Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I pulled up and parked, grabbed my bag, and made my way to the door.
And it didn’t quite occur to me that the key hadn’t met any resistance in the lock until I pushed the door open and understood that it hadn’t been locked.
Because someone had picked it.
And that someone was standing in my kitchen with a bunch of fucking reusable black grocery bags. Dressed as a, well, pest control guy.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
Surely, I’d meant to say What the fuck are you doing here?
Right?
“Oh, this,” he said, patting his name tag that proudly boasted Clark in thick, uppercase print. Like he’d done it with a permanent marker. “I keep this in my collection just in case I need it. Along with a lawn service outfit. And a delivery man uniform too.”
“And you’d need those for…”
“Doing illegal shit like breaking into the guest house on a rich guy’s estate. See, the thing is, if you put a uniform on, no one fucking looks at you twice. Which probably says something really depressing about our society as a whole, but it works in my favor.”
“Okay. Well, onto the next thing, why the hell did you break into my place?”
“You didn’t leave the door open. How else was I supposed to get in?”
“How about not entering someone’s home without their permission?” I suggested, moving inside and closing the door.
To keep the warm air in.
I’m not paying to heat the whole neighborhood, Theodora.
“Kind of kills the spontaneity of the whole thing, don’t you think?”
“What whole thing?”
But it was right about then that there was a crash, a squealing sound, and then footsteps.
But they weren’t footsteps at all.
They were little hoof steps.
I knew that because a second later, a little black and gray piglet came tear-assing out of my bathroom like the devil himself was on his cute little corkscrew tail.
“What the fuck?” I gasped, glancing between Dezi and the pig over and over, not sure what was more shocking at that moment.
“Surprise,” Dezi said, giving me a self-satisfied little smirk as he folded his arms across his chest.
“Why do you look so smug? Why the hell is there a pig in my house?”
“Come on. Pick her up.”
“I’m not picking her up,” I objected, even as my heart did a little squeeze in my chest as she came out from behind my chair making little grunting noises.
“See? She loves you,” Dezi declared. “Don’t you want to touch her big fucking nose?”
“Dezi… what the fuck is going on?” I asked, barely resisting the urge to drop down to the ground and reach for her to boop that cute fucking nose.
“I thought you needed a friend,” he decided. “And we’ve already established that mini animals are the best animals. So… mini pig. Come on, she wants to say hi,” he said, losing his patience with me and walking across the room to scoop her up and bring her over to me. “She still needs a name. Petunia is too overdone,” he informed me. “So is Penelope. I am going to need you to be more creative than that.”
“Clearly, she should be called Rosita,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. “By her actual owners.”
“You are her actual owner,” he insisted. “See?” he asked, trying to reach into his back pocket, but the piglet squealed and tried to get away. “Here. Hold her,” he demanded, then plopped her into my arms before I could object, leaving me with no choice but to take her and hold her against my chest as he picked some rolled-up paperwork out of his back pocket and flattened it against his own chest, facing me.
“See right here? Under owners. It says your name. Mine too because I picked her up. So I guess we are co-parents,” he said, looking between the pig and me. “She clearly resembles her daddy more than her mama,” he decided, nodding. “And now I have a name to put on that line instead of Girl Pig 2,” he said, grabbing a pen out of his pocket as well and finishing out the paperwork. “What’s that from anyway?”
“Sing,” I said, frowning at him.
“Sing?”
“You know, the movie. The kid movie. Rosita is the pig.”
“You are full of surprises,” he declared since, yeah, what normal, red-blooded, childless woman sat and watched kid movies, right? “See? You love her,” he declared as I started to rub her head.
“I am trying to keep her calm,” I insisted. “So you can take her back to wherever you got her from.”
Though I was pretty sure he would have to pry her out of my arms right then.
Because, despite all my objections to the contrary, I absolutely wanted her.
I mean, how could you not?
It was like not wanting a puppy that was thrust into your arms.
But that didn’t mean I could have her.
“What’s the hold up?” Dezi asked.