Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
"I can’t believe she did this." I'm full-on backpedaling, knowing I need to take this as a win and get the hell out. I clutch my furry traitor to my chest and manage a polite thank you before retreating to pay my huge bill.
I fumble with Winnie's harness, nearly drop my wallet, and trip over my own bag on my way out. The fluorescent lights flicker as I push the door open, escaping the sympathetic eyes of everyone who knew my dog was faking all along.
In the car, I wait for my face to go back to its normal shade. I point the A/C vent at Winnie, hoping it improves her mood. "I’m going to be living on hot dogs and macaroni and cheese to pay for this little stunt," I tell her, replaying the scene in my head.
I let out a long sigh and find myself thinking about Ian again as I drive, contemplating the universe's little tests. I switch lanes and glance at my shaggy passenger. “We need some exercise.”
Deciding a walk in the park will do us both good, I drive past my apartment complex without stopping. Winnie gives a satisfied squeak, probably already planning her next little scheme.
The door of the car barely clicks shut before Winnie is pulling like she’s in the Iditarod. She's towing me past neatly trimmed hedges, down the sidewalk, all two pounds of her working the leash like a sled dog with a death wish.
When I pick her up, she snorts at me, defiant, tiny feet dangling and impatient. "Fine," I say, putting her down and trotting to keep up as we rush down the path. The sky is a pure and brilliant blue, and the warm air feels like we were meant for it, both of us soaking in the color and sunlight after hours in the clinic’s dull fluorescence.
Winnie's tail waves like a banner. She zigs and zags us past benches where moms and dads push strollers and snap photos of juice-stained toddlers. I'm grateful for the anonymity of my sunglasses, ducking behind them when I catch the eye of anyone who might know me.
Winnie's charging forward, and I take a shortcut across the grass. It's dotted with kids in swimsuits running through sprinklers, teenagers kicking soccer balls, and the occasional determined exerciser sweating it out. Riverbend Ridge’s finest, living their carefree weekend lives while I'm reliving my idiot moment from earlier. I almost pull Winnie back to make a quick exit, but then I see him.
Ian Too Freaking Hot in the flesh.
The universe does have a plan. It's called tormenting me at every turn.
He's on the opposite side of the field, about as close as we got in conversation last time we met. His hair's a little mussed like he didn't bother taming it after a shower, and he's not wearing a hat, which is unfortunate because it would have blocked out how handsome his face is. Instead, it reveals a slightly bewildered expression as he wrestles with two leashes.
I move closer, less because of him and more because of the wiry dachshund and portly pig hog-tying his legs.
I'm in range now, near enough that he's got to see me, but too far to pretend it doesn’t matter. I slow to a near crawl, digging my heels in to steady myself against Winnie's dragging and my own cowardice.
Then, before I know it, Ian looks up, right into my eyes. His hair flops over his eyes as the dachshund takes another circle, and I can't help laughing at his predicament. It's the pig that saves him. With a noise like a truck backing up, it plants its butt and stops the mess cold.
He finally untangles himself and starts over, towing the adorable animals. Winnie's dancing on her hind legs by the time he's in talking distance. "Fancy meeting you here," he calls. He's got that smile, the one that makes it impossible for me to respond without embarrassing myself.
"We were just out for a walk on our way back from the vet. I was late with her dinner last night, so I had a lot of making up to do," I blurt out, my words tumbling out faster than I can control as if pulled by an invisible force of attraction.
“Vet?” Concern flickers in his eyes, a magnetic pull as he looks down at Winnie, drawing me closer with its intensity.
“Winnie decided I needed a heart attack today,” I say, rolling my eyes but feeling the warmth of our connection ignite. “The little faker.”
His laughter is a soft rumble that sends a thrill through me, a spark dancing in the space between us. “I’m glad it was nothing serious.”
“It was nothing at all,” I grumble, though my gaze lingers on him, the air crackling with unspoken words. I nod toward the dog and pot-belly pig weaving around his legs. “Who are these guys?”