh, look at my big brown fur bear monster,” she coos as she wraps her arms around his neck for a hug, then rubs his ears. Bubba’s eyes practically roll into the back of his head with pleasure.
Still scratching my dog, Adriana tips her head to look at me. “Hello, Kellen.”
She’s a beautiful woman… all sunny-blond hair, golden, tanned skin, slamming body.
None of that matters because I’m immediately irritated that she’s here. That she would dare show up at my house unannounced and walk in like she—
Fuck… Abby.
My eyes dart to the kitchen, and I see Abby watching cautiously while still at the stove. She’s got a pair of tongs in hand, and I’m not sure if they’re to flip bacon or snap at Adriana.
By the look on her face, I’m thinking the latter.
I’ll quell that look in Abby’s eyes later, but for now, I turn my attention back to the interloper. “What are you doing here, Adriana?”
I use her name intentionally so Abby knows who she is. So she at least knows it’s not some random woman showing up at my house that could imply she’s a past or current hookup.
Adriana stands, reaches into her large purse, and pulls out a manila envelope. “I’ve got the contract papers for you. Perhaps we can have some coffee and go over them.”
Her head turns toward the kitchen, and she even takes a step that way before coming to an abrupt halt when she sees Abby standing there.
She snaps the tongs, and I can’t tell if it’s reflexively or a threat, but I have to fucking bite back a laugh.
“Who is that?” Adriana asks, her tone scathing and wholly inappropriate, given she’s intruded into my home.
My inclination is to take her by the arm and gently, but firmly, escort her right out the door.
Instead, Abby strides forward, utensil in hand. I tense, ready to step between the women if Abby decides to “tong” Adriana, but instead she holds out a hand. “I’m Abigail Blackburn. You’re obviously Adriana.”
Turning to me, Adriana snaps angrily, ignoring Abby’s offer of a handshake. “She knows who I am? Did you tell her about us?”
“Of course I know who you are,” Abby replies, and Adriana’s head whips back her way.
I sigh, knowing full well that I’m not going to get a word in at this point. I actually take a step back and cross my arms over my chest. Bubba sits beside me and watches.
Abby smiles sweetly. “You’re the woman who cheated on Kellen, causing him to break up with you and leave you in California. Lucky for me.”
“It was one drunken indiscretion,” Adriana snarls between clenched teeth. “And he wouldn’t even give me a chance to discuss it. Wouldn’t let me apologize. Just left me behind without a backward glance.”
Abby shrugs. “Like I said… lucky me.”
I duck my head and bite the inside of my cheek to hold off the smile.
Pointing toward the kitchen with her tongs, Abby says, “Would you like some breakfast?”
“Wait a minute.” It’s time for me to stop being so quiet. “You said we didn’t have enough bacon, Abby… remember?”
“Oh, she can have your share,” Abby says, giving me a sugary batting of eyelashes. “I’d just love to sit down with Adriana and update her on your life. I mean, I wouldn’t divulge too much… like how we just about broke your bed not half an hour ago. Imagine how embarrassing that would have been if she’d shown up uninvited then.”
Damn, that’s vicious.
And is it bad I love it?
“Nice,” Adriana snaps, turning her back on Abby to look at me. “You sure know how to pick ’em. Probably from some dive bar. Can we sit somewhere private to discuss this?”
One of the reasons I’m falling for Abby is her confidence. She doesn’t let the insult touch her. Instead, she shrugs again and heads back into the kitchen.
And Bubba’s loyalty is crystal clear when he follows Abby and lies down at her feet, watching me and Adriana.
I stare at my dog and my woman a good long while.
“Kellen,” Adriana says harshly, “can we talk?”
“No.” My gaze comes to hers, and I take her by the elbow as I’d originally considered. “You were not invited here, and we have nothing to talk about.”
I open the door and step onto the porch with her. Only then do I release my hold on her arm and pluck the envelope from her hand. “I’ll read this and get back to you.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry you traveled all this way, Adriana.” I take a moment to look through the open doorway. Abby’s ignoring us. I pull the door shut before turning back. “You didn’t come to talk about the papers. You came for another effort at reconciliation, and I need you to stop. It is never going to happen.”
“Because you can’t find it in your heart to forgive me.” Adriana pouts, and it’s not pretty.
“Because I’ve moved on, and I’m the lucky son of a bitch who has found someone I’m falling in love with. I’m moving forward with my life, and if you’re smart, you’ll do the same.”
“Did you ever love me?” Her eyes sizzle with anger.
I don’t want to hurt her, but I’m going to be truthful. “I’m not sure. Having what I have now, I’m just not sure.”
“You’re an asshole, Kellen McCord,” she hisses and snatches the envelope from me. “You can kiss this agreement goodbye. Sue me.”
She whirls on her heel and stomps to what I assume is a rental car parked in my driveway. I watch until she’s gone and then return inside.
When I shut the door, Abby gives me a sympathetic look. “Was it horrible?”
I shake my head. “Not for me.”
Abby smiles. “How many eggs do you want?”
And just like that, Adriana is forgotten. Abby isn’t nosy and demanding to know what was said. She doesn’t care if I defended her or held her up in esteem over my ex. She only wants to make sure I was okay, and she moved on.
