Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
“He was about to die,” I blurt out, voice low. “I just saved him.”
Her brown eyes widen as she approaches. “Oh, look at him. He’s an elderly pup. Where’s his owner?”
A knock on the door startles us both. I shove the little guy into her arms and motion for her to hide. Once she’s scurried out of sight, I answer the door as nonchalantly as possible.
It’s the creepy dog catcher.
“Hey, man,” I say, sounding guilty as fuck.
He narrows his beady eyes on me. “You seen a white dog running around here? I’m looking for him.”
“What? No.”
His gaze drifts past me into the house. “Smells good in there.”
“I’m baking cookies. Is the owner looking for the dog?”
He grunts and runs his tongue over his yellow teeth. “No owner. His owner died a few weeks ago. No family to take it in. The little bastard keeps escaping the facility up the road. I’ve rounded him up three times now from this complex.”
I point past him and exclaim, “He went that way! I saw him running!”
The man utters a thanks and lumbers off in the direction I pointed at. I close and lock the door before turning to find Clara. She peeks around the corner with the dog who’s now wrapped in a soft taupe towel.
“The bad man’s gone,” she croons to the dog. “You’re safe now with us.”
Relief floods through me. I think we just stole a dog, but it’s good knowing his real owners aren’t out looking for him. He just wants a home. You have to give the little dude credit for literally finding one for himself. He chose well. Clara’s home is the best.
“What do we call him?” she asks, cocking her head to the side. “Frosty?”
He yips and his tongue lols out as if he likes that name. Frosty it is.
“You showed up just in time, Frosty,” I tell him. “Let your new momma clean you up while I take the cookies out. You’re in for a real treat, buddy.”
Twenty minutes later Clara returns with a freshly bathed Frosty. The cookies have cooled and I get to test our contest entry on our new little friend. I hold out a leg of the gingerbread man to see if Frosty is