Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 168701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 844(@200wpm)___ 675(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 844(@200wpm)___ 675(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
He runs off the porch steps and I follow, filling my lungs with the humid air and feeling like every blade of grass, every leaf or willow branch is speaking to me all at once. I walk toward the weeping willow tree and relishing the feel of the wet blades of grass under my feet, press my hands against the trunk.
Energy pulses in the air, wanting me to play.
The wind picks up and he barks at me. Once. Sharply.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He barks again and headbutts me.
“What is it, Scooby?”
He barks and I back up. He headbutts me again in the lower belly and then bites the hem of my skirt and tugs gently.
“What?” I ask.
He backs up slowly and I follow, hoping my dress doesn’t rip.
He does this until I’m back on the porch steps.
He then walks away from me, sniffing the ground as he goes, then he lifts his leg and pees. There are tooth punctures in the hem of my dress. I sigh and turn my gaze skyward. The sky is gray, dark, wet, and the air feels so good. I lift my arms out wide and tilt my head back and just soak in the feeling. Everything is fresh, crisp, almost feels… new.
The wolf sniffs the ground and then pees again a little. A strange, spiced, almost floral fragrance fills the air.
I watch as the wolf takes a few steps, then lifts his leg again. And then he repeats it. A few steps. A tinkle. A few more steps. Another sprinkle.
He’s clearly marking some territory or something, which is strange as this is Tyson’s place. Though Riley and Tyson are close and from what I know of this pack, their wolves should be close, too.
Yet Riley’s wolf is marking as he moves around the cabin’s perimeter. He keeps going, getting to a garage not far from the cabin and goes behind it. I wait a few minutes until he appears again, coming from the other side, trotting happily back up to the porch and then looking over his shoulder at me as if to ask, are you coming?
I get the door opened and follow him back inside.
***
It’s dark now and Riley’s wolf is on the couch beside me, his head in my lap as I stare at the fire I made in the wood stove. It’s still raining and there’s a slight chill in the air. I put a bowl of water down for him and he drank some and has seemed content.
I don’t know when Riley is planning on showing his face again here and it’s getting late, so I’m hungry.
“Do you want some food?” I ask.
The wolf lifts his head, so I get up. He puts his chin down on the couch and just his eyes follow me as I move to the kitchen, looking back at him.
“I was thinking of more lasagna, but that’s probably not your thing, is it?” I look into the fridge. “They brought us a cooked rotisserie chicken. How about some of that?” I take it out and take the lid off.
He doesn’t seem interested.
“Then maybe some more of that gooey, cinnamon cake. God, that’s good. I could have that for my birthday cake every year from now on and be so stinkin’ happy…” I sigh.
I warm up some lasagna and pour myself a glass of wine from a bottle of unopened wine I find in the fridge. It’s golden, crisp, sweet, and delicious. I examine the label. Quinn-tessential Honeymoon Reserve.
“Ooh, this is good.” Then it dawns that whoever sent it probably figured me and Riley would drink it together. As part of a romantic dinner.
“Guess I can have a romantic dinner with Riley’s wolf if nothing else,” I say, “So far, you’re better company anyway.”
His tail thumps in response.
“He’s kinda grumpy. And not much of a conversationalist. Though I guess that’s down to the company he’s forced to keep for the week.”
The microwave beeps and I set my plate on the table.
“Yeah, I know – self-deprecation isn’t endearing. But you try living in this head of mine for seven years. Do you want some chicken?” I ask, plucking some off the bone and putting it in a bowl on the floor beside his water dish.
He watches me do this but doesn’t come over.
“No? Okay,” I say. “It’s there if you change your mind.”
He jumps down off the couch and goes to the door and paws it.
I open it up and let him out. He runs off, fast.
“Oh,” I mutter to myself.
And then I go to the table and eat, not remotely enjoying the solitude, though I do enjoy the wine and pour myself a second glass.
The rain picks up and hits hard. After I finish eating, I wash my dish, clean up the mugs and cutlery in the sink, and then take the opportunity to change the sheets properly and put a clean blanket from the armoire over the couch.