She’s fucking incredible.
“Three,” I answer as I move toward her. She moves for the refrigerator, but I grab her arm, spin her into me, and kiss her hard.
When I pull back, she’s breathless. “What was that for?”
“Because you’re awesome.”
Her hand rests against my chest, and she rubs a thumb over my breastbone. “I think you’re awesome too.”
CHAPTER 20
Abby
For someone who was disdainful of coming to the flea market, Kellen acts like a damn kid in a candy store. He stops at practically every stall to check out the wares for sale.
“Look at these porcelain dolls,” he says, holding up one with a chip in the side of its face.
“Creepy.”
“It’s historical,” he says, setting it down gently and giving an apologetic smile to the woman behind the table.
“Hey… look at this,” Kellen says, grabbing my hand and pulling me along. “Lego. I used to love these when I was a kid.”
The vendor has boxes and boxes of Lego sets, some still in their cellophane wrap and others offered ridiculously cheap, but a handwritten sign warns there’s no guarantee all the pieces will be present.
Kellen picks up a sealed box that says Star Wars on it, and I can see it’s a spaceship. Displaying it for me to inspect, he says with genuine reverence, “The Millennium Falcon. And it’s only twenty bucks.”
Kellen thrusts the box at me as he digs for his wallet. He pulls out two tens, gives them to the seller, and beams at me. “Guess what we’re doing tonight?”
“Guess what you’re doing tonight?” I counter with a smirk.
Kellen takes the box from me and hands it to the seller who slides it into a handled paper bag. He then leans into me, his voice low and husky. Shivers dance up my spine. “Help me build the spaceship, and I’ll do that thing with my tongue and your—”
“Okay, fine.” I clap a hand over his mouth because he was loud enough to be heard. “I’ll help.”
He laughs and pulls me in for a rough kiss. “Come on. Let’s see what other treasures await.”
The massive flea market is held at the county fairgrounds the first Sunday of every month from April to October. I let Kellen poke around until I finally lead him to an area near the rear where the puppies are sold.
I have no clue which of these pups, if any, come from Hellman’s operation. I know he sells to pet stores, which is far more lucrative, so he might not even mess with this place.
But the puppies sold here come from the same manner of excessive breeding operations. While some breeders might have livable conditions for their animals, most don’t and repetitively force their females to birth litters until their poor bodies just wear out.
The pups are always unvaccinated, and because they live in filth, they have a host of gastrointestinal issues, eye infections, and skin rashes. Many are underfed, and because it’s a hot end-of-July day, some are dehydrated. These morons don’t even provide water for them.
I can’t berate these people for it, though. I want them to allow me to treat their animals, so I have to play nice. I’ve been doing this for so long, I’m actually almost expected to show up when the flea market opens.
The puppy peddlers set up under a huge corrugated metal shelter, and sometimes there are upward of twenty vendors selling dogs. They’re all billed as “purebred,” and maybe they are. Any buyer gets documentation for registration with the AKC, which is all people seem to care about when they’re shelling out five hundred dollars for a Yorkie with feces-matted hair and listless eyes.
“Jesus Christ,” Kellen mutters in disgust as we approach the structure.
Card tables sit adjacent to wire exercise pens filled with puppies clamoring for attention. The roof provides shade, and there is electrical hookup. Some of the sellers have fans blowing, not to cool the puppies but themselves.
With a quick count, I note only nine pens set up today. The first one we approach is a breeder of goldendoodles—not an AKC-recognized breed but a crossbreed so popular, they sell for more than most of the other dogs here.
This breeder has let me treat her pups before, but she doesn’t offer a warm welcome. “You bring medicine for the dogs?” she asks without preamble.
“I did,” I reply brightly and indicate to Kellen to hand me the large backpack he’s been carrying. He puts his bag with his Millennium Falcon on the ground and shrugs off the pack.
From inside, the first thing I do is pull out a pack of silicone travel bowls that flatten for easy storage. I hand one to Kellen and nod toward a water hookup. “Can you go fill this?”
Kellen looks to the pen of sweet goldendoodles who have their paws up on the edge trying to get my attention while a few wrestle in the dirt. His expression communicates that he’s stunned to see no water in with them, while the breeder sits in a folding chair with a large iced coffee in hand and a fan clipped to the edge of her chair to blow in her face.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here.” I pull out my medical kit and step up to the edge of the pen to take a look.
Six puppies, all with oozing eyes, but they look well fed. Their fur is dirty and they stink, which is typical.
Kellen returns with the water, and he bends over the pen to set it down. The puppies all go running for it, and he ends up holding it for them to drink out of so they don’t knock the bowl over in their rambunctiousness.
One by one, I snag puppies and lift them from the pen. I sit cross-legged on the ground to examine them. I squirt ointment into their gummy eyes and treat the few with fungal infections in between their paw pads.
When I’m done, Kellen and I move to the next setup and repeat the process. He makes sure all the puppies have water in their pens and fills the bowls over and over again while I provide medical attention. We work in silence, unless I have questions for the breeders to help me help the pups. Kellen won’t engage with them, and I can see his anger bubbling under the surface.
The last vendor has golden retriever puppies, and Kellen puts a hand to my lower back as we walk there, giving it a tiny rub. I know he’s thinking of Princess… same as me. These aren’t her puppies, but they probably came from a dog just like her.
I’ve seen a lot of dogs in my lifetime. On our farm, we always had them, as well as many barn cats. But nothing can really beat a golden retriever puppy for cuteness. I treat the ones that need it, and Kellen plays with the others, making himself at home inside the pen. While we’re there, a few people come by, but no one is buying. It’s still early, though. The market’s only been open for a few hours and the puppies are at the back. Anyone coming to buy a new pet will wait until it’s time to go.
When I finish with the last fur ball, I push up from the ground and dust off my pants. Kellen reluctantly sets down a rotund male he’s been cuddling and exits the pen.
I stretch my back, feeling a few joints crack.
“How do you feel about an impromptu barbecue at my house? I thought I’d invite some of the Jameson folks over.”
That’s random, but I’m not averse. “Yeah… sure. Maybe something easy like hamburgers and hot dogs. We can stop at the grocery on the way home.”
Kellen’s not even listening to me but has his phone out, sending a text. When he’s done, he lifts my backpack and slings it over his shoulder.
He pulls his wallet from his pocket and walks over to the seller. “I’ll pay you five hundred dollars right now for all the pups.”
“Wait! What?” I exclaim, scurrying to his side.
I glance back at the pen, and although I’m well aware of how many dogs are in there, I count again.
Five.
The seller is asking for three hundred apiece, but for the life of me, I can’t begin to imagine that Kellen thinks this is a good idea.
I tug at his arm, but he pulls it away from me.
“A thousand,” the seller says, and negotiations ensue.
I watch boggled as Kellen dickers with the guy. They finally agree on eight hundred for all five puppies, and Kellen gets the guy to agree to throw in the pen too.
“What are you going to do with five puppies?” I stammer.
The man grins at me, eyes sparkling. “I’m going to save them. Gotta start somewhere, right?”
This right here… this is the moment I realize I’m hopelessly, deeply, and irrevocably in love with Kellen McCord.
♦
We’re able to drive Kellen’s SUV around to the back gate where the puppy pimps are set up. It’s not ideal without a crate to get them home, but he folds his seats flat and drives like a grandma to his house.
The introduction of the pups to Bubba is seamless. He’s such a good boy… curiously gentle as he sniffs them while they run around the backyard.
Kellen pushes me out of the house by handing me his keys and leaving it to me to handle the grocery shopping for the barbecue. I don’t mind—I’m still reeling over him buying the pups. And I’m excited his friends are coming over. I enjoyed meeting them last night at the wedding, putting faces to the names. The women were super nice and inclusive, and I think I made a few new friends.
Kynan told me that I am part of their family now, and as someone who has been isolated to an extent from family—my doing, admittedly—it’s comforting to have this new group willing to welcome me in.
At the store, I get everything needed to grill dogs and burgers, along with sides from the deli counter. I grab beer and soft drinks and three bottles of wine. A quick mental calculation of Kellen’s cupboards makes me realize he doesn’t have enough plates and utensils, so I go with paper and plastic products, including a sleeve of Solo cups. Last, I hit the bakery and grab cookies and two pies.
When I return to Kellen’s house, I find him in the front yard with the ex pen set up and the puppies romping around while Bubba lies in the grass, keeping watch. Kellen has one wriggly puppy in a large plastic tub—he’s giving it a bath.
God, he’s hot. He’s wearing a pair of shorts but no shirt. The tattoos covering his muscles ripple as he works shampoo into the pup’s filthy coat. He glances up as I park and smiles.
When I grab bags from the rear, Kellen calls out, “Hold on just a second… I’ll bring all that in.”
“I got it,” I reply, heading toward the sidewalk.
While still scrubbing the pup, he twists to look over his shoulder at me with a stern expression. “I said… hold on a second. I’ll bring it all in.”
“I’m perfectly capable of carrying groceries,” I say with an eye roll.
“You did the shopping. I’ll do the carrying.”
“You’re washing the puppies.”
“You gave them medical care.”
I stop halfway up the sidewalk, smiling at him. “We make a good team.”
Kellen grins. “The best.” He then picks up the soapy little boy, holds him up before his face, and asks solemnly, “What do you think? Should I keep Dr. Abby?”
The pup’s feet paddle the air, and he licks the end of Kellen’s nose which makes his hot factor multiply by ten and my ovaries start pulsating.
“What time is everyone coming?” I ask, calculating if perhaps we could work in a quickie.
Kellen sets the dog back in the tub and looks at his watch. “About half an hour.”
Well, crap. Not enough time.
I mean, there is, but we have too much to do yet.
“Why’d you ask?”
I shrug, smiling to myself and heading up the porch. “No reason.”
Within half an hour, Kellen has the puppies reasonably dried off and transferred to the backyard to play, I have the barbecue food laid out on platters and in bowls and the beer and sodas on ice.
Kellen changes clothes, lights up the grill to preheat, and pulls me into a searing kiss just as the doorbell rings with our first guest.
