Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
The hours drag on, and soon, the first hint of dawn creeps through the window, so I give up fighting to sleep. Quietly, I slide out of bed, careful not to disturb Oreo, who stretches a paw into the newly vacated warm spot. He sighs in contentment, and despite myself, I smile.
In the bathroom, I start the shower, waiting for the water to warm up. The steam begins to curl around the shower curtain, a comforting contrast to the chill that’s seeped into my bones. I step in, letting the water cascade over me and soothe my tired body.
I close my eyes and let the warmth envelop me, determined to wash away the lingering thoughts of a stranger who seems to have unsettled my world.
I'm pulling my warm cable knit sweater over my head when a knock sounds at the hotel room door. My heart does a little leap, that familiar, treacherous rhythm quickening with anticipation as I wonder if it’s Grant. I’ve been replaying yesterday in my mind, hoping I’ll get the chance to see him again.
My heart races in my chest when I glance through the peephole and see it’s him.
Taking a deep breath, I pull the door open to find him standing dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans and a navy-blue turtleneck that show off his massive muscular body. His smile warms me, and I feel myself melting from the inside out.
“Good morning,” he greets, his voice as smooth as the rich brew I desperately need.
“Good morning,” I manage to reply, trying to sound casual and not like my pulse is racing a marathon.
“I thought I’d stop by and see if you’d like some help taking Oreo out this morning,” he offers, gesturing to the sleepy French Bulldog snuggled in the pile of covers on the bed. Oreo perks up at the mention of his name, his ears quivering with interest.
“Oh, that would be great.” I can’t believe he actually came to me. “Let me just grab his leash and stroller.”
I turn to fetch it, taking a breath to steady the excitement bubbling inside me.
Oreo bustles over, clearly ready for his morning adventure, and I clip on his leash, stealing a glance at Grant. He waits patiently, and I sense that he’s the kind of person who’s as good at listening as he is at speaking.
Once we’re ready, we step out into the hallway. The small hotel seems pretty busy for this time of the morning. Grant matches my stride as we walk, Oreo trotting happily ahead, the day’s possibilities stretching wide before us.
“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” He takes my hand in his, and electricity sparks down my spine.
I glance up at him and swallow. “For work. At least, I thought it was for a job, but things didn’t quite turn out.”
“What happened?” he asks as we reach the front door. Oreo takes one look at the deep snow outside and sits down, refusing to take one more step.
“If you have time, I’ll buy you breakfast and explain everything.” I pick up my stubborn little stinker and place him in the stroller. “After I convince Oreo it’s okay to potty in the snow.” I wrap a thick blanket around him and watch as my spoiled little pooch snuggles in before pulling on my heavy coat and gloves.
“I’d love to have breakfast with you,” he says as he slips on his leather jacket and grins as hunger shines from his dark eyes. The shiver that runs through my body isn’t from the cold at all. “Let’s go see what we can do to clear a spot for Oreo to use.”
We step out into the frigid weather, and Grant pulls me close to his side with one hand and pushes the stroller toward the edge of the parking lot with the other. It’s hard to tell if we’re on grass or cement with all the snow, but he manages to find a small spot next to the sign that appears to have less snow.
Grant uses his booted foot to clear most of the snow from a small spot of grass. “Come on, little man.” He lets Oreo sniff his hand for a few seconds before gently lifting him up from the stroller. When he lifts my little dog up against his chest so he can sniff his face, Grant steals my freaking heart.
I can practically see little hearts floating around my pooch’s head as he stares adoringly at him. When Grant sets him down, Oreo sniffs for a few seconds then does his business without complaint.
“He never cooperates like that in a new place,” I tell him. “You have the magic touch with Oreo.”
Chapter 4
Grant
Now that I’ve made friends with the little Frenchie, I’m hoping to cement my relationship with his owner.
“I’m glad to hear it.” I take her gloved hand in mine and lead her back to the hotel entrance.