Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
I heard her laughter, followed by the baby talk she was doing to Slash. He was a goddamn Doberman. You didn’t baby-talk a Doberman. Jesus.
The sound of his paws on the hardwood drew closer. Seemed he was leading her to the kitchen.
Way to ruin my morning, Slash. I hadn’t even had coffee yet.
Dumping the bag of food into his bowl, I waited on Slash to come running back. But he didn’t. She was still talking and most likely rubbing his head again. I tossed the now-empty bag into the trash and went to the coffeepot to get it started. My ears trained on that damn voice and listened to what she was saying.
She clearly liked dogs. And Slash liked her. That did say something about her. She wasn’t fucking evil. Made me wonder about the lying shit.
Could we be wrong about her? No. There was no way. That hadn’t been a coincidence on that flight. The odds of it were too far-fetched.
“Oh, uh…” Her voice trailed off as they entered the room.
I finished putting a coffee filter into the machine, then turned to look at her on my way back to the freezer to get the bag of ground beans I preferred from a local place in town.
“Breakfast,” I said to Slash, pointing to his bowl.
That got his attention. He left her side and went to eat.
“What?” I asked as she stood there, staring at me.
She stiffened, and her eyes shot back up to meet mine. They’d been on my bare chest. I might be fifty, but my body was in excellent condition. I had a home gym that was used daily. I knew exactly what she had been ogling.
“You have a lot of tattoos.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” I drawled sarcastically.
That got a glare out of her. I really wished she weren’t so damn cute when she glared. And could she at least look like she had just woken up after a really long day yesterday? Maybe have dark circles or bags under her eyes? Anything to make her less attractive.
I went back to making my coffee and turned my back on her.
“Ellen won’t be here until eight. If you’re hungry, you’ll have to wait.”
“Um, I was hoping I could have some coffee,” she said hesitantly.
I grunted in response. Sure, she could have some fucking coffee. I was making a pot of it. But did that mean she was going to stay down here? I’d rather her go back upstairs, out of sight. Much less irritating that way.
Twenty-Two
Bay
Be nice. Survive the day. People will find you soon.
They would start looking for me before the day was over. I just had to deal with this man for one more day. And I really liked his dog.
“All this, um”—I paused—“luxury, and you have a basic coffeepot,” I said, finding it odd and slightly amusing.
I was also trying very hard not to look at his back. The man was built well. Really, really well. Perhaps he would put on a shirt soon.
He glanced back at me over his shoulder, frowning. “What the fuck should I have?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Some fancy machine, like they have at Starbucks.”
“For a cup of coffee?”
True. He only drank black coffee.
“I mean, not even a Keurig,” I replied.
He turned around and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and making his biceps bulge.
DO NOT LOOK. DO NOT LOOK.
“Is that the pod thing?”
I nodded.
“That makes shit coffee,” he replied.
I disagreed. I had one at home. I liked it, thank you very much.
Deciding to change the subject, I turned my attention to the dog, who was very involved in whatever was in his bowl.
“Did you name him after the lead guitarist in Guns N’ Roses?” I asked, already guessing that was where the name had come from.
“Yes.”
I smirked. “And you made fun of me for naming my dog after a rock song from the ’90s?”
“Never made fun of you. Just thought it was a weird-ass name for a dog.”
I’d loved the name. Although I had ended up shortening it to Remy most of the time.
I thought Slash was an odd name for his dog. He wasn’t very Slash-like at all. He was a sweetie. I doubted Hale would appreciate me saying that.
“I don’t have lavender or creamer or weird milk for your coffee,” he informed me.
“Do you have regular milk?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Most likely.”
“And sugar?”
He cut his eyes at me before reaching for a bronze container to the left of the coffeepot. “Yeah.”
“Then I’m all set.”
He motioned toward the refrigerator with a wave of his hand. “Help yourself to the milk.”
Ellen might have let me down last night, but I would be glad when she got here. I didn’t want to be alone with this man any more than he wanted to be around me.