Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
“Didn’t I tell you once that you’re a terrible liar?” I ask softly, crouching down on the other side of her desk and resting my forearms on the wood. I bring my chin to my arms and prop it there, smiling when she flicks me a cautious look. “It won’t take long, I promise. And I’ll drop you home. Or at the end of your street.”
She’s mulling it over. I can see her mind whirling, her teeth nibbling the inside of her cheek. “I can’t be late.”
“You won’t be late,” I assure her.
“Okay.” She breathes out her agreement, but it’s not a tired agreement, like she’s exasperated by my persistence. It’s an accepting agreement. She wants to help me.
“What time do you finish?”
“Five thirty.”
“I’ll be here.” I raise and lean over the desk, planting an over-the-top smacker on her cheek. “See you then.” I swagger away, pleased as punch, hearing Lo giggling quietly as I go.
I can’t wipe the grin off my face all the way back down to the foyer. I spot Peter with the landlord of the building and divert toward them, handing him the blueprints as I pass. “Seems like you have everything under control,” I say, getting on my way.
Chapter Seventeen
I sail through the rest of my afternoon back at the office. Steve’s been curled up on the couch, sleeping soundly. Seems like that walk in the park with Sam wore him out.
Collecting my briefcase and my dog, I head out, looking forward to seeing Lo. Once again, I let Steve ride the journey on my lap, since the little shit refuses to stay put in his own seat.
When I pull up outside Sharman House at five thirty, I spot Lo waiting outside, her shoulders high, her hands burrowed deeply in the pockets of her fur coat. She sees my car and scuttles over, and I crank the heating up to make it warmer for her.
She swings the door open and drops into the seat, turning to face me. I grin from ear to ear and hold up my new friend. “Meet Steve,” I announce proudly. “Steve, this is my friend Lo.”
“Oh my God.” Lo seizes him from my hands and cuddles him to her chest, fussing over him in a way that makes me feel slightly envious. What’s a man got to do to get such genuine affection like that? Piss on her? I frown to myself. “You got a dog?” Lo looks at me, stunned. “I can’t believe you got a dog.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” I lie through my teeth then pull out as Lo wrestles to get her seatbelt on.
“You don’t seem like a dog man to me.”
I can’t hide my injured expression. “What does a dog man look like?” I ask, truly intrigued.
“I don’t know,” she admits, settling Steve on her lap. “This is your big secret?”
“Yep.”
“So what do you need my help with?” She looks across the car at me, and I peek out the corner of my eye.
“A bit of shopping. Where’s the nearest pet store?”
Lo laughs, and I savor the sound of it, admiring her from across the car—how happy she sounds. How happy she looks. And I realize that my heart is happier too. Her smile. Her laugh. Somehow, at some point, that has become so very important to me. And the past week was hard. But, I fear, nowhere near as hard as it was for Lo.
“And one of these,” Lo says, dumping a squidgy toy on top of the piles of stuff in my arms. “And some of these.” She collects down a box of—
“What are they?” I ask, losing sight of her when the box lands in front of my face.
“Puppy pads,” she declares. “Steve will have plenty of accidents.”
“You can put puppies in nappies?” I ask, astounded. Well, shit, that’s all my problems solved.
Lo laughs and removes the box blocking me from view. “They’re not nappies, Luke. They’re like mats. Steve will pee on them instead of your floor.” She heads off to another aisle, Steve tucked neatly under her arm. “You’re so clueless; it’s adorable.”
Clueless? “That’s a bit harsh,” I grumble, following her. I’m the CEO of my own bloody company. That’s not clueless.
“Oh, Steve, now we get to do the exciting bit.” She kneels on the floor, placing Steve down with her, and rummages through—
“Are they clothes?” I gawk at the rail of full-on outfits, jumpers and . . . “Shoes?” Is she kidding?
“He needs to keep warm.” She carries on rootling, not giving the panic in my voice any attention at all. “It’s freezing out there.”
“I’ve not seen Boris in clothes.” A shop assistant passes me with an empty trolley, and I jump in his path, stopping him. “I’ll take that, mate.” I drop the piles of stuff into the cart and give my concerned attention back to Lo.