Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
He is looking undeniably handsome tonight with his underbite on full display, making him look both confused and vaguely threatening at the same time.
I sigh, kneeling down to his level, adjusting the bow tie I clasped around his neck earlier, adding to his charm.
“Listen,” I say to him in the soothing tone I reserve for babies and cute animals. “Gio is coming over—the other Gio. And I need you to not do that thing where you bark for no reason. Be nice. This is important.”
He flops to the floor for belly rubs, completely uninterested in the gravity of the situation.
I give him some pets and continue my lecture.
“You know,” I impart. “For once you could help me out by being cute and endearing instead of looking like the creepy little goblin he’s accused you of. Wag your tail when he comes in. Or, I don’t know—don’t growl at him. At all.”
Gio yawns, his long pink tongue curling as he stretches out on the floor.
“I take that as a no.”
Shithead.
Ugh, why am I so nervous!?
I stand, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror above my living room fireplace and smooth a hand over my hair, which I’ve spent the last thirty minutes trying to tame into something effortless but pretty. My outfit is casual but flattering—jeans and a mohair sweater that’s loose enough without being frumpy.
I’ve gone back and forth on the makeup, eventually settling on only mascara and lip gloss.
Natural.
Easy.
I pace the living room, glancing around to make sure everything looks tidy. The throw pillows are fluffed, the blankets draped over the back of the couch are arranged just so, and there’s a candle burning on the coffee table that smells like vanilla and cinnamon—yum—without being overpowering.
I’ve spent way too much time agonizing over these tiny details, but I can’t help it. I want everything to be perfect.
Which means that inevitably it won’t be.
As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door. My stomach does a little flip again, and I shoot the dog a warning look.
“Behave,” I hiss at him, pointing a finger at him before hurrying to the door. “Stay!”
He sits.
I take one last deep breath, plastering on what I hope is a relaxed smile—and open it.
“Hey,” he says, his smile easy and warm.
“Hey,” I manage, moving aside to let him in. “Come on in.”
He steps into my small foyer, glancing around the room as if he were searching for something—or someone, aka: Gio—tentatively crossing the threshold.
“Thanks.” He kisses me on the lips by way of greeting before stepping further inside. “Is it safe?”
Before I can respond, my dog makes his presence known, trotting into the room with his signature awkward gait. He stops a few feet away from Gio, eyes locked on the human version of Gio, sizing him up.
The dog sniffs the air.
Takes one dinky step forward.
It’s like a showdown in the Wild West.
When Gio puts his hand on my waist to pull me in for a hug, the dog freezes, his scraggly body stiff, watery eyes narrowing.
One more step forward…
I half expect tumbleweed to roll across the carpet.
“This is Gio,” I tell my date, pointing toward the dog, who tilts his
head, underbite catching the light enough to look menacing, like he’s debating whether to make friends or declare war.
Gio kneels down a few feet away, keeping his movements slow and deliberate.
“Hey, buddy,” he says, his voice warm and unthreatening. He holds out his hand like a peace offering, palm up so Gio can sniff it. “We’re going to be cool, right?”
“No,” I mutter to the dog. “Don’t you dare start growling.”
Jesus, can nothing ever be easy?
My dumb dog rumbles low in his chest, barely audible, and grows in volume that should not be so loud given the size of his
body. His lip curls, exposing far too many crooked teeth.
“Great.” Gio’s laugh sounds nervous as he holds up his hands in mock surrender. “He hates me. Message received.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” I insist, reaching out to scratch Gio behind his silky ears. “I’m so sorry he’s growling—I warned him to behave, but he doesn’t want to listen.”
I give the dog a sharp look. “Gio, knock it off.” Then to Gio, “He won’t eat you, I swear.”
I don’t think…
Truth be told, I haven’t introduced the dog to a man. I haven’t dated anyone since Dad passed away, so this is new to both of us.
The dog and I, I mean.
His scratchy snarl fades to a weak grumble, though his stance remains cautious. His eyes flick to me, then back to the man, almost as if he’s waiting for my signal.
Oh for the love of God.
“He’s not used to strangers,” I explain, embarrassed. “Especially uh, male strangers.”
Gio chuckles, the sound warm and surprisingly genuine. “Challenge accepted.”
The dog gives a single bark as if to say, We’ll see about that, chump, and I debate: should I let the dog stay in the living room with us…or put him in the laundry room with his bed and toys?