Donnchadh - Lynn Hagen Page 0,9

little and loved even less. He prayed the human was just what Donnchadh needed.

* * * *

For two days Getty stayed in his room typing away on his laptop, getting his work done, almost forgetting Donnchadh existed. He’d tried, at least, and sometimes failed.

He was starting to feel as if he lived in a cave. No sunlight, no one to talk to—because he actively avoided his dad and Bimbo. He’d even turned his phone off.

Getty had disconnected from the world, and now he was feeling antsy. Any other time he would’ve gone for daily walks to clear his head and to remember a world existed outside his own bedroom, but he was so afraid of running into Donnchadh or his dad—who kept giving him funny looks ever since they’d seen each other in the diner.

He felt like he was losing his mind. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about that tall, dark drink of water? Why couldn’t he sleep without Donnchadh invading his dreams? That one-night stand was like an itch Getty couldn’t scratch, and it was frustrating as hell.

After reading the same line of code five times, he knew he needed a break. He was also still pissed that, after coming home from the diner, he’d found forty bucks missing out of his top drawer. He’d confronted his father and Bimbo, but both had denied going into his bedroom.

Something had to give, or he just might go postal.

This time he made sure he locked his bedroom door before he left the house. Even though it was past midnight, he knew there was a possibility that the two were still awake, and he didn’t want the thief to strike again.

Wasn’t it enough that he was paying all the bills, buying groceries, and giving his father money here and there? What more did they expect from him? Bimbo wasn’t even a good houseguest. She didn’t do dishes—because she was afraid of messing up her nails—never vacuumed—because she said dust made her sneeze—and didn’t even do laundry.

What in the hell did his father see in her? The sex couldn’t be that great, and Getty definitely didn’t want to think about his dad having sex.

A walk around the block should help. After all, Maple Grove was a safe little town where crime rarely happened. The walk would also give Getty the opportunity to think about Pete’s advice.

Renting an apartment where he didn’t have to deal with his father or his dad’s girlfriend. Better yet, he could rent them an apartment and get them out of his hair.

Getty wasn’t ungrateful. Of course he appreciated the hard work and sacrifices his father had made raising him. But it had been Getty’s mother who’d done most of the sacrificing while his father made excuses of why he couldn’t work or lost himself in a bottle.

Lost in thought, Getty didn’t realize he’d walked close to the downtown area of Maple Grove. There were still cars on the street, and he heard noises from Tilted, the local tavern. The parking lot there was practically full, which gave Getty a false sense of safety.

As he continued to walk, he noticed a shadowy figure leaning against a tree. Getty kept his eyes straight ahead. The guy was probably some drunk from the tavern, and Getty didn’t want to give the stranger an excuse to strike up a conversation, especially since the guy wasn’t that great looking.

And he still had Donnchadh on the brain. It was aggravating as hell to think about someone so much. Someone he’d slept with one time—albeit an amazing night of sex—and he wished he could purge Donnchadh from his mind.

It had been one sexual encounter. There was no love lost between them. It wasn’t as though someone like Donnchadh would even consider dating someone like him. They had nothing in common.

Getty rubbed his chest, wondering why his thoughts had taken such a depressing turn. He’d been okay with not seeing Donnchadh again, yet he suddenly felt like balling his eyes out at the prospect of never seeing him again.

“Looking for a good time, sweetheart?”

Fuck. The drunk was following him. He might not have been good-looking, but the guy was well built and, even drunk, could probably overpower Getty.

He ignored the stranger and picked up his pace, even crossing the street. It was time to walk his ass home. Getty should’ve never wandered this damn far.

For someone who was inebriated, the guy was able to keep pace. It was possible he wasn’t drunk, just some perv hanging around