Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Yeah, but she’s not like most dogs, if you haven’t noticed. I’m pretty sure she’s a human trapped in a dog’s body,” she says to my back as I leave the bedroom and head for the kitchen.
“She is stubborn. Then again, so is her owner.” I smile over my shoulder at Fawn as I grab Muffin’s leash from the counter.
“Ha-ha-ha.” She rolls her eyes, and I grin, stopping at the door and wrapping my fist in her hoodie to pull her closer. I drop my mouth to hers in a quick touch before opening the door. Taking her hand, I lead her across the hall to my place, where I leave her in the living room with Muffin as I head for the bathroom to brush my teeth and take care of business. Stopping in my room on the way back to the living room, I grab a hoodie from my closet and holster my gun from the safe near my bed.
“Ready?” I ask, finding Fawn studying me and the gun holstered under my arm before I put on my hoodie and down vest over it.
“Yep.” She stands, and Muffin looks at her, then me, and lets out a huff before getting off the couch, obviously annoyed that she has to go somewhere else.
“Are you expecting trouble while we’re out?” she asks softly as I open the door, letting her out ahead of me.
“No, I always carry. Leaving my gun is like leaving my arm behind—impossible.”
“Really?” she asks, sounding surprised. “You didn’t have a gun on you on Halloween.”
“I did.”
“You did? I didn’t notice.” She frowns while I attach Muffin’s leash to her collar.
“You were flustered, baby.”
I grin, and she mutters, “This is true,” stopping behind me while I lock up my apartment.
“How do you feel about guns?” I ask, taking her hand in one of mine while holding Muffin’s leash with the other. After seeing the way Muffin was able to drag Fawn across the park, I worry about her walking her on her own.
“I grew up in a house with guns.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid of them.”
“I guess you’re right. When I was fifteen, my dad took me to the shooting range. He wanted me to get comfortable holding and shooting one. I can’t say I will ever buy a gun myself, but because of that experience, I’m not fearful of them.”
“Your dad’s a smart man.”
“He is,” she agrees with a small smile as we push out of the building and step onto the sidewalk.
“What way are we heading?” I ask, and she looks up at me, smiling.
“The day we met, you asked me when we left the building at the same time what way I was heading. I asked what way you were going so that I could head the opposite direction to get away from you.”
“I know.” I smile, watching her face soften.
“I knew then that there was something about you,” she says quietly, leaning up to kiss the underside of my jaw. “I just didn’t know I was going to like you as much as I do.”
“Don’t say shit like that to me when we’re outside, baby.”
“What?” She blinks, stepping back, but I don’t let her get far. I tug her hand, forcing her back into my space so I can get my arms around her.
“When we’re outside”—I duck my head and nip her ear—“I can’t kiss you like I want to.”
“Oh.” She nibbles her bottom lip, then smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Thanks, gorgeous.” I lean back. “Now, what way are we heading?”
“To the left.” Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, we head down the sidewalk side by side. As soon as we reach the bagel shop, I pull a twenty from my wallet.
“I’ll wait out here with Muffin. Can you get me a plain bagel with cream cheese and a coffee?”
“Yes, but I have money.” She frowns at the twenty in my hand, and I shake my head. “I’m paying.”
“No, you’re not,” I deny with a shake of my head, and she takes a step toward the door.
“I am.”
“Fawn,” I growl, and she shrugs.
“You can’t stop me.”
“Dammit,” I hiss as she walks into the shop, leaving me no choice but to stay out front with Muffin.
Coming out a few minutes later with a paper bag and two cups of coffee, she hands me one, lowering her voice. “Don’t be mad.”
“Baby, if we’re out, I pay for you and me, not the other way around.”
“Is that some kind of rule?”
“Yes.”
“Why? That’s stupid. I can pay for our breakfast.”
“I’m a man and—”
“This isn’t 1950,” she cuts me off. “If we are in a relationship, paying for things goes both ways.”
“I don’t know what kind of men you have dated in the past—and I don’t want to know about the men you’ve dated,” I add quickly when it looks like she’s about to tell me about them. I know that would piss me off. “I’m the kind of man who takes care of a woman when I’m with her.”