Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Sure. We’re buds now.” Harley smiled, but I groaned.
“I’m right here, you know.” I was a little peeved at how they were making plans without consulting me.
“I know.” Harley turned his smile on me, a little softer than the one he’d had for Cressida, and somehow that calmed me back down, almost as much as petting Hercules. “And I hate to do it, boss, but I should probably sneak the pooch back on out of here.”
“Yes, we don’t want you in trouble,” Cressida added, undoubtedly relieved that she wasn’t the one with dog babysitting duty.
“Oh, I’m used to trouble.” From anyone else, that might be a flirty statement, but from Harley, it was more matter-of-fact. He scooped up Hercules, who amazingly went without a peep. “You take care of yourself now. Rest up. Your buddy will be fine. Promise. Even rustled him up some breakfast.”
“Hercules ate for you?” Cressida’s well-groomed eyebrows shot up toward her high ponytail. “Regular dog food?”
“Sure did. Why? He got allergies? Sorry—”
“Don’t apologize. He’s just famously picky.” I had to laugh, which made my sides hurt. Some sort of tape was wrapped around my ribs, and I was hoping nothing was broken. “Organic, human-grade refrigerated food or nothing.”
“Huh. Not for me.” Harley looked down at Hercules, who indeed seemed perfectly content being wrapped in Harley’s hoodie.
“You must have the magic touch,” Cressida said knowingly. And I had to agree. Harley was magic, all right, and he had more than Hercules in the palm of his hand.
Chapter Four
Harley
“No, no burger for you.” I’d apparently reached the talking to the dog portion of being bored. He offered me a pitiful look as I polished off my burger, so I gave in and fed him the last crumb of the bun. He sure was a funny thing.
I was not a little dog person. Growing up, we’d always had a big friendly mutt or two around the house, but my siblings would laugh themselves sick over the idea of me with a toy dog. My brothers, who owned a garage, each had large black lab mixes, and my sister and her house of boys had twin dalmatians to add to the chaos. Ambrose’s teeny pup hardly classified as canine. Didn’t even have fur other than the weird little tufts. But there was something cute about him. Sweet even, not that I’d own up to that. He’d slept all night on my chest like a small, noisy personal heater.
After her arrival at the hospital, Cressida had sent me periodic updates, but Hercules and I hadn’t gone far from the parking lot on the off chance they’d let Ambrose have his dog after they were done poking and prodding him. He had a concussion, badly bruised ribs, a few stitches, and a lot of bumps, but otherwise, he got lucky. Could have been way worse. A shiver raced up my spine. I’d been so damn close to being too late.
But I couldn’t let myself dwell on the close call. Ambrose being allowed to leave the hospital without a second night’s stay was a major win. As Hercules and I finished up our very late lunch, Cressida messaged that Harley was being discharged. Toting the dog with me, I went to wait near the hospital entrance so Hercules could greet his owner. It was a typical small-town hospital with only one main entrance. The ER staff the night before had been overburdened and understaffed. I understood why they hadn’t wanted to deal with the dog, but Hercules sure did seem important to Ambrose, so sticking around hadn’t been a burden.
Sure enough, Ambrose beamed as soon as he spotted the dog and me.
“You’re still here!” He held out his hands for the dog. A curly-haired nurse wheeled him out per hospital policy, and I didn’t kid myself that his enthusiastic greeting was for me. Nope, that was all for the ten-pound pooch currently covering his face with dog kisses.
“Promised your sister I’d check out your place, remember?” I said after the nurse left Ambrose to his doggie reunion. “But I figured Herc here would rather ride with you.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind.” Ambrose smiled while Cressida made a face. Probably didn’t want the dog smell in her shiny Benz SUV. Too Bad. Ambrose clearly needed time with his dog, resettling himself after his ordeal.
“I’ll see you at your place.” I turned to go, but Ambrose held up a hand.
“Wait.” He stood, more steady on his feet than I would have thought. “Cressida, you’re dead on your feet. Go home and sleep. If you’re serious about Harley checking out my house, I can just ride with him.”
“I should stay with you tonight.” Her mouth thinned. Without her usual gloss and makeup, she looked even more tired, with deep lines around her eyes and mouth. Ambrose was right. She needed to rest.