Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
This entire situation was cringe, and it reminded me of why I was never going to be the kind of guy Lane Desmond could be proud of. I had absolutely no chill.
“Gotta go,” I said before bolting for the door.
Lane called after me again, but I didn’t stop. Things were too good between us to risk fucking it up by saying something stupid in front of Lane’s coworkers.
Or something more stupid, anyway.
I just… liked being with the man, that was all. And the hours between leaving him in the morning and greeting him in the garage tended to drag. I’d end up thinking about how good it felt to kiss him, and wishing I could see the smile on his face.
I worried sometimes that things were getting too good. Too… serious, at least on my part. And that was a problem.
Even though I’d lived in the Thicket my whole life and there was no place I’d rather be, I’d learned pretty early on that folks—well, men—didn’t want serious from me. They wanted a fun night, a few laughs, and some screaming orgasms.
It had never bothered me much since I hadn’t been after anything serious myself, but with Lane…
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dunn Johnson asked when I slunk into the Partridge Pit to pick up some ribs after finishing my shift at the Suds Barn.
If Lane didn’t want me turning up on his doorstep with food, I could at least deliver it to his doorstep before he returned home. That way, I’d still ensure he was properly fed after his long workday, and he wouldn’t have to see me or feel obligated to give me a pity invite inside.
“Nothing’s wrong, why?”
Dunn lifted his boot and used it to shove out the chair opposite him at one of the wooden tables. “You look miserable. Bad day at work? Tell Uncle Dunn all about it.”
I threw myself down in the chair with a sigh. Dunn’s husband, Tucker, eyed the two of us as he approached with a couple of cups full of icy-cold sweet tea. “Hey, Jay. You hungry? Want to join us for an early dinner?”
I shook my head. “Nah. Just put in an order for some ribs for later. How’s it going at work? Ms. Vienna came by the car wash with her station wagon the other day and said things have been busy on account of the flu going around the school. I figured you’ve been run off your feet.”
Dunn waved his hand to keep Tucker from answering. “He’s fine. Flu’s normal this time of year. Stop changing the subject. How’s that fussbudget new vet?”
I stared at him in shock. “Lane Desmond is the furthest thing from a fussbudget! He’s a… a… he’s a… damn it, what is the opposite of fussbudget?”
“Nonchalant?” Tucker suggested. “Easygoing? Relaxed? Carefree?”
I stared at him, and he blushed. “Sorry. I, uh… I like crosswords.”
The look Dunn gave him was so filled with love and pride I had to look away. “He’s being modest. Tucker Johnson knows more words than anybody.”
Tucker’s blush intensified. “Drink your tea and hush,” he said fondly. “Anyway, you like Lane just fine. You brought Bernadette to see him.” To me, he explained, “That’s about the highest compliment Dunn can pay a person.”
Dunn made a grumbling noise. “The man called her my pet, Tucker, when anyone knows a pig is livestock.”
Tucker nodded and pushed his glasses up. “I know, baby. But I think Lane was confused when you mentioned that Bernie sleeps in the house, under the dining room table.”
“Only sometimes,” Dunn scoffed. “Like for safety, when it’s storming.” He frowned. “Or when she seems lonely. Or when there are new episodes of Bridgerton. But otherwise, she’s out in her pen. Which I told him.”
“You did,” Tucker agreed. “You sure did. But I think… I think maybe when you explained that there was running water in the pen and that you’d taught Bernie to operate the lever in case she needed a shower, that might have increased the confusion—”
“Pffft. That’s just responsible livestock ownership.”
“—and when you explained the part about how you had us draw up wills and list Parrish and Diesel as her guardians if something should happen to both of us… well, I can see where Lane’s confusion came from, that’s all I’m saying.”
“We agreed we need someone we know will administer her trust correctly.” Dunn grabbed Tucker’s hand. “But that doesn’t make her a pet, Tuck. That’d be silly.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Tucker soothed. He laid his free hand atop Dunn’s. “The more I think about it, I can’t imagine where Lane got that idea.”
“Well, I’m sure Lane was just doing his job and taking care of his client,” I said, a bit more hotly than maybe I should have. “He’s an excellent vet and a good man. A great man. The best man.” I glared at him.