Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Muttering something about how gators are safer than fluffy animals that can set off allergy symptoms or an emotional support fox he met one time who smelled like actual ass, Alligator Man gently collects Gavin from the floor. In one smooth motion, he tucks the baby under his sweater and cradles him close. “There, there, buddy, you’re okay,” he whispers.
A beat later, Gavin’s tiny snout appears in the opening of his sweater. He lets out a soft chirp and licks Alligator Man’s chin.
From behind the guards, a reverent voice coos, “Green puppy.”
We all spin to see the toddler who frightened Gavin standing a short distance away, holding her mother’s hand with one pudgy fist. She points to Gavin, her eyes wide and excited. “Pet green puppy? Missy pet green puppy? Pet him soft?”
Her mom laughs nervously. “I told you, honey. It’s not a puppy. It’s an alligator, and they can be dangerous.”
The little girl scowls as she glances between her mom and the “green puppy” who’s still licking Alligator Man’s face, clearly dubious about Gavin’s danger potential.
“Aw, Gavin’s a sweetheart,” his owner says. “She can pet him if she wants. He’s a real good boy, and I’ll hold his mouth closed.”
“Pwease, Mommy, pwease!” Missy’s eyes go wide as she thrusts her arms up toward her mother.
“Okay,” the woman says, clearly uneasy but doing her best to encourage her daughter’s bravery.
And that’s how Muriel emerges from the bathroom to find a tiny girl petting an alligator just two feet away from her peacefully sleeping kittens. “Oh dear,” she says, her eyes wide as she watches Missy giggle and stroke Gavin’s scaled head. Coming to stand beside me, she whispers, “That doesn’t look safe.”
I nod, murmuring, “No, it doesn’t. But we can’t always play it safe.”
Muriel looks up at me, seeming to understand that I’m talking about more than alligators. “That’s true. Play it too safe and you might miss the whole point. We’re not here to play it safe. We’re here to be alive. As alive as we can stand to be.”
I glance down at her, my throat tight. “Yeah. And I think I can handle more than I’ve been giving myself credit for.”
She smiles. “I think so, too. Happy holidays, Dipsy.”
“Call me Rose,” I say, my heart swelling as the need to make things right crowds out every other emotion. “And happy holidays to all of you, even you, Alligator Man.”
“Chuck,” Alligator Man says, grinning at the enraptured Missy. “Call me Chuck. And God bless us everyone.”
“Everyone,” I echo as I back away from the group.
“Go get your man, woman,” Chuck says, surprising me. “He looked way too sad waiting on that elevator. No one should look that sad on Christmas Eve.”
No, they shouldn’t.
“Thanks, Chuck, I will,” I say, waving before I turn and jog back toward the hotel, the weight in my heart easing with every step.
Chapter Ten
Bear
I’m drying off after another awkward, cast-impeded shower when I hear it—the soft beep of the door opening in the main part of the suite.
Quickly, I wrap the towel around my waist and grab my crutches.
It’s probably just a member of the housekeeping staff coming in for turndown service who didn’t notice the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door. But just in case, I put on my “don’t fuck with me” face as I move through the bedroom and down the short hallway leading into the kitchen and living area.
In my younger years, I was a boxer long enough to master the fine art of wordless intimidation. My sheer size is usually enough to get the job done, but an “I could pound you into the ground with one hand tied behind my back” glare is always a good thing to have in your back pocket, especially when you’re down to one good leg.
But when I reach the main room, it isn’t a member of housekeeping.
It’s Rose, her chest rising and falling faster as she pants against the door. “The elevator was taking forever so I took the stairs. All five floors,” she says, her eyes widening as I step fully into the space. She swallows hard, before she adds in a thinner voice, “I’m out of shape. You are…not. Wow. You. In a towel. You’re not out of shape. Not even a little bit.”
“You’re perfect.” I mean it, but I don’t move any closer.
My gut says the fact that she’s here and thinks I look good in nothing but a towel is a great sign. But on the off chance that she’s just come to get her suitcase, I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’ve already been up and down that roller coaster too many times tonight.
Her breath rushing out, she shakes her head hard. “No, I’m not perfect. I’m not even close. But I’m also not my mother or my father or my friend, Caroline, or any other ambitious person trying to have it all. And I’m not going in blind. I know the dangers. I know it isn’t going to be easy.”