Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“How about I just give you the extra key and you tell me when you want me to show up?” I say, already reaching for my back pocket.
“Really? You trust me with the keys to your business?”
If things were different—if she weren’t my sister-in-law and I wasn’t leaving town—I’d trust her with a lot more than that, but I don’t say that. I say, “Of course. You’re ninety percent goody-two-shoes, only ten percent chaos.”
She grins. “But that ten percent really is a pain in the ass, isn’t it? Are you still glad you took Bella? She clearly adores you, but things could get tricky for you if she really is some kind of magical creature who can walk through bars at will.”
“She can’t walk through bars at will. I probably just didn’t latch the crate right the first time.”
“But you latched it this time, right?” Starling asks. “When you put her back inside?”
“I did,” I assure her.
“She’s standing in the doorway behind you.”
I turn with a curse, making her laugh.
“Maybe the carrier is defective,” she says. “I’ll bring over Keanu’s old one when we meet up tomorrow. He rides in his basket in the car now, so he never uses it. Hopefully, that will solve the problem.” She steps into her slippers, grinning at me as she grabs her keys from the coffee table. “I had a great time. Thanks for the memory, sweet serving boy.”
“My pleasure, princess,” I murmur, lifting a hand as she waves and moves toward the front door, a big smile on her face.
And that’s what I’ll focus on for the next few weeks—keeping that smile on her face and enjoying every stolen moment together. I’ll worry about how much it’s going to hurt to say goodbye later, when Bella and I are far away in Minneapolis, and no one can see me moping over the one who got away.
Chapter Thirteen
STARLING
The next morning, I wake from a dream featuring Christian, his motorcycle, and some kinky side-of-road sex, the grin on my face so wide it hurts a little.
“I did it, guys,” I tell the animals, who are back in bed with me again, making me wonder if I’ll be able to get Kyle back on the floor in his bed when we return home tonight. “I am now a fully-fledged sex goddess with a well-fucked vagina.”
Keanu gargles thumbtacks deep in his throat—Barrett should get that growl checked by the vet again, it sounds like it’s getting worse—and Kyle emits an outraged gobble.
“Too bad,” I say, lifting my arms over my head for a luxurious, full-body stretch. “I don’t care if you don’t like that kind of talk. I’m going to say ‘vagina’ as much as I want and have as much sex as I want and not think about how sad I’m going to be when Christian takes his cock away. Like my mama always said—don’t ruin the present with worry about the future. Now, who wants breakfast?”
Kyle hits me in the face with his wing in his haste to get to the door and Keanu leaps off the edge of the bed with a flourish of his hairless tail. They might not like my sex talk, but my excitement for the day ahead is clearly contagious.
By eight-thirty, they’ve already had breakfast and are chasing each other around the yard, making such a ruckus, I’m not surprised when Nora’s head appears over the side of the fence.
“Morning,” I say, lifting my coffee her way from my spot on the back porch. “Sorry, are they being too loud? Did they wake you?”
“Oh no, I’ve been up for a while,” she says. “But they let me know that you were up. Can I come over for a quick second? I have something I want to show you.”
“Totally,” I say, standing. “Meet me in the kitchen, I’ll grab you a cup of coffee.”
I head inside, but Nora’s so quick I barely have time to fetch a mug from the cabinet before she’s joined me by the sink. As usual, she looks flawless, her hair falling in perfect glossy waves and her outfit quirkily adorable. Today, she’s wearing what looks like a vintage long-sleeved miniskirt dress with a swirling pattern of fall colors paired with knee-high brown boots. I, meanwhile, am still in my pajamas and haven’t gotten around to googling a dry cleaner who takes costume pieces.
“I’m going to get the princess dress dry-cleaned, by the way,” I say as I pour her a mug of coffee from the French press. “I’ll take it in on Monday and hopefully have it back to you by Friday.”
“Oh, you don’t have to, I can wash it by hand, I have a method,” she says. “I’ll just take it with me when I go.”
“No, I insist,” I say. “I got it all dusty at the fair and I like to clean up my own messes.”