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)
“He has a longer coat than Steve, though sometimes I have to put him in his jumper.”
“Boris has a jumper?” I’m regretting this more and more. I really didn’t think it through.
Lo stands and turns, holding up a camouflage print hoodie. “I think this suits his coloring perfectly.”
I look down at Steve. I don’t know why. Maybe hoping he’ll appear as horrified by the prospect of wearing a hoodie as I am by the prospect of being seen with him in one. The traitor looks totally unfazed. “I think he likes it,” I mumble absentmindedly, watching as Lo wrestles his little body into it. When she’s done, she stands and joins me, and we both look down at Steve, who’s looking up at us, his tail going wild.
“I think he does,” Lo confirms.
I hear a low, rough snigger and look up, finding a huge dude with a Rottweiler laughing his nuts off at Steve. Or me. My dick shrivels. “Let’s go.” I grab the trolley and march toward the front.
“Wait.” Lo grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop. “We need to get him a bed.”
“I gave him a bed last night. He ripped it to shreds.”
“That’s what pu . . . oh no.” Her attention drops to the floor. “Where’s Steve?”
My heartbeat accelerates as I spin around, searching for him. “Steve?”
“Oh God, we’re terrible parents.” Lo runs to the end of the aisle and looks left and right. “Steve!” She disappears, and I stand like a plum for a few moments, wondering whether to follow her or head the opposite way.
“Bollocks!” I abandon the trolley and jog off in the other direction, calling him, scanning left and right down each aisle I pass. I can hear Lo across the store, calling Steve as well, sounding as frantic as I feel. When I reach the end of the row of aisles, I skid to a stop, seeing Lo down the way. “Nothing?” I call.
“Nothing.” She looks stressed, and I can’t deny it, I’m fast going out of my mind with worry myself.
“Go to the entrance,” I yell, thinking we need to guard it in case he makes a bid for freedom. Lo shoots off toward the doors, and I retrace my steps, scouring the ground for any signs of a white blob. “Bloody hell,” I curse, my panic increasing with every second that he’s missing. Christ, there’s a main road outside, cars whipping up and down. He’ll be flattened. “Steve!” I reach up to loosen the tie around my neck, the panic wedging itself in my throat. “Steve!”
I pull to a stop when I hear a yappy bark. I haven’t had my new baby long, but I’d recognize that yap anywhere. I heard it enough last night when the little shit kept me awake. “Steve?” I swing around, listening carefully. I hear it again and start following the sound, the noise getting louder and louder. My mobile rings from my pocket, and I pull it out while I take tentative steps up the dog food aisle, planning on leaving it to ring off. But it’s Lo.
“Yeah?”
“Have you found him?”
“I can hear him.” I listen carefully again. There’s another yap, but for the life of me I can’t figure out where it’s coming from. “He’s somewhere in the food aisle, I think.”
She hangs up, and I drop to my hands and knees, the sound louder the lower I get to the ground. “Steve?” I peek under the shelving unit and come face to face with a white paw sticking out from beneath. “Steve!” Pushing my cheek to the ground, I look through the little gap. “How the hell did you get in there?” He yaps in return, sounding traumatized.
“What are you doing down there?”
I look up, being greeted by Lo’s legs. My mouth momentarily falls open. I’ve never paid much attention to her legs. She has good ones.
“Luke?”
I get my wandering eyes under control and force my gaze to her concerned face. “He’s trapped.” I push myself to my knees and start pulling off the huge bags of dog food from the bottom shelf. “God knows how he got in here.”
Lo joins me, looking through the gaps in the shelves. “Hey boy, we’re here now.”
Steve starts whining, distressed. “Fucking hell,” I grunt, hoofing off a giant bag of dog biscuits. I’m fucking sweating.
“Come on, Steve.” Lo reaches through the gap I’ve made, coaxing Steve out. “I’ve got him.” She pulls him out and cradles him to her chest. I breathe a sigh of relief, panting like a bitch, as I move in and join her fussing over him.
“Steve, you scared the shit out of me.” I drop my face onto his head and breathe in his puppy smell. “Don’t do that again.” It’s then I realize that my head is practically on Lo’s chest, and not for the first time, I notice how good she smells. It’s so subtle and sweet . . . just like her. Our eyes meet, and we both smile. It’s a smile of relief . . . I think.