Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
My facial expression must have said I had no idea who Lloyd was.
“The new guy,” she said. “He’s called in for the next week. He has COVID.”
“Oh.” I scrubbed the dog behind the ear, knowing whatever Amanda was getting at probably wouldn’t be anything great.
“I’ve spent my off day trying to divvy out the two assignments he had. One was a quick write-up for Parent Magazine regarding the penguin experience at the Long Island Aquarium, and—”
“I’ll take that one,” I blurted. One, it was a short subway ride from my apartment, and two, penguins.
“Beth already took that one. But the other one is right up your alley.”
I’d bet it was. A body farm, a skunk museum…
“Jethro Wright’s Urinal Museum in the breathtaking, small-town USA city of Cotton Flint Falls, Kansas.” She beamed, and I stopped petting the poodle. Because she’d just said urinal museum. “I know you just got back from a shortened trip, but all the other journalists have assignments booked and paid for. You’re our last hope.”
“I…” Couldn’t handle her being nice for one, and two, I didn’t want to go to a urinal museum.
“And since it’s short notice, Mr. Wander approved a three-hundred-dollar bonus. You’ll leave on Thursday and come back the next day. Just a—” she snapped her fingers— “quick little trip, and then you’re right back in the middle of this amazing city for the weekend.”
My dad leaned into my side. “If you go, don’t buy me a urinal magnet. It’s not food.”
I turned, half-frowning at him before I redirected my attention to Amanda. Did I want to go to the Urinal Museum in Wherever Falls, Kansas? Absolutely not. Did I want the extra three-hundred bucks for a mere inconvenience? Yes.
Plus, my dad had always taught me going above and beyond at work paid off in the long run. And if Vance and I got found out, it wouldn’t hurt to be in their good graces.
“Sure,” I said, just as the dog sat on my lap.
“Wonderful. I’ll email you all the details later today.”
I nodded just as something warm and wet spread over my thigh. I glanced down at the poodle panting in my lap as the warm patch grew. “Did you—”
Amanda clicked her tongue. The dog hopped up, prancing off after her while I stared in shock at the wet spot on my dress.
Dad leaned over my shoulder. “Did that dog just pee on you?”
“Yes.”
“Peanut, I’m really starting to believe you’re cursed.”
No shit.
You’re joking…
The swish of washing machines and the hum of dryers sounded behind me as I leaned over the laundromat folding table to text Vance back.
After Dad and I had finished our picnic, I swung by Margot’s, changed out of the dog-pee dress and into a T-shirt and shorts, then grabbed the rest of my clothes and brought them in for a wash.
God, how I wish I was.
Then I sent a picture of the pee stain on my dress, the offending poodle a prancing blur in the background.
Out of all the dogs to pee on me, it had to be owned by Amanda.
It does make it worse.
When do you get back from the urinal museum?
Friday at four.
The dryer beeped. I grabbed my load of clothes from it, sniffing to ensure the smell of urine was gone from the dress. It wasn’t. Back into the washer it went.
Dinner at Junoon at six?
Junoon was an upscale Indian restaurant near Madison Square. It had incredible reviews, but the prices were out of my budget. Margot and I had pulled up the menu at work countless times, toying with going for an extravagant girl’s-night-out, but we’d never followed through.
I hear they have an amazing mushroom ghost chili korma.
My mouth salivated at the idea of that food.
I’ve been dying to go to Junoon just for that dish.
The eavesdropping has really paid off…
If I didn’t like you so much, I’d think you were a complete stalker.
I’d suggest that “skulker” or perhaps “pursuer” is a more appropriate word.
Yeah. I was pretty sure I loved him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
VANCE
Gravel crunched underneath the tires of the rental when I turned off the dark county highway. I followed the drive, pulling up in front of the single-story white house with the wrap-around porch. The past few days of going back and forth to the hospital, coupled with the jetlag, had worn me out.
I cut the engine and got out of the car. The headlights went off before I’d made it around the side of the house, leaving me to stumble through the dark, muggy Alabama night to the side door.
Thank God for the glow-in-the-dark gnome Grandma kept the spare key hidden beneath.
I opened the door, flipped the kitchen light switch, and made it two steps inside before the scuttling tap of claws shot across the linoleum. Cowboy skidded around the corner, ready for his dinner. The dog was at least ten pounds overweight because Grandma fed him two cans of dog food in the morning and two at night.