Read Online Sex Kittens and Horn Dawgs Fall in Love by Maryrose Wood - Free Book Online
Authors: Maryrose Wood
Tags: Fiction
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From where he’s perched it’s a short step up to the top rail of the iron fence.
“Who’s first?” says Trip. He extends his hand, and before you can say “nerves of steel,” Jess is on the branch next to him. She flashes me a big, adventure-loving grin before taking the leap. There’s a soft thud.
“Oooooooooh,” coos Jess’s voice from inside the park. “It’s SO beautiful!”
Kat flies up next, her lean arms strong from countless hours with the violin. “Let me go first so I can catch you,” offers Trip, the very model of Dawg-on-the-make gallantry. He hops effortlessly over the fence. Kat follows, landing with a giggle. A giggle! From Kat!
“Hey, you’re light as a feather,” I hear Trip’s voice say.
Now it’s just me and Matthew, the intrepid investigators of
amour
. “After you,” he says, smiling that irresistibly inscrutable Matthew Dwyer half-smile. He laces his fingers together so I can use his hands to step up to the branch.
It’s always so nice to be in a tree, I think, before realizing I’ve said it out loud.
“Yes, it is,” agrees Matthew. He’s next to me on the branch now. We can peer over the fence and the thick evergreen hedge and see almost all of the little private wooded park. I know Gram well from ground level, but this is a brand-new vantage point.
Matthew and Felicia sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Who writes these songs?
Matthew holds out his hand, and I take it, and together we jump over the fence, landing butt-first on a hard, damp pile of wood chips.
(Felicia’s Private Kitten Directive Number Ohmigod-Matthew-Held-My-Hand!: All Instances of Matthew-Felicia Body Contact MUST be Logged in Felicia’s Notebook Within Twenty-Four Hours of Occurring!)
Trip, Jess, and Kat are standing there smiling, covered with bits of bark and dead leaves.
“You guys look like garden gnomes,” says Matthew, laughing. Trip hunkers down and makes comical gnome-like movements. Kat struggles not to smile and fails. We start to walk along the gravelly path.
The past sunny week has deslushified the ground, leaving only the glittering remains of melting icicles dripping off the tree branches. Now that it’s March, little nubs of green crocus tips are pushing up through the dirt, right on schedule.
“All right,” says Matthew as we walk. “We have a few basic questions for all of you. First: What is your experience of love?”
“Whoa there, youngstah!” Trip exclaims, turning around. “What do you mean? Second base, third base, all the way?”
“He said
love
. Not
baseball,
” says Kat, with the tiniest shade of Violin Kat edge in her voice.
“It’s all sport, beautiful Katarina!” says Trip, throwing his arms wide. “A competition, with winners and losers. And some lucky dude takes home the gold medal! All shiny and golden, just like your pretty hair.”
“That’s fascinating, Trip,” I say. “But what we really need to know is, have you ever been in love?”
“And if so,” Matthew continues, “what qualities in the environment, or circumstances of meeting, or in the actual object of your affection—”
“—meaning, the person you fell in love with,” I add, to clarify.
“—right, which of those factors caused or contributed to the actual ‘falling in love’ experience?” asks Matthew.
“And,” I go on, “if there was a subsequent ‘falling out of love’ experience, exactly what change may have occurred in said environment or circumstances—”
“—or object of your affection—” says Matthew.
“—right, to precipitate that happening?” Whew! Matthew and I high-five. We are good at this.
Trip and Kat and Jess are staring at us like three bobble-heads from those quarter vending machines, trying to keep up.
“You know,” says Jess, “I’m NOT being critical, but that is actually kind of complicated.”
“But they’re asking about
love,
” says Kat. “Love
is
complicated. People do terrible things for love.” This is
“Who’s first?” says Trip. He extends his hand, and before you can say “nerves of steel,” Jess is on the branch next to him. She flashes me a big, adventure-loving grin before taking the leap. There’s a soft thud.
“Oooooooooh,” coos Jess’s voice from inside the park. “It’s SO beautiful!”
Kat flies up next, her lean arms strong from countless hours with the violin. “Let me go first so I can catch you,” offers Trip, the very model of Dawg-on-the-make gallantry. He hops effortlessly over the fence. Kat follows, landing with a giggle. A giggle! From Kat!
“Hey, you’re light as a feather,” I hear Trip’s voice say.
Now it’s just me and Matthew, the intrepid investigators of
amour
. “After you,” he says, smiling that irresistibly inscrutable Matthew Dwyer half-smile. He laces his fingers together so I can use his hands to step up to the branch.
It’s always so nice to be in a tree, I think, before realizing I’ve said it out loud.
“Yes, it is,” agrees Matthew. He’s next to me on the branch now. We can peer over the fence and the thick evergreen hedge and see almost all of the little private wooded park. I know Gram well from ground level, but this is a brand-new vantage point.
Matthew and Felicia sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Who writes these songs?
Matthew holds out his hand, and I take it, and together we jump over the fence, landing butt-first on a hard, damp pile of wood chips.
(Felicia’s Private Kitten Directive Number Ohmigod-Matthew-Held-My-Hand!: All Instances of Matthew-Felicia Body Contact MUST be Logged in Felicia’s Notebook Within Twenty-Four Hours of Occurring!)
Trip, Jess, and Kat are standing there smiling, covered with bits of bark and dead leaves.
“You guys look like garden gnomes,” says Matthew, laughing. Trip hunkers down and makes comical gnome-like movements. Kat struggles not to smile and fails. We start to walk along the gravelly path.
The past sunny week has deslushified the ground, leaving only the glittering remains of melting icicles dripping off the tree branches. Now that it’s March, little nubs of green crocus tips are pushing up through the dirt, right on schedule.
“All right,” says Matthew as we walk. “We have a few basic questions for all of you. First: What is your experience of love?”
“Whoa there, youngstah!” Trip exclaims, turning around. “What do you mean? Second base, third base, all the way?”
“He said
love
. Not
baseball,
” says Kat, with the tiniest shade of Violin Kat edge in her voice.
“It’s all sport, beautiful Katarina!” says Trip, throwing his arms wide. “A competition, with winners and losers. And some lucky dude takes home the gold medal! All shiny and golden, just like your pretty hair.”
“That’s fascinating, Trip,” I say. “But what we really need to know is, have you ever been in love?”
“And if so,” Matthew continues, “what qualities in the environment, or circumstances of meeting, or in the actual object of your affection—”
“—meaning, the person you fell in love with,” I add, to clarify.
“—right, which of those factors caused or contributed to the actual ‘falling in love’ experience?” asks Matthew.
“And,” I go on, “if there was a subsequent ‘falling out of love’ experience, exactly what change may have occurred in said environment or circumstances—”
“—or object of your affection—” says Matthew.
“—right, to precipitate that happening?” Whew! Matthew and I high-five. We are good at this.
Trip and Kat and Jess are staring at us like three bobble-heads from those quarter vending machines, trying to keep up.
“You know,” says Jess, “I’m NOT being critical, but that is actually kind of complicated.”
“But they’re asking about
love,
” says Kat. “Love
is
complicated. People do terrible things for love.” This is
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