Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Kellen’s hazel eyes flash with ire as he looks back to the sweet dog soaking up his ministrations. “How about Princess? Because she’s going to be treated like one from here on out.”
My heart absolutely melts over his proclamation, and I actually get a little choked up. I cough to clear my throat. “That sounds perfect.”
He grins bigger and brighter, and holy hell, my knees almost buckle. He’s got a perfect dimple on each side of that smile.
A hot former Marine with hypnotizing eyes, muscles, tattoos, and dimples, who is a crusader for dogs?
I better be careful, or I might just fall in love.
CHAPTER 4
Kellen
With my attention trained on Bubba, sitting obediently in front of me with his focus on the treat in my hand, I say, “I expect you to be a role model for Princess, okay?”
His deep brown eyes speak volumes. Give me that treat, and I’ll do whatever you ask.
Grinning, I toss it to him. He snaps it from midair and swallows it just as quickly.
Princess stands to the side, curiously watching our exchange. She’s acclimated far better than I thought she would, but I’m giving all the credit to Bubba. After Abby shaved Princess’s fur yesterday, she looked like a completely different dog. Not just with all the tangles gone, but it was almost as if she was shedding her old life. Like the weight of misery had been lifted from her thin shoulders.
Princess was curious when we got home, exploring every inch of the house, and when we went out back, she rolled in the summer grass for half an hour. Within a few hours, she was walking more normally and even engaged in some tug-of-war with Bubba. The only downside was that she had no clue that it was inappropriate to potty inside, so we had two mishaps, luckily both in the kitchen and therefore easy to clean up.
The majority of yesterday was spent taking Princess out frequently, and heavily praising her every time she did her business in the grass rather than on my floor.
Last night, I made a soft blanket bed for her next to Bubba’s, but she ended up going to sleep on the cold tile of the master bath. I wondered if perhaps softness was just too foreign a concept for her and that she felt she only deserved a hard surface, but when I awoke this morning, I was shocked to find her curled up at the end of my bed.
I nudged her with my foot. “Hey… interloper… what do you think you’re doing?”
Her eyes opened, and her tail thumped the mattress, as if coyly expressing her naughtiness.
I laughed, although I did usher her off the bed and out into the yard for a morning potty along with Bubba.
Now I’m getting ready to leave them both alone so I can run some errands, most importantly to the pet store to stock up on supplies for her.
I have a kennel I bought a long time ago when Bubba first retired, now stored in the back shed. During the time I was his handler, he lived in the kennels on base and not at home with me. Once he retired and moved into my house, I kenneled him whenever I left for errands or appointments, but eventually that sort of fell by the wayside. He’s so well behaved that he never did anything destructive, so the crate ended up housing spiders instead.
I considered bringing it out and cleaning it up for Princess, because kenneling dogs at home is as much for their own safety as anything. However, knowing the miserable life she’s had—that Abby so passionately schooled me on—locked away in a cage, I didn’t have the heart to do it. I decided to hope and pray that Bubba will be a positive influence on her and that she’ll be a good girl when I step out.
Taking another treat from a bag on the counter, I hold it up before Princess, right above her nose. “Sit.” I push the treat toward her a bit so her head tips back, which forces her butt to the floor. “Good girl,” I praise as I slip her the little tasty.
Turning to Bubba, I put my hand under his chin and look at him eye to eye. “You’re in charge. You make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble, okay?”
His long tongue comes out and slaps my cheek. God, I fucking love my dog. Laughing, I scratch his head, then Princess’s. “Be back soon.”
In the car, I head to a strip mall not too far from my house. It’s where I do my grocery shopping, and it also has a small hardware store I’ve been to a few times. While I normally buy Bubba’s food, treats, and toys online, I need things today for Princess, and I spied a smaller chain pet store called Pet World on one of my prior visits. While Abby gave me food for Princess to get us through last night and this morning (as well as antibiotics for an infected cut on her back leg and eye drops to clear up some gunk), I need immediate essentials. A collar, leash, more food, bowls, a bed like Bubba’s so she’ll sleep there and not on mine, toys, medicated shampoo, and more training treats.