Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Honestly, I can’t imagine him with any dog. Or any living, breathing thing, for that matter.
The dog wanders over to the pool edge and starts drinking from it.
“Oh, be careful, little dude. You don’t want to fall in,” I say, curling my fingers around the railing.
Dogs can swim, right? And should it even be drinking from the pool? The chlorine could make it sick.
River really shouldn’t be letting his dog wander about the garden like this when he’s got a pool. He should cover the pool or at least come outside with the dog while it does its thing.
And maybe give it fresh water, so it doesn’t need to drink out of the pool.
I see the dog edge closer to the pool, my heart rate picking up a little, and the yell comes out of my mouth at the exact same time the dog falls into the pool.
“Oh no!”
I watch for a few seconds … and the dog isn’t swimming.
I thought all dogs could swim?
Apparently not. Because this dog is struggling to keep its head above water.
“Fudging heck! I’m coming, little dude! Hold on!” I move quickly on bare feet, running down my porch steps and onto the grass.
I run across the garden, heading for the fence that separates our houses, right to the spot where I know there’s a gap in the fence.
I saw the broken boards the other day when I was out here, digging up weeds.
Grabbing the boards, I shove them aside and squeeze myself through the tight gap. “I’m almost there, little dude!” I yell to the sound of the panicked barks coming from the pool. “Hold on!”
I race through River’s big garden, through a flower bed—sorry, flowers, but there’s a dog’s life at stake here—and straight for the pool.
The poor dog is now in the middle of the pool, frantically trying to keep afloat.
Almost there.
A few seconds later, I reach the pool, and without another thought, I jump straight in.
Cool water rushes me as I go under.
Sweet Lord, that feels good.
I surface and quickly swim over to the dog.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I say in a calming voice as I reach out and take hold of the dog. Hugging it to my chest, I tread water. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
The dog looks up at me with big doe eyes and then licks my face in thanks, I think.
“Well, you are very welcome.” I laugh softly.
“What the fuck are you doing in my pool?” a voice booms, startling me.
Carrie
My head snaps up to find my grumpy-ass neighbor standing at the pool edge, glaring down at me. Big, tattooed arms folded over his huge chest, a white T-shirt straining over his biceps, faded jeans on his legs.
“And, with a”—he squints at the wet bundle in my arms—“fucking dog. What the hell are you doing in my pool with a dog?”
“You mean, your dog,” I uncharacteristically snap as I start to swim, one-armed, toward him, keeping hold of the dog with my other arm. “That I just saved from drowning. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“I don’t have a fucking dog,” he snarls, bringing me to a stop close to the edge of the pool.
Hellfire, he’s even bigger up close.
“Do you have to curse so much?” I say to him.
Those dark eyes glower down at me. “Yes, I fucking do.”
Okay then.
“So, this dog isn’t yours?”
“Nope.” He lets the P pop.
I look down at the little cutie in my arms. “Well, whose dog is it?” I ponder.
“How the hell should I know?”
Ignoring his grumpiness, I ask, “Do you think it’s a stray?”
“Why don’t you ask me the more pertinent question?” His voice is a dark rumble, making my arms break out in goose bumps.
I look up at him. “Which is?”
“If I care. Which I don’t, if you haven’t already figured that out, Red.”
Red?
Oh, my hair.
I roll my eyes. “How original,” I scoff. Then, I move close to the pool steps. I put the dog down on the poolside and haul myself out of the water. I’m dripping everywhere.
And the dog has already moved and is now sniffing around River’s feet, which are bare.
He has quite nice feet. Why I’m noticing that, I’ll never know.
My eyes lift to see him scowling down at the dog, which gives me a chance to properly look at him for the first time.
He towers over me. I’d say he’s about six-three at least. Way taller than me, and I stand at five-six. I still can’t pin an age on him, but if I had to guess, I’d say twenty-eight or twenty-nine. He’s better-looking closer up than I realized. I mean, I knew he was good-looking, but up close, he’s impossibly handsome.
The kind of handsome that everyone notices. I can’t imagine any woman or man not finding him attractive with his wavy dark copper hair, sharp jaw covered in stubble, dark eyes overhung by frowning eyebrows, long, dark lashes, high cheekbones, and perfectly straight nose.