Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
But when she shows up at exactly four on the dot, my stomach cramps in distress as I watch her cross the parking lot outside the office window. “Ugh. There she is,” I say to Christian, closing my laptop. “Guess I should go help Sheila out. Just in case Raney decides to show her mean side again.”
“Stay strong,” he says. “And holler if you need backup.”
“Will do,” I say, my chest warming as I pass his desk and he reaches out to give me a fist bump.
I love the working relationship we have now. It’s hard to believe we were ever at odds or that Christian once referred to me as “an agent of chaos.”
I guess I grew on him over time.
He’s certainly grown on me.
Even facing down an interaction with one of my least favorite people on earth, I’m happier than I’ve been in ages. I’ve never been an unhappy person, per se, but having a garbage relationship with my boyfriend for years did put a damper on my upbeat nature. Now, for the first time, I can imagine how much more blissful a good relationship could make my life and it is…tempting.
What if Christian and I could be more than a fling? What if we could find a way to make this work without rules and games and playing pretend?
It’s not what we agreed on, but maybe, if things go as well as I expect them to on our sex-cation at the cabin, I could put the possibility out there…
See what Christian thinks about it…
He’ll shut you down. Then, he’ll shut down sexy playtime, and you’ll miss out on all the banging you could have been doing for the next few weeks, the fearful voice in my head assures me. Or best-case scenario, he agrees to give dating a try, then dumps you three months later, just like he’s dumped every other woman in town. He is who he is, and he never pretended to be anyone different. Remember, like Maya Angelou said—when someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.
The inner voice is right. I should enjoy this for what it is instead of wishing for something more.
Pushing thoughts of how nice it would be to have Christian’s back—and to know he has mine—for the long haul, I hurry down the hall to the door to adoption room one, a private space where people can spend time with a potential pet one-on-one. Sheila is already there with Killer, still in his crate, and Raney is settling into the small sofa on the right side of the room as I swing inside.
“Hey, welcome to Furry Friends,” I say, forcing a polite smile for Raney, who looks much less smug than she did this past weekend. But she’s on my turf now, without her boyfriend to back her up. Luckily for her, I’m not the kind of person to press a home court advantage. “Ready to see your fur baby?”
“So ready,” Raney says, rubbing her palms anxiously on her acid-washed jeans. “I hope he isn’t mad at me. Killer is the sweetest, but boy can he hold a grudge. The one time Blinky and I left him by himself overnight to go to my stepsister’s wedding, he didn’t talk to us for a week. He was so pissed. Even though we gave him tons of food and put on that smooth jazz channel he likes while we were gone.”
“My dogs love jazz, too,” Sheila says warmly. “Killer might be a little stressed out from his time in the woods, but we’ll just sip our tea and give him time to come out of the crate on his own. What kind of tea do you prefer, Raney? I have Earl Grey, orange ginger, or chamomile.”
“The chamomile smells like feet, though,” I whisper, earning a good-natured eye roll from Sheila and an uncertain smile from Raney, as if she can’t tell if I’m making a joke at her expense. “Seriously,” I say. “I steer clear of the chamomile, but it can be soothing if you can tolerate the stink.”
“I’ll do the orange ginger then, I guess,” Raney says, glancing between us. “Thanks.”
“Same for me, please, Sheila,” I say.
“Perfect,” she says, gently unlatching the clasp on the crate sitting on the floor about five feet from the sofa and letting it swing open on its own. “I’ll go get that and be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
As the door closes behind her, Raney let’s out a soft sobbing sound. I look back to see her eyes filled with tears.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She shakes her head, clearly fighting the tears. “I feel like shit. My baby’s scared to come out of that crate and be with me and it’s all my fault. I’m the one who put him in that costume and made him run off. I could tell he didn’t like it, but he looked so fucking cute, and there was a five-hundred-dollar prize for best pet costume…” She sniffs and shakes her head. “I could just slap myself. What if he’d been hurt out there in the woods? Or killed? He’s a house cat. He’s never been outside before, not even to play in the backyard. Blinky’s a big bird watcher and doesn’t want to put the bird population at risk.”