Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Lou moved, but his eyes never left mine.
“You’re a failure,” I said. “Why would I buy you an ice cream cone when you failed?”
Lou gave me a pitying look.
“No.” I refused to give him a lick. Not after the embarrassment he’d just put me through. “How hard would it have been to sit and lay down?”
He didn’t answer.
“We’ve been working on this shit for weeks, Lou,” I told him. “Seriously, all you had to do was sit. Lay down. Leave it. And then roll over. That’s all!”
Lou blinked at me and then turned away from me to stare out his open window.
I sighed and then stopped gently at the stoplight, careful not to throw the big beast forward.
And he was big. And a beast.
He was over a hundred and thirty pounds of muscled stubbornness, and I loved him with my whole heart.
He was my friend, my confidant. He was all I’d ever need out of life, and I appreciated him every single second that he graced my life with his presence.
Until, that was, two hours ago, when he’d failed his obedience training class.
He’d embarrassed me by doing not one single thing I asked him to, and the entire time he looked at me like I’d betrayed him.
So, I’d forgotten his favorite treats at home and had to settle for the off brand that the store offered. My bad!
But, apparently, Lou didn’t give one shit about the fact that I’d already been late from work.
He didn’t care that I was in a hurry.
All he cared about was the fact that I didn’t follow through, and he wasn’t going to follow through on his end out of spite.
The big bastard.
Just as I was about to continue with the scolding that Lou had coming, I watched in astonishment as Lou whimpered, placed both large paws on the ledge of the window, and vaulted straight out of the car.
I gasped, immediately watching where the big bastard went, and then pulled over, cutting off two other cars, and parked illegally. Half on the curb, half off the curb, I bailed out of my car.
“Louis Kuntz!” I yelled my dog’s full name, knowing that would make him change his tune. “Get your furry butt back over here!”
Then I stopped, realizing I’d just left my brand-new car—though it was a Corolla and nothing special—parked illegally with my bag, keys, and cell phone planted in the seat for anyone to come upon.
I moaned and turned back, hauling ass back to my car.
“Move!” I bellowed, not realizing that I’d just said that to a cop.
Instead, I barreled past him to get into my car, yanked the keys out of the ignition, and slammed it shut in the next instant.
Once I beeped it locked, I took back off after my dog, only to come up short when I saw the damn dog sitting there, looking at me like I was stupid.
And he had my ice cream cone in his mouth.
“You little asshole,” I growled.
“Ma’am?”
I ignored whoever was talking to me and instead stared at the traitor in front of me.
“You’re going to Hell, you know,” I informed the dog. “All dogs go to Heaven my ass. You’re going straight to Hell, and in Hell, they won’t have ice cream cones.”
My dog burped, and I closed my eyes in agitation.
“Ma’am, here.”
I turned just in time to see a large chest taking up my vision.
The man was wearing a tight brown shirt. It had white buttons that ran up the middle, and a bright shiny badge settled right over the man’s heart.
My mouth went dry.
Instead of looking up at the face that was attached to the vest, I looked down at the man’s tight pants.
Have you ever seen a man in baseball pants? How tight they are, and how they leave very little to the imagination?
Well, these pants were much the same. And they were covered from foot to just below the knee with bright, shiny black boots that looked like they were polished within an inch of their life.
Oh, and let’s not forget about the way that gun belt really brought out the bulge in his pants where his other, more yummy, attributes lay.
“Ma’am?”
I finally looked up past the collarbone and found myself absolutely stunned speechless.
Oh, God.
He had a beard. Not a full-blown one, but one that clearly showed that he couldn’t care less if he shaved or not.
Then there were his white teeth that very clearly had braces on them at one point in time.
Luckily that was all I could see besides his full lips.
He was wearing a white helmet and those aviator shades that were so popular now-a-days.
But then he had to go and ruin my day by taking them off, and showing me exactly what I didn’t have in my life.
He hooked them in the collar of his shirt before taking his helmet off moments later.