Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
His words were light-hearted, and I knew the man was happily married, but it still drove me absolutely nuts to see Naomi talking to some man who wasn’t me.
“Sean!”
My eyes went to Naomi’s face, and I relaxed slightly.
“Thought you were in the kitchen, baby,” I said.
Her smile was spectacular.
“I was, but then I saw this man.” She gestured toward Trance. “I heard he has a litter of puppies.”
My brows rose.
“A litter of puppies that cost about four thousand dollars a pop,” I informed her.
“Oh, no,” Naomi said excitedly. “Trance here tells me there’s a runt of the litter, one he doesn’t think will thrive in police work, and he offered him to me for free!”
Bullshit.
My eyes narrowed on Trance.
There was no way in hell that Trance would get rid of one of his dogs, even one of the runts, for free.
“Is that so?” I drawled.
Naomi nodded excitedly. “Yes! And he said I could have him. All I had to do was come pick him up!”
“Do you really think Butterfinger, the shithead, will allow you to have another dog?”
Naomi nodded. “Yes. She plays well with others. Brady made sure of that.”
I watched as Naomi’s features went soft as she thought about her old friend.
Brady’s murderer was confirmed to be Walton Whitley after his DNA was found at the scene. Apparently, the old man had put up quite the fight.
I smiled as I remembered the proud man.
Brady had left everything he had to us. His house. His car. His substantial nest egg. Everything he had to give, he gave to us. We’d expected his money would go to his son, but we were wrong—it hadn’t. Apparently, they hadn’t spoken in a very, very long time.
Of everything that Brady had left us, believe it or not, what I was most thankful for was Butterfinger.
Though the bitch was a bitch, pure and simple, I wouldn’t trade her for a damn thing in this entire world. She’d saved my woman’s life, and she’d brought her back from the brink of despair and had generally been one of the best dogs I’d ever had the privilege of meeting.
“Then we’ll get him,” I said resolutely. “Trance, we can stop by on the way home from Naomi’s mother’s next weekend, if that’s okay.”
Trance nodded once, and I gave him a look that clearly said I would be paying for the dog.
His lips twitched, and he likely would’ve said more had he not been called by his wife, who was having trouble with her struggling child.
“Can you please, for the love of God, take this kid so I can help the ladies get dinner on the table?”
Trance took the kid, he had to be about four or five now, and waved his wife on.
“Go on, I got him,” he said. “Don’t forget to save me some of that bread you made. You know how fast it goes.”
She gave him a thumb’s up and walked away without answering.
“Guess that’s my cue, too,” she said, getting up on her tippy toes and pressing a kiss to my jaw. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
I grunted.
“That’s what you said last time.”
She batted her eyes at me, and had she been slower, I would’ve caught her and told her just what I thought of that attitude of hers.
But she was fast, and showed not one ounce of pain any longer from the injuries she’d suffered, flouncing away as she tossed me a smile over her shoulder.
I was left, standing there, and watching Trance deal with his handful of a child, wishing that I could have that, too.
But it wouldn’t be any time soon…if at all.
***
My heart was still in my throat fifteen minutes later as I found my way to the secluded corner of the yard. Hoping for some peace and quiet as I tried to get my heart to let go of the past and move on.
Not many people knew this was here since it was so dark and far away, and that was the exact thing I was looking for right then.
I was startled to see one of the two chairs occupied, but I sat down anyway, tipped my beer to my lips, and drank.
I wasn’t really sure how the hell we got to talking, but I found myself telling the stranger, though he was a familiar stranger who I couldn’t quite place, all about my fears and worries.
“I can’t fucking breathe when she drives away from me,” I told this man who I didn’t even know. “Every time I watch her walk toward her car, I have a fuckin’ panic attack that she’s not going to come back.”
The man grunted.
“WW was a fucking douche. If he weren’t already close to dead, I’d kill him for you.”
My brows lifted.
“Who?”
His smile was small, but there.
“WW. The man responsible for hurting your wife.”