Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“I know it seems nonstop, but this will be a far-off memory at some point. You two will be best friends.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I replied as I yawned. “But I will take you up on a nap.” I felt as if I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a long time. I began to drag my feet toward my bedroom, and Yara called out to me.
“Wait!”
I turned to face her, and Feliz was snuggled up in her arms, trying so hard to lick her face. What kind of magic spell did she put on that dog? Then again, I couldn’t blame Feliz. I had a few moments over the past few days when I, too, thought of licking Yara Kingsley.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Come pet his head.”
“What? No.”
She nodded as she walked over toward me. The closer they drew, the more tense Feliz became as he released a low growl. Yara was still convinced, though. “Pet. His. Head, Alex.”
“He’s going to bite me.”
“He’s not going to bite you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re going to reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out the treat I stored for you to give to him.”
I arched an eyebrow. “He might still bite me.”
“No,” she disagreed, “he won’t.”
Feliz’s fangs told a different story. “But—”
“Alejandro,” she sang, and it felt good hearing my full name roll off her tongue. “Reach into my back pocket and get the treat out.”
I grumbled for a second yet did as she said. As my hand reached into the back pocket of her tight jeans, I had to remind myself not to linger too long to try to get a feel of her ass, which I’d found myself watching as she exited rooms lately.
I picked up the treat, then turned back to her. Feliz was already barking like mad, looking as if he wanted to drain every drop of blood from my system.
“Good boy,” she said. I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or the dog, but oddly enough, it turned me on.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Hold the treat in front of his nose.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “You mean in front of his teeth he’s baring at me?”
“Yup”—she nodded—“right there. Let him smell it.”
“But—”
“Do you trust me?” she asked.
Oddly enough, for no reason whatsoever, I did.
I waved the treat in front of Feliz’s nose. He paused for a moment and went back to barking. Then he stopped once more, smelled the treat, and lunged at me. Okay, he didn’t lunge at me, but he took the treat and ate it.
“There! Now, pet his head,” Yara instructed.
With haste, I pat the dog’s head three times.
One, two, three.
Feliz was too into his treat to realize what had just happened.
So food was the way to his heart, huh?
That was worth noting.
“Yesterday, I realized he had a way for treats. He’d pretty much let us do anything to him at the shop if treats were involved.”
“Maybe he and I have more in common than I thought,” I muttered. Right then, he finished his treat and tried to lunge back toward me. I leaped backward. “Geez!”
Yara giggled.
“That’s funny to you?” I questioned after almost losing my life from Cujo.
“A little. You’re so big, he’s so little, and you’re so…scared.”
“I’m not scared,” I argued.
Yara narrowed her eyes. “Swear?”
“Swear.”
She held Feliz out toward me, and I lurched backward, almost running straight into a wall.
Okay, maybe I was a little scared.
“I’m going to sleep,” I told her, muttering under my breath. Oddly enough, Yara appeared in my dreams, too.
The following days were wash, rinse, and repeat with Feliz. The only difference was I put up a gate at the guest bedroom, so the little rat was forced to look at me instead of closing his bedroom door. He might not have liked looking at me, but he would have to get used to me being around.
I also found myself online looking up recipes for dog treats I could make. The ingredients in the treats I’d found in the stores seemed to be filled with crap. I would never feed that to a human, so why would I feed it to my dog? My dog. I had a dog, and I was making the spoiled brat homemade treats. Along with homemade dog food, too.
“Here,” I said as I sat in front of the gate with him barking and hopping around like a Ping-Pong ball. “Shut up and just try it, will you?” I held the treat out toward him. A sweet potato soaked in gravy and wrapped with homemade jerky.
Feliz yipped but inched closer and closer until he ripped the jerky from my hand and hurried off to the opposite corner of his bedroom to eat in solitude.
“You’re welcome,” I replied.
He barked once my way before he went back to eating. The slight wag of his tail showed me he liked it. Then the grumpy jerk came back, barking at me but requesting more. The little shit.