Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
I put my phone down and move to my front porch because I have too much energy to stay inside the cabin. The snowdrifts are pretty high, judging from what I can feel. But Frankie and Beans aren’t going to care about that. They still need space to work off some energy this morning. With that in mind, I grab a shovel and create a small path for them.
By the time I’ve worked up a sweat, my little fellows are itching to come out and play. I change Frankie’s diaper before I bring them out in their little snow booties. Beans does his business then the two of them roughhouse together.
I listen to their sounds with a smile on my face and wistfulness in my heart. I always thought I was happy alone with just my Frenchies for company, but in the last two weeks, I’ve realized how alone I really am. What would it be like to share my life with someone else? Someone who admittedly smells and sounds like a certain curvy thief.
With a start, I suddenly realize I left her alone for far too long. She could be far away from my little cabin by now. The thought fills me with panic, and I quickly call after Frankie and Beans.
Beans barks when they’re at the bottom step, alerting me to the fact that it’s time to pick them up. The disc disease that Frankie has is common with smaller dogs, and one of the best preventatives is not causing stress to their spines by jumping.
Once I learned that, I put ramps on my furniture. But I haven’t done that outside because a ramp would just get slick in the snow and is likely to cause them to take a tumble anyway.
“Listen, we’re going to make her fall in love with us,” I tell my pups as I pull them close to my chest. “So I need you guys to bring your A-game.”
They yip in agreement, and I smile. I may not be suave and polished, but it would be a strong woman who could resist the cuteness of my little duo.
“We’ve got this in the bag,” I tell them. I’m already thinking of that storage room at the back of my shop. It’s an oversized space with picturesque windows. I’ve had a couple of people try to rent it, but I’ve never been willing to do that even when the money offered was good. Now I know why. It’s the perfect art studio for my little thief.
She’s still in the bathroom when I come back in the house, and I breathe a little sigh of relief. I help them out of their winter gear and dry Frankie and Beans. Then I feel along Frankie’s harness, making sure it’s both dry and still securely attached to him. He was a little scared of the device at first, but now getting hitched up is his favorite part of the day. He can run and frolic again, just like his brother.
I think of what Laura said last night, about him being a lot of trouble. I wonder if he heard her words, if he comprehended them. Dogs are a lot smarter than most people give them credit for. “Don’t you worry. I’ll never let you go. Your dad is holding onto you.”
It strikes me as soon as I say it that those are promises I should have been given after the accident. Instead, I was plunged into a world of darkness without any family to support or comfort me.
Before I can muse on those thoughts for too long, the bathroom door swings open and a blast of humid air follows Laura into the room.
“Are Frankie and Beans OK?” She asks because I’m still on the floor next to them. The concern in her voice gives me hope that she’s already growing attached to the pair.
“They’re fine,” I quickly reassure her and rise to my feet. I can smell me on her. She must have used my shower gel and shampoo. The thought shouldn’t send such a caveman thrill through me, but it does.
My hands go around her hips, and it’s then I realize she’s not wearing my pants. She’s only in my long button-down. The material is soft and worn against my fingertips, her hips firm and wide as I give them an experimental squeeze.
She hasn’t moved away from me. No, if anything there’s a slight hitch in her breathing, and I bury my face against her neck. There it is. What I was searching for—the faint smell of vanilla underneath my scent. I find I like that even better. Now she’s covered in my smell with only hints of her natural scent underneath. It’s something that’s just for me. A part of her I don’t have to share with anyone.