Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Keep an eye on her for me, will you?”
Henley’s calculating eyes meet mine. “Shouldn’t her husband be doing that?” he sneers sarcastically.
Kill me now!
Fucking Liam. I’m going to kill him.
“Juliet isn’t married.” Dad laughs. “Perhaps you have a friend to set her up with.”
For the love of god. Shut up, Dad.
I open the door and gesture inside. “You really need to pack.”
Get inside right now before I beat you to death with the front door mat.
“Goodbye, Henley. Nice to meet you,” my dad calls.
Henley waves and continues walking back to his house. I watch his broad back as he disappears across the lawn.
“What a nice man,” my dad calls loudly as he walks inside. Surely, Henley heard him.
He’s not, Dad. Nowhere close.
“Just this way.” The attendant leads me down a corridor.
“I’m so excited.” I nearly dance along behind her. “I’ve been wanting this dog for forever.”
“He’s a beautiful dog. He’s had all his shots and is ready to go.”
We get to his enclosure, and he looks up at me. His eyes are sad, and my heart breaks. “Hey, you.” I smile as I bend down. “What breed of dog is he again?”
“Not sure. Definitely a springer spaniel in there somewhere.” She opens the gate, and he stands, unsure of what’s about to happen.
He’s brown and perfectly spotty. “And how old is he?”
“Judging by his teeth, we think around three. Although he could be a bit younger or older. He’s not super old—put it that way.”
“And how did he come to be in the shelter?”
“His owner died unexpectedly.”
“Oh.” My heart sinks. “Poor baby.”
“Out you come, Barry,” she says.
“Barry?” I frown.
“Yes, his name is Barry. Of course, you can change it if you want to.”
“Did his last owner call him Barry, or did you just make that up since he’s been here?”
“He’s always been called Barry.”
Oh, I don’t really want to have a dog called Barry. I was thinking something more noble and cool.
Hmm, I’ll have to think on this.
“He was an outside dog at his last home.”
“But . . . does he like inside?” I ask.
“Show me a dog who doesn’t.” She puts the leash on him, and he tentatively walks out.
I hold my hand out for him to smell. “Hi.” His tail gives a weak wag, and I smile. “Let’s go home.” I carefully lead him out the doors, and he looks back at the attendant as if to say I’m allowed to leave? We walk out to my car, and I help him climb into the back seat. He sits quietly, and I shut the door behind him. “You’re a good boy.” I smile at him in the rearview mirror. This is so wonderful to be able to do this. It doesn’t get any better than this.
1:00 a.m.
“Woof, woof, woof” echoes through the entire neighborhood.
I wait.
“Woof, woof, woof.”
I roll over in bed. “Fuck’s sake, Barry.”
Silence for a few moments.
Owoooooooooooo.
“What the hell? He’s howling like a werewolf now?” I flick back the blankets and march downstairs. I open the back door. “What?” I whisper angrily. “What do you want?”
Barry wags his tail, ready to play.
“Come inside. You’re keeping the entire street awake.”
He barrels into the house past me, and I close the door behind him. This has been going on for hours. He barks when he’s left outside, and then I let him in. Five minutes later he barks to go back outside.
I have no idea what he wants or what to do.
I lie on the floor, exhausted, as Barry runs around in circles. Woofing at me to play, he jumps and nips at my hair. He picks up a ball and drops it next to my hand.
Oh god . . .
“It’s not playtime,” I murmur sleepily. He picks up the ball and drops it again.
I doze for a moment, and he goes to the back door and begins barking to go out.
“What are you doing?” I sigh in frustration. “I just let you in.”
He begins to scratch on the back door to go out.
Hell, this was not in the brochure.
I get up and let him out, and he runs back out to the backyard all excited.
“Go. To. Sleep.” I close the door and march back to the living room. There’s no point even going back upstairs. I’m only coming down again in two minutes. I grab the throw and snuggle up on the floor with some cushions.
Bang, bang, bang.
I wake with a start.
Bang, bang, bang.
Huh? I sit up all disheveled. I fell asleep. Is someone banging on the door?
Owoooooooooooo, I hear from the backyard.
Crap, Barry is howling again.
I open the front door in a rush to see Henley standing at the door, wearing navy satin boxers. “Are you seriously this selfish?” he spits as he marches past me into my house.
“Huh?” I’m squinting as I try to focus my eyes. “What?”