Free One More Time by RB Hilliard Page B

little ice cream shop where he bought me a scoop of homemade mint chocolate chip ice cream. On the way home, Amelia started to fret. Dillon simply turned on the radio and played with the dial until it landed on Stay , by Sugarland. Sad country songs aren’t usually my thing. Apparently Amelia dug them because the second Jennifer Nettles started in on the chorus she stopped crying. Words of love, loss and loneliness surrounded us, and suddenly I had to ask.
    “What made you come back for me?”
    A frown appeared on his face and his beautiful eyes clouded over. Focusing intently on the road in front of us, he turned up the music and acted as if I never asked the question. I wanted to take it back but couldn’t. When we got upstairs to the apartment, he said he had stuff to do. I carried Amelia, who was fretting again, into the bedroom and got us both ready for her to nurse. Dillon came in and out a few times while I was doing this, but he never once looked in our direction. Right as I pulled Amelia to my breast he told me he was going to go to the gym and then straight to work, that I shouldn’t count on seeing him until late.
    Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut?
    I spent the night cleaning up Dillon’s disgusting apartment and doing his laundry. I felt it was the least I could do. The second my head hit the pillow, I was out. The next morning, I heard him rustling around in the kitchen. Throwing on one of his clean shirts, I left Amelia sleeping on the bed and made my way out to the kitchen. Dillon was already dressed in jeans and a form fitting black Nirvana T.
    “Nice shirt,” he said, handing me a cup of coffee.
    I gave him a sheepish grin. “It was the closest thing to me. I can go change, if it bothers you.”
    “Naw, I’m good. I’m out of here anyway.” At my questioning look, he said he had inventory at the bar and to not expect to see him around until it was over. When I asked when he expected that to be, he just shrugged. Then he explained how he had bought groceries before coming home last night and to call if I needed anything. Before I could ask anything else, he was out the door.
    Three days later I was beyond frustrated. I had seen Dillon all of thirty minutes and twenty of those, he’d spent on the phone with his brother. Talk about shutting someone out. How was I supposed to get back in if I never saw him? Did I even want back in? I wasn’t sure. Dillon Whitaker could be one cold man.
    I was about to make a sandwich for lunch when I heard a knock at the door. Amelia had just nursed and was passed out smack in the middle of Dillon’s huge bed. Brutus gave a half woof from the living room. Before he unleashed a torrent of noise and woke up the baby, I sprinted out of the bedroom, across the living room and flung open the front door. A cute redheaded woman shot past me, acting as if she was being chased by the devil himself. I watched her jump up and down in what appeared to be some new twerking type dance. Not sure what to do, I just stood there staring at her. Brutus, on the other hand, decided to join in on the fun by nuzzling her crotch. Letting out a squeal of surprise, she squatted down, flung her arms around his neck and started kissing his big black nose. Seeming happy with this result, he flopped onto the floor and gave her sandaled foot a big swipe with his tongue. I glared at him. So much for owning a protective dog.
    “What is he?” the redhead squealed. I wanted to tell her to keep her voice down, but thought that might be rude.
    “A dog?” I half-questioned, half-answered. Had she never seen a dog before?
    She let out a dramatic gasp and whispered, “No shit? So that’s what a dog looks like. I’ve always wondered.” The expression of awe on her face was rather disturbing. Who in the world has never heard of a dog before? I was wondering who this nutty-as-a-fruitcake person was I had just willy-nilly let into Dillon’s home, when she burst into gales of laughter. “The