Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
It takes fifteen minutes to get out of town. When I hit the dirt road that leads to my house, I check the rearview mirror, finding Bridgett right behind me. I park in front of my double garage, open the door with the push of a button, then roll down the window and wave her in.
A few minutes later, carrying her luggage, I stop at the front door and glance down at Bridgett on the step below me. “Brace, babe. Lola is gonna be excited someone new is here, but she’s also on edge with her puppies in the house.”
“There are puppies in the house?” she breathes like I just told her Santa is real and we’re taking a trip to the North Pole to visit him.
“Yeah.” I grin, then push open the door. As soon as I do, Lola rushes to greet me. Her tail wags a mile a second before she goes on alert and begins to bark. “Lola, calm.” I drop the bags and pick her up, then turn to face Bridgett, who looks a mixture of scared and in love.
“She’s very sweet. You just have to show her you’re not someone she needs to be afraid of,” I tell her. Bridgett carefully reaches out her hand to Lola, allowing the pup to smell her fingers before petting the top of her head.
“She’s cute. What kind of dog is she?”
“My best guess is a mixture of Pomeranian and poodle, but really, I don’t know. I found her at an abandoned house a few months ago.”
“And she had puppies?”
“Just had them a couple of weeks ago. That was a surprise I found out about when I took her to the vet for the first time.” I carry her into the house, leaving the bags in the hall. When I get to the laundry room, I place Lola down, and she immediately goes to the box where her three pups are rooting around, looking for her.
“They are so tiny,” Bridgett whispers, stepping up behind me and pressing her tits into my arm.
“They are.” I watch Lola lie down for them to feed, then point out the washer and dryer. “This is the laundry.” I leave the room, then head farther down the hall to the kitchen. “Eat and drink anything you want.” I point at the stairs. “My room is up there.” I head across the living room and open the door to my spare bedroom that is more office than anything else. “The couch folds out into a bed, and there are sheets and blankets in the closet.” I turn to face her and find her looking around the room. “I hate to leave you like this, but I gotta get back into town. My boys are covering for me now, but—”
“Please, don’t apologize,” she cuts me off. “You’re doing me a huge favor by letting me stay here.”
“It’s not a big deal.” I head out of the room, and she follows me to where I stop in the kitchen. “I’m gonna leave you my cell number. If you need anything, just call.” I jot down my digits on the pad of paper on the counter. “Are you working tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“I might see you in the morning.” I go to the junk drawer and dig through until I find a spare key and a clicker for the garage door. “If I’m passed out by the time you get up, you can use these to come and go whenever you want.”
“Thanks,” she whispers, and I lift my chin.
“Call your brother and let him know what’s going on.”
“I will,” she assures me, then rubs her lips together as she wraps her arms around her middle. Seeing her looking so vulnerable makes my insides twist with the urge to give her a hug, but I remind myself it’s not my place to comfort her.
“I’ll set the alarm before I leave.”
“Okay.” She nods. And with that, I force myself to walk away.
Chapter 9
Bridgett
Relief
Blinking my eyes open, I hear the television’s low volume coming through the wall while the smell of bacon permeates the air around me. I drag in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Noah is safe and just on the other side of the door.
It’s odd to feel so relieved that he made it home. I never once worried about Conner while he was out or even gone for weeks, traveling for business. But every night, even the nights before the one I just spent under Noah’s roof, I’ve thought about him, wondered if he was okay, and hoped I didn’t wake up to some story on the news about an officer either injured or killed in the line of duty.
Grabbing my pillow, I drag it over my head and groan. My feelings for him have grown wildly out of control. Even reminding myself that I need to keep my emotions in check isn’t working.