Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
“Fuck off,” he snaps, and I snigger, because the twat’s had this coming for years. “And I don’t know what you’re laughing at,” he mutters. “I’ll be living with you until this mess is sorted out.”
That soon snaps my amusement into line. “What?” I go after him as he trudges back into the lounge. “Oh no, no, no.”
“Oh, yes, pal. Besides, she might come back and try to murder me in my sleep.” Todd shudders on the spot and grimaces at a nearby wall, moving away from the shit-smeared mess. “The bitch must have emptied every dog-shit bin in London. Look at it!”
I glance around at the warzone, slowly coming to terms with my fate. He’s right. He can’t stay here, as much as I think he deserves to. Besides, I won’t have to endure any more of his parties, since he’s celibate now. “You have a week,” I declare, making a hasty exit, my nose wrinkled as I go. I need a shower. But first, a workout.
I spend the rest of the weekend purposely keeping myself busy. I’ve slugged ten tons of shit out of my punch bag four times, swam ten miles, and won ten games of pool against Todd.
It’s early Sunday evening, and Todd and I have picked up a crate of Bud ready to slob out in the bar for the rest of the night and watch any sport that happens to be on. We both need man time.
I bust two bottles open and hand one to my mate before I drop down on the couch next to him in my shorts. The poor bloke still looks in shock, and to be fair, he deserves to be. Charity certainly left her mark.
“I’ve taken tomorrow off,” he says, draining half his bottle in one swig. “Compassionate leave.”
I chuckle, flicking the TV over to Sky Sports One. “Did any of the cleaning companies get back to you?”
“One out of four. Seems the mention of dog excrement is a bit of a turn off, even for industrial cleaners. A grand. A whole fucking grand, and that’s just to clean the walls.”
I grimace. “I’d want more than that.” My phone dings from the table where both our feet are propped, and I dive forward more speedily than I mean to. I can feel Todd’s alarmed eyes on my back as I check the message. “Pam?” I frown, punching in my code to unlock my phone.
“Pam?” Todd asks. “Your assistant Pam?”
“Yeah.” I scan her message, my mouth falling open, our conversation of Friday night coming back to me. “Oh shit.” I jump up from the couch.
“What?” Todd looks up at me, interest rampant on his face.
“I’m supposed to be somewhere.” I slide my beer onto the table and grab my T-shirt, yanking it over my head while shoving my feet into my trainers.
“Where?”
I don’t answer him, making a mad dash for the front door. “I’ll be back soon.”
Pam’s face is a picture of disapproval when she opens her front door to me at 8:00 p.m. “He’s been waiting patiently, watching all his brothers and sisters being taken home by their new parents. He thinks his daddy doesn’t love him.”
Fucking hell, talk about making me feel like shit. “Okay, so I’ve not got off to the best start.”
She opens the door wider and ushers me inside. “Straight down the hall to the kitchen.”
I follow my feet until I breach the entrance of an old country-style kitchen, spotting . . . “Is that a cage?” I ask.
“A playpen. They’re perfect for keeping the little rascals contained.” Pam wanders over to the white-framed cage, and I follow until a ball of white comes into view. My manly heart melts. He’s sitting at the edge of the cage, all alone, looking up at me. His eyes are a little droopy, his ears huge and floppy, and his little tail starts whipping from side to side at a monumental rate when he sees me. “He’s so cute,” I say quietly, dipping and scooping him up with one hand. I laugh when his tongue starts lapping at my cheek, my face screwing up. “I guess we’ll be off then.” I turn with my new friend under my arm and head for the door.
“Um . . . Luke?” Pam calls, stopping me halfway down the corridor.
“Yeah?”
She gives me an expectant look and presents her palm to me.
“Oh, of course.” I dip into my pocket and pull out my wallet. “Do you take American Express?”
Pam laughs, and I frown. “No, Luke, I do not take American Express.”
“Visa?”
She rolls her eyes and heads for the kitchen worktop. “Come here, you clueless man.”
I semi scowl as I wander back into her kitchen, being presented with a file full of paperwork. “What’s this?” I ask.
“His papers, his vaccination record, his certificates, and his microchip details. You’ll have to contact the vet to give your details.”