Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
I looked up at her. “What did you just say?”
“I’m trying to get him off of you.”
“But what did you say?”
“I said, ‘No, Freckles’.”
“Freckles?”
“That’s his name. If you look closely, buried underneath all that mud and glue, his white nose has a bunch of brown dots.” She shrugged. “They look like freckles. Probably why the owner named him that.”
I looked closer at the dog. Sure enough, there were spots under that mess. “Freckles, huh?”
He responded by licking me again.
I nodded. “Okay, buddy. If that didn’t seal the deal, I don’t know what will.” I looked up at the volunteer. “I want to adopt Freckles.”
***
I caught myself whistling as I rang Etta’s bell. It was a beautiful spring day, tomorrow I’d go pick up my new little buddy at the shelter, Etta was making me gumbo and peach cobbler, and Layla hadn’t said no to having lunch or dinner with me. What else could I ask for?
The door opened, and that question was most definitely fucking answered. It had been a damn good day, but the prospect for an even better one had just grown exponentially.
Because it was Layla who opened Etta’s door.
Chapter 13
* * *
Layla
“What are you doing here?” My tone was more than a little accusatory.
“Etta asked me to come over and fix her door lock,” Gray replied.
“She wanted to talk to me about her tickets. Said it was hard for her to get around so well without driving, and asked if I could come by this afternoon.” I narrowed my eyes. “You put Etta up to this, didn’t you?”
He held up his right hand like he was taking an oath. “I had no idea you would be here. I swear.” A look of understanding crossed his face. He set down the bags he was carrying, along with a small toolbox. “Let me look at the lock.”
Gray knelt down and jiggled the door handle a few times. The bolt moved in and out. It seemed to work fine. Then he stuck a screwdriver into the strike plate on the other side of the doorjamb, and something popped out.
“What is that?” I said.
He swiped it from the floor and began to unfold it. “Looks like a folded-up empty book of matches kept it from locking properly.”
“A folded-up book of matches?”
“Yep. I think we both got played.” Gray closed his toolbox and stood, lifting the other bag he’d brought in with him. “She also asked me to bring red wine, even though she’s never liked wine. Said she had a hankering for it.”
“She asked me yesterday on the phone what kind of wine I liked. I said anything red.”
“Who’s at the door, Layla?” Etta called from upstairs.
If I had any doubt about Gray telling the truth, Etta’s tone confirmed she was indeed the orchestrator of this evening. It was a few octaves higher than normal and almost sing-songy. I knew she had on a big grin upstairs all by herself.
Gray shook his head and rolled his eyes. “It’s me, Etta. I’m checking out your door.” He lowered his voice and spoke to me. “I’m sorry. She means well.”
The impenetrable wall I’d built around my heart suffered a hairline fissure that he apologized on her behalf and stuck up for her, rather than calling Etta out for her little white lies. He wouldn’t embarrass her. It was sweet. Damn it.
“Oh, that’s great,” Etta called again. “I just made gumbo. Layla agreed to join me for dinner. You should stay, too.”
Gray’s gaze turned serious, and he kept his voice low. “You good with that?”
My insides were doing a little dance, even if my brain still hadn’t joined the party. “Yes, it’s fine.”
He lifted his toolbox and extended his hand toward the stairs. “After you.”
Etta’s face lit up when Gray walked into the kitchen. “Zippy. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
Gray smiled and dug the folded matchbook she’d shoved into the door from his pocket. Holding it in the palm of his hand, he said, “Lock’s all fixed.” He winked at me. “Wind must’ve blown some debris in, and this got stuck in it.”
Etta turned her attention to the oven. “Great. That’s wonderful. Now we can all sit and have an early dinner. Did you know gumbo is one of Layla’s favorite dishes, too?”
Gray caught my eyes. “I did. She also likes escargot. Although that one I’m gonna have to disagree with.”
I was beginning to think he wasn’t exaggerating when he said he remembered everything about our time together.
“If I recall correctly,” I said. “Gray has SpaghettiOs with little hot dogs on his favorite food list. So I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on the best meals.”
Etta set a peach cobbler on top of the stove and took off her mitts. “He likes it best when you grill the hot dog and slice it up real thin, then add it to a can of regular SpaghettiOs. Did he ever tell you about the time he made them for his friend Percy while I was out at the grocery store?”