Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d gone back into her own shower later, since I’d heard the water turn on, and reached down her body to work her clit to thoughts of me.
I had no idea, though.
“Make sure you make enough food for the guys,” I said when she couldn’t seem to think of something smart-assed to say.
With that, knowing I had the upper hand, knowing she would be plotting to find a way to take it from me, I made my way outside to spend some time with the dogs before breakfast.
“Say it,” I barked when I felt Marco’s eyes on me.
“Nothing, man. Just thinking that if she was my maid, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her either,” he said, shrugging it off.
“You keep your hands off of her, you hear me?” I said, gaze cutting over, and there must have been something fierce on my face then, because Marco straightened up.
“Hey, I know the rules, man. No touching the help,” he said, holding up his hands. “I gotta know, though.”
“Know what?” I asked, reaching down to rub the ears of one of my dogs.
“How you got your hands on her when you don’t even speak the same language,” he said.
“Don’t need to talk to be feeling someone,” I said, shrugging it off.
“Fair enough,” he said.
“She’s making eggs.”
“What kind of eggs?” he asked.
“Hopefully edible ones,” I said as I walked off.
As it turned out, it was nothing fancy. Scrambled eggs mixed with some spinach and cheese. And, sure, some of it was a little overcooked, but it was food. Better food than I’d expected from her, even.
“Oh, whoa,” she said after the guys all took their plates and headed outside, and sent the dogs in. “This is… this is a lot of dogs,” she said, backing herself against the fridge.
“They ain’t gonna hurt you,” I reminded her as all fourteen of them eyed her, likely picking up on her fear.
“Oh, um. Yes, hi. Hello. Okay, that’s a cold nose,” she yelped as a few moved closer, giving her a sniff, one of them rubbing her nose against Hope’s leg.
“You could pet them.”
“And encourage their encroaching on my personal space?”
“They’re dogs, not creeps at a bar,” I said as I gathered their metal bowls and started lining them all up on the island. “Half of your family have dogs.”
“Not fourteen of them,” she said as most of them moved away, disinterested in her lack of interest, and much more interested in my movements as I started scooping out kibble, distributing to each bowl, then going back for the toppings.
It was one dog who stayed there at her side.
Interestingly enough, it was Val, the dog I’d brought with me to her office when I’d had my meeting there.
“I remember you,” she said, looking down at him. His tail swished across the floor before he was jamming his head up under her hand, shameless in his quest for pets. “Oh, alright,” she said, rubbing his head. “Shit. What am I doing wrong?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, looking over.
“He’s grimacing at me.”
One glance had a chuckle moving through me. “He’s smiling,” I corrected.
“Dogs don’t smile,” she insisted.
“But they grimace?” I shot back. “He likes you. He’s smiling.”
For someone who claimed she wasn’t a big dog person, her hand sure stayed on his wide head, rubbing as he leaned into it, as his leg started to do the thing.
“What is all of that?” she asked as I scooped, sprayed, and dolloped food on top of the kibble.
“Toppers. Kibble is balanced, but not great on its own. Got some bone broth for hydration, salmon oil for their coats, pumpkin for their guts, and some carrots and green beans because vegetables are good for everyone,” I told her as I added the last of their standard ingredients.
At dinner time, they usually got some extra organ meat or sardines, maybe some yogurt, some fruit or veg, and any vitamins that their vet—one of Hope’s cousins—recommended.
“Your dogs eat better than I do,” Hope declared as I reached for the plate leftover from breakfast. The cheese wasn’t something I would give the dogs often, but once in a while was fine.
“Eat better than me too,” I admitted as I divvied out the eggs. “Grab some bowls and put ‘em down,” I said as I grabbed a few.
“Just… right in front of them?” she asked, looking anxious at the thought.
“You get mauled or something?” I asked.
“No. I mean… I’ve gotten bit on the job a few times, but nothing serious. Why?”
“Didn’t expect you to be so standoffish about ‘em is all,” I said, lining up a few bowls. “Just put them down. They won’t go to a bowl without permission,” I said, going back for a few more.
She looked dubious, but grabbed a few and set them around. All of them far away from her.