Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
17
Throw Me a Bone
Veronica
* * *
As I fly to Throw Me A Bone, the doggie daycare, I tap out a mayday to Ellie. This situation calls for backup.
Veronica: Oh, hi. How was your day? Mine was good. I sold some flowers, helped some customers, and JUST RODE MY BOSS’S HAND LIKE IT WAS A TEN-SPEED RABBIT!!!!
* * *
Ellie: Took you long enough.
* * *
Veronica: Not helpful! I work for him. Oh my god, what have I done?
* * *
Ellie: Well, I hope you did his fingers. But ideally, after you rang up the orders. Good customer service is so important these days.
* * *
Veronica: I give excellent customer service! But Ellie!!!! My boss has seen my O face. Clear your schedule tonight!
* * *
Ellie: Sounds like he’s done a little more than seen. And obviously, I cleared my schedule the second I read the words boss and rabbit in the preview pane. This is going to be better entertainment than the next episode of A Gentleman’s Deal.
I start to type I don’t want to be entertaining. I want to be . . .
But I stop writing as I race walk to Throw Me a Bone. I don’t know how to finish that thought. Who do I want to be? A model employee? A responsible human being? A good girl who follows the rules?
I’m too frazzled to know.
As the sign for the doggy daycare comes into view, I erase those last words and start over.
Veronica: Thanks, Ellie. I need a friend tonight.
She sends me back an always and a smiley face.
I know this much. With Ellie, I can always be my ridiculous, messy, chaotic self, and she’ll have my back.
18
A Sex Algorithm
Veronica
* * *
Since I don’t want to be tempted to check my phone every five minutes for a text from Milo, I jam it to the bottom of my purse as I walk home with StudMuffin. When I reach my apartment, I set the device face down on the kitchen counter, then feed the little guy dinner.
Like a cool, calm gal, I ignore all screens as I change into pajama pants and yank my hair into a messy bun.
Text? What text? I’m not waiting for a stinking text.
Pfft.
Approximately an hour and twenty-six minutes post-orgasm, I head across the hall for some girl time. I’ve got a bottle of wine, some fresh kale from the balcony, and my pup.
And check out my restraint—I’ve only peeked at my texts nine times since I left Throw Me a Bone.
Fine, nineteen.
Okay, ninety-nine times.
But I’m done checking for the night, I swear. I refuse to be Miss Obsessed With a Man. I’m twenty-six and since I haven’t been caught up in a dude’s orbit yet, I’m not going to let dick gravity pull me in tonight.
I set the phone to do-not-disturb mode, then knock on Ellie’s door.
My friend swings open the door and sweeps out an arm, inviting me in. “Let the entertainment begin.”
“I deserve that,” I say as StudMuffin trots over to say hello to Gigi, Ellie’s Chihuahua mix. Gigi snags a stuffed monkey from her toy bucket and noses it his way. As the two get to work shredding the primate in the living room, I join Ellie in her galley kitchen.
“I’ve got olives, three-seed crackers, and an arugula salad. You’ve got the truth serum,” Ellie says, pointing at the wine as she thrusts the bottle opener my way. “Tell me everything that happened on the job today.”
My jitters hit me again in full force. “I was supposed to get a job. I wasn’t supposed to get a lady job,” I say, then stab the opener into the cork with a huff.
“Oh, honey,” Ellie chides, gently grabbing my wrist. “Never take anything out on the wine. Wine is always our friend.”
“And I’m my own worst enemy.” I meet her warm brown eyes and blurt out, “I’m a magnet, and I’m attracted to trouble.”
With a sympathetic smile, she opens the wine, then pours two glasses. She slides one to me, then takes a drink of hers. “Trouble can be sexy. A lot of us are attracted to it. It’s why bad boys and forbidden romances will always be popular. Not to mention secret office trysts,” she says, then sets down her glass to add the kale to the salad. “Now, give me the goods. Was his hand as good as a toy?”
A shiver rushes down my spine. I dismiss my hot-mess worries for a beat because I’m dying to relive that moment. “It was like . . . he listened to my body,” I whisper, as if speaking the words at full volume will endanger the memory. I’m still amazed at how Milo read the road map of me so easily. “He wasn’t one of those let me show you my best moves kind of guys. It was like he wanted to give me exactly what I wanted.”