“Syd.”
“It’s so hard.”
“Syd.”
Her eyes lifted to meet my gaze. “You should probably put on a shirt before I do something crazy like hump your leg.”
This time I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Taking her hand in mine, I turned her arm over and kissed her wrist.
“Seriously, after last night, leg-humping is likely in the foreseeable future.”
I handed her my coffee and headed back out to the living room and up the stairs to my bedroom. I grabbed the first T-shirt I could find and slipped it on over my head. When I walked into the kitchen, Sydney stared at me like I had grown a second head.
“No! Not the black Salem PD shirt. That’s just being mean.”
I glanced down at the shirt. “What’s wrong with this shirt?”
“Wrong?” she repeated with a laugh. “Oh, there is nothing wrong with it. There is really nothing wrong with it when you add in the lounge pants and the fact that I can see your… your… zucchini bulge.”
She dropped her head and sighed. “Seriously. I need something to shock me before I open my mouth again.”
Smiling, I took her into my arms. “My zucchini is happy to see you.”
She blushed. “I’m glad to know that. Seriously, though, you have to change, Mike. I feel like my body is going to explode with all this…”
I placed my finger against her lips. “I feel like there is another thought you’re trying to keep in your head that your mouth really wants to let loose.”
This time she giggled, and it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.
“I’m going to go change.”
After changing into jeans and a hideous, puke-green promotional T-shirt I got for free at some fundraiser, I walked back into the kitchen. Sydney was standing there, looking down at Maggie Maye’s food and water bowls.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She looked back at me and grimaced at the shirt I had on.
“Goodness, that thing is… not the black Salem PD shirt.”
“Nope, I thought this one might be a safer choice,” I replied, taking my coffee and opening the lid. I noticed Sydney had already added the cream for me. For some strange reason, that made my chest tighten, and a lump formed in my throat.
“Mike, we have a problem. Maggie Maye is eating and drinking out of your normal kitchen bowls.”
“How is that a problem?”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “What? Seriously? She can’t drink and eat from human bowls!”
I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t help myself, and I felt the corner of my mouth lift. “Why not? A bowl’s a bowl, Syd.”