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)
“Collar and lead?” Lo gives Steve a kiss.
I swallow hard, my heart rate leveling out, and force myself to my feet, offering her my hand to pull her up. And once again, we’re practically hugging due to the little shit in her arms, and it just feels so fucking good. This woman is good. All things good. Sweet. Kind. Pure. I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her input in my life. “Okay?” she asks.
I blink. Nod. “Yeah.” I pass her, collecting the trolley from where I abandoned it and looking at Lo for instruction of where to head next. She shifts awkwardly and points past me to where a sea of leads hang. “Great.” Let’s get this done with. I pace toward the section I need and haphazardly select a collar and lead. Pink. They’ll do. I throw them on top of all my other goods and head to the checkout.
“Pink?” Lo calls, pulling me to a stop. “And they look a bit big for him.”
I scowl at thin air before me. “You choose then.”
“What about these?”
I turn and find her holding up a royal-blue studded collar and lead. “Perfect.” I get moving again and start off-loading my trolley as the clerk rings through all of my puppy paraphernalia. It takes forever.
“That’s four hundred and two pounds, fifty, please,” she eventually says.
I look at her in astonishment. “How much?”
“Did you find everything you were looking for?”
“And more.” I slip my card into the machine and punch in my PIN, hearing Lo’s muffled chuckle. I look out the corner of my eye and find her face buried in Steve’s head, trying to conceal her amusement. That sound. Her face. I bump her with my shoulder on a roll of my eyes, collecting my purchases and instructing her to lead the way.
As I dump the ridiculous amounts of bags into the boot of my car, Lo climbs in the front with Steve, looking back. “Oh, get the doggy seatbelt.”
I look inside my boot, scratching my head. “And which contraption was that?”
“The one with a seatbelt clip on the end.”
I dig through the bags until I lay my hands on the only thing she could be talking about.
“And his new collar.”
I grab Steve’s collar and slam the boot. “There.” I pass them to her. “How does that thing work?”
Lo puts Steve’s new collar on with ease, and then clips the seatbelt thing through the D-ring. “And this bit goes in here.” She points to the anchor for the seatbelt.
I nod my approval at the genius thing that’ll stop Steve getting to my lap when I’m driving. “He’ll probably chew his way through it,” I grumble, starting the car and pulling away.
When we pull up at the end of Lo’s street, I stop the engine and we both sit in silence for a beat, Steve looking between us. I laugh lightly at his cuteness, reaching across to stroke his head. “How nice it must be to have such a simple life,” I muse, hearing Lo hum in agreement. “Shall we walk them together tonight?”
“You’re going to come across town to walk Steve?”
“Thought you’d like the company.”
She looks at me, smiling. “Eight?”
I mirror her smile and accept Steve when she hands him across the car to me. “Make sure you put his seatbelt on,” she warns, then places her hand on my arm, pausing. I look at her and wonder what she’s thinking. As always. “Thank you for this, Luke,” she whispers. “I needed it. Needed . . . cluelessness.” She leans across and pushes her lips to my cheek, holding them there for a few quiet seconds before pulling away slowly. As if she doesn’t want to. “Meet you on the corner?”
I nod, unable to speak, and only start breathing again when she’s out of the car. “Christ, Steve, what the hell is going on?” I whisper. He yaps, and I’m pretty sure it would translate to, you’re a twat, or something equally insulting. And correct.
Chapter Eighteen
Todd’s car is on my drive when I pull up. Swapping Steve’s seatbelt for his lead, I collect everything from the boot and juggle it all into the house.
“Seriously?” Todd looks at me struggling into the kitchen.
“Thanks for your help.” I drop it all to the floor and let Steve off his lead.
“Is that all for the dog?” He looks at the piles of goods, astounded.
“No, this is for you.” I kick the side of Steve’s new bed and wander over to the counter where I spot a note. I wince when I see it’s from my cleaner, telling me she didn’t agree to clean up dog piss. I toss the note to the side and make a mental note to leave her extra cash next week.
“And what the fuck have you put him in?” he asks, looking at Steve’s hoodie.