Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“You left a message that you have my dog,” says a deep, attractive, and somewhat familiar voice. I look down at Bruce, who has his head on his paws and his eyes on me.
“Yes, he was on my front porch when I got home. He came into my garage after I pulled my car in, which I didn’t realize until after I shut the garage door. He scared me to death, but he’s sweet, and I didn’t want to put him back outside since he obviously belongs to someone,” I ramble.
“Shit. Sorry about that. He’s never taken off before,” he says, and I hear what sounds like a door slamming. “I just got in my truck. I’ll come get him. Where are you located?”
Why is his voice so familiar? Why do I think I know him? I shake my head and rattle off my address.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” He laughs.
“Pardon?”
“Never mind. I’ll be right there.” He hangs up, and my heart starts to race.
I look at Bruce. “No way.” When the doorbell rings not even a minute later, I tip my head back to face the ceiling and groan, hoping I’m wrong. When I drop my head forward, I watch Bruce get up. “You just had to belong to the guy next door, didn’t you?”
He barks in response, wiggling with excitement as he walks toward me. I rub his head and then pat my leg. “Come on. Your dad’s here to get you.”
He follows me to the door, then sits at my side as I swing it open.
Mr. Hottie from next door, now known as Tyler, smirks down at me from under the bill of his baseball cap. “Babe, you didn’t need to kidnap my dog just to get my attention,” he jokes.
I cross my arms over my chest while glaring at him and huff. “As if I want your attention.”
He laughs and looks down at Bruce, who hasn’t made a move toward him. His brows pull together, and he pats his leg. “Come on, bud.” Bruce moves only enough to turn his big head and lick my hand. “How long has he been over here?”
“Maybe an hour?” I shrug, placing my hand on Bruce’s furry head when he rests his heavy weight against my side. I scratch behind his ears. “Are you sure he’s yours? Maybe you’re trying to kidnap him before his real owner returns.” I smirk, and his eyes narrow on my mouth.
“He’s mine.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.” I shrug again, getting a kick out of annoying him as much as he annoyed me the last time we were in each other’s presence. Obviously Bruce is his; his name and number are on the tag.
He opens his mouth to reply, but Bruce barks, grabbing our attention, and gets up. I follow him through the living room and down the hall, and my eyes widen when he goes right to my bedroom door and lifts his front half off the ground. His big paw knocks down the L-shaped handle, and when his paws slide down the door, it swings inward. Mouse takes his opportunity to escape and flies from the room, zooming past Bruce and then me.
I dive for my cat and shout, “Shut the front door!” but miss him by a mile. I groan as I land on my knees, watching him escape with Bruce chasing after him right out the still-open front door and past a stunned Tyler. Before I’m prepared, I’m lifted right off the floor and tightly tucked into a warm chest that smells way too good. “Please tell me your dog isn’t going to eat my cat,” I say while tipping my head back to look into Tyler’s too-gorgeous eyes.
“I hope not,” he says in return, looking somewhat worried. I push away from him, swearing I feel his arms tighten before he finally lets me go. I step around his huge body and run out of the house and down the steps of my porch, with Tyler behind me.
I can hear a dog barking, so I run toward the sound. I make a left around the corner of my house and come to a sliding stop when I see Bruce. His paws are up on the ledge of an open window of Tyler’s house, and he’s barking at Mouse, who’s just out of reach and looking down at him.
“Shit, I forgot to shut the window after I finished painting that room,” Tyler says from my side.
I look up at him. “Really? It’s been open for a week. Someone could’ve broken in and stolen everything from you.”
“If you saw it’s been open, gorgeous, you should have said something,” he responds, making me feel guilty.
I look away, mumbling, “How was I supposed to know you didn’t leave it open on purpose?”
“Fuck, you’re cute.” He chuckles, grabbing my hand and dragging me with him toward the window. I try to pull away after a tingling sensation shoots through our connected hands and my belly, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, his hand tightens.