Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Hey,” I say as I pull the door open, then gasp when a huge brown ball of fur lunges toward me, making a chuffing noise.
“Tutu, sit,” Blake orders, and what can only be described as a bear falls to its bottom a foot in front of me with its whole giant body wagging.
With my heart now pounding for a different reason, I look down at the large animal, seeing it’s not a bear but a giant fluffy dog. Seriously, it has to be the biggest dog I have ever seen in my life.
“I’m sorry about that.” Blake takes a step into the house, shutting the door. “She normally doesn’t do that.”
“It’s okay,” I say over the sound of Sampson crying, and Blake eyes him, his brows dragging together.
“Sorry about her scaring him.”
“She didn’t. He’s teething,” I tell him, bouncing Sampson on my hip. “I think we might take off, since he’s not feeling well.”
“Hey, big guy,” Blake says softly, touching Sampson’s cheek, and my boy focuses on him and grabs hold of his finger, then reaches out for him, babbling something. “It’s that bad, huh?” He takes hold of him, and since he’s no longer crying, I let him go, watching as Blake holds him easily against his large chest. “He’s cute,” he tells me, and my heart feels weird.
“Thanks.”
“Do you want to meet Tutu?” he asks Sampson, who immediately starts to shout, “Tutu! Tutu!”
“Be gentle, girl.” Blake squats down in front of the pup, and I hold my breath as the dog wiggles forward on her bottom to sniff Sampson before licking his arm, making him squeal in baby excitement. “Good girl,” Blake praises, and she lifts her paw to his knee.
“What kind of dog is she?” I ask, and he tips his head back to look at me.
“A Tibetan mastiff.”
“She looks like a bear.” I squat down next to Blake, then hold my hand out toward her, and she loses interest in Sampson and Blake, scooting closer to me. When she’s in front of me, I use both my hands to scratch the fluff on her head. Her thick dark hair must be at least eight inches long and is so soft to the touch. “You’re a sweet girl, aren’t you?” I whisper, and she gets even closer, her heavy weight knocking me off-balance.
“Tutu,” Blake calls as I fall on my ass, then laugh as she crawls over me to get to my face.
“It’s okay.” I take hold of her head in my hands and scoot back until I have room to sit up, then give her one more rubdown. When I can finally stand, I attempt to take Sampson back, but my boy is not even a little interested in me, and Blake seems more than content to hold him.
“Where is everyone?” he asks as he walks farther into the house.
“Outside.”
“You’re not hanging with them?” He turns to look at me, and I shrug.
“Sampson was crying, and I didn’t want to ruin everyone else’s good time.”
“He seems okay now.” He looks at Sampson, who takes that time to bop him on the side of the face with his tiny fist and babble something. “You want to go outside, big guy?” To that question, Sampson babbles some more and nods.
When he opens the sliding door to the back deck, all eyes come to us, but my attention is drawn to Maverick and Tanner and the smirks on their handsome faces. I narrow my eyes on the two of them as I step outside. Even if I don’t know exactly what it is, I’m starting to get the feeling they’re up to something.
“You look good with a baby in your arms, dear brother,” Margret tells Blake, and I don’t see the look he gives her, because his back is to me, but I do catch her laugh. Also, she is not wrong: Blake does look good holding a baby. Then again, he’d probably look good holding just about anything. If he ever hit hard times, he could put out a calendar of him holding random objects and make enough to cover his expenses and then some.
“Where is my niece?” he asks her, and she motions to the couch.
“She passed out about five minutes after we got outside. She had a long day with Grandma.” She focuses on Sampson. “Are you feeling better now, buddy?” At her question, Sampson holds out his arms to her, and she takes him with ease as I take up residence in the chair Blake unfolds for me.
“Do you want a beer, Everly?” Maverick asks, and I shake my head.
“Thanks, but I’m driving, and since I haven’t had a drink in the last two years, I’m sure I’d either start acting like an idiot or pass out—neither of which would be good.”
“I can’t imagine you acting like an idiot,” Tanner says, taking a seat next to his wife and resting his hand palm down on her belly. The action that is both sweet and protective makes me a little envious that I didn’t get that from Lex while I was carrying Sampson.