Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Unless my dog saw a damn squirrel and ran off again.
Shit.
I rolled out of bed and rushed to the window. No dog to be seen. More importantly, not one ripple in the lake.
Was I too late, or was I too early?
I quickly dug a pair of dry, clean boxers out of Chase’s top dresser drawer and yanked them up my legs.
My nostrils flared when it hit me…
The smell of bacon. And coffee.
My stomach growled and I breathed a little easier since Timber had zero skills at cooking.
I grinned and as soon as I yanked open the bedroom door, the smell of breakfast hit me right in the face.
Chase being up and cooking could mean he was feeling better this morning.
Of course, where he stood at the stove, Timber sat right next to him, staring up at him in longing, his tongue hanging out and a long string of saliva clinging to it.
My dog was pining for a piece of something he was forbidden to have. “No bacon for him.”
Chase, only dressed in loose gray cotton shorts that clung nicely to his ass, glanced over his shoulder. “Too late.” He went back to flipping the crackling bacon in a cast iron skillet with a fork.
“Then I guess you’ll be on doggy diarrhea duty.”
“I don’t think so since he’s leaving with you.”
“Oh, I’m not invited for breakfast?” I asked, stepping up behind him and secretly glaring at my dog for eating pork.
“After breakfast,” he responded, removing the bacon from the pan and setting the crispy strips onto a paper towel-lined plate to drain some of the fat.
“Smells good,” I murmured as he cracked eggs one-handed into the same pan he’d cooked the bacon. “But all that bacon grease might harden my arteries.” Chase wearing those ass-clinging shorts was about to harden something else.
As he monitored the eggs in the pan, I curled my arm around his waist and pressed a kiss to his warm skin at the center of his bare broad back.
He jerked, then put the fork down and turned in my arms to face me. I thought he’d push me away, but, instead, surprised the hell out of me when he wrapped his arms around me. “Thank you.”
Holy shit. I wasn’t expecting gratitude, either. “For what?”
“For yesterday. For last night.” He sighed. “For putting up with me when you don’t have to.”
The second Timber whined because he wasn’t getting any attention, Chase released me and turned back to the stove.
Thanks, dog, for ruining that moment. “Has he been out?”
“Yes.”
Damn. “You’re good with him. You should get a dog.”
“I don’t want a dog.”
“They make the best companions.” And so would I.
“I’m fine here by myself.”
“Why are you so stubborn?”
“Just to annoy you.”
Since he wasn’t facing me, I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or being honest. Two weeks ago I would not have even questioned it. It would’ve been the second one. This morning, it might actually be the first. “Well, you’ve succeeded. You can stop at any time now. It’s exhausting.”
“You don’t have to be here.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But I am, so don’t be a dick.”
Grabbing a spatula from the counter, he flipped the eggs, let them cook for a few seconds, then put two perfectly fried eggs on each plate, along with four strips of bacon.
When he was done, he carried both plates over to the table with Timber on his heels, leaving a trail of drool in his path. “Can you grab us coffee?”
After grabbing us two mugs, we sat down to eat breakfast like yesterday hadn’t even happened. It was both reassuring and worrisome at the same time.
Could this be the calm before another storm? Or had last night finally been his turning point? Was it possible he was finally ready to move forward with his life and work toward happiness?
Sitting across from each other, he avoided my eyes and concentrated on his food, eating more enthusiastically than he had last night with dinner.
That could be a good sign.
“It’s good,” I murmured before shoving another forkful of fried egg into my mouth.
“It’s over-easy eggs and bacon. A monkey could make it.”
Maybe. But a monkey didn’t make it, Chase actually made me breakfast. He hadn’t kicked me out the door last night, he let me sleep while he took my dog out and cooked me a meal.
I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but to me, it was a huge deal. And I appreciated this turnabout.
As soon as we were both done eating, he grabbed our empty plates, then came back for our mugs. Once he refilled them both, he tipped his head toward the door. I figured he wanted me to leave now that we were done.
“Let’s sit outside.”
Well look at that, I was wrong.
I nodded, trying not to get too giddy, and followed him out onto the porch, moving our still damp jeans from the two rocking chairs to the porch railing so we could sit.