Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Once they dumped all that in the living room, she wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, then scrubbed her palms down her jeans.
With a sigh and hands on her hips, she stared toward the kitchen. “I guess the next stop is the grocery store.”
“Not tonight.”
“No, not tonight. Though, that made me hungry.”
“Go ahead and eat anything about to expire. Fletch said you can throw out anything already past its ‘use by’ date.”
“I’ll do that. But anything I eat, I’ll replace.”
“Here’s a helpful tip. If it’s furry, don’t eat it.”
With a soft cry, the big dog leaned into him and he had to adjust his stance so he wouldn’t be knocked over. His fingers automatically dug into the fur at Murphy’s neck to give it a good scratch.
“Aw, Murph, he wasn’t talking about you.”
“Jesus, he’s heavy enough to knock me over.”
“He weighs more than me.”
He didn’t doubt that.
She pulled in a deep breath. “Anyway, thanks for this.”
He tipped his head.
“I’ll put a good word in with my dad.” The corners of her lips twitched.
“Great,” he muttered.
It was time for him to go. This was officially her space and he was considered a guest now.
“See you at 0800 in the morning.” He headed toward the door.
“Hey,” she called out just as he reached it.
He paused and turned.
“I still need to find a local dog walker I can trust. Do you mind if I bring Murphy with me tomorrow?”
“It’s a task force headquarters, not a stable.”
“He sleeps most of the day.”
His gaze dropped to the dog at her side, then returned to her face. Was she holding her breath?
That dog must mean a lot to her. Almost as much as his kids meant to him.
He pinned his lips together and nodded. “Fine. As long as he doesn’t create chaos and a mess.”
A smile lit up her face, making his heart thump wildly.
What the actual fuck?
“Murphy and I appreciate it. He’ll be an angel, I promise.”
“He better be,” Crew muttered and pulled open the door. “Lock up and set the alarm.”
“Yes, boss,” was the last he heard right before it closed behind him.
For fuck’s sake.
Chapter Seven
As soon as he opened the door to the third floor, he did a double-take. He had forgotten it was “bring your pony to work” day.
Cabrera’s Irish Wolfhound took his time getting up from the dog bed next to her chair. Murphy stretched his huge body, yawned, then lumbered his way over to Crew.
When the dog got to him, the canine nudged his hand and gave him “poor me” eyes.
“He wants you to pet him,” the dog’s owner explained, as if Crew wasn’t already aware of that.
“Thanks for clarifying. I thought he was panhandling,” he said dryly.
“You know, that’s a good idea. I should teach him to do that. I can hang a sign around his neck and have him guilt people into giving him a buck. He really needs to start chipping in toward his bills.”
“I bet his dog food alone costs a fortune,” Decker said from where he sat in front of one of the desks on the other side of the room.
Cabrera shrugged. “He’s worth it.”
Crew headed over to the coffeemaker, thanked the coffee gods for the full, fresh pot, grabbed his mug and filled it to the brim. After taking a long sip, he turned and almost tripped over the big galoot. “Can you keep him contained?”
“Murphy!” she called out and pointed to his fleece bed.
The big, fuzzy gray dog glanced around unbothered, then lumbered his way back over to her, before turning three times in place and settling with a loud groan.
Life must be really fucking tough for that dog.
Crew headed back over to her. “Are you still reading the daily reports?”
When she turned her deep brown eyes up to him, they held a gleam he wasn’t sure he liked. “Since I want to be a team player and until the boss gives me another assignment, I’m doing what the boss told me to do.”
“Stop calling me the boss,” he growled and downed another mouthful of much-needed caffeine.
She leaned back in her chair, locking eyes with him. “Isn’t that what you are?”
“Calling me Crew is fine.”
“Crewella, J. Crew, Crewser, Motley Crew, any of those work, too,” came from Finn, scrolling through some recorded footage. “Or come up with your own.”
“I’m sensing a theme around here. Is it a competition to come up with the craziest nickname?”
“You could say that,” Decker answered.
“I guess we need to come up with one or two for you,” Finn told her. “Cami-sole is a good start.”
“It’s not a task force thing,” Crew clarified, glaring at Finn, “it’s a Blue Avengers thing.”
“Aaaah. So, once I become a Blue Avenger, I’ll qualify for the fun nicknames.”
“Are you thinking about getting a bike?” Mullins asked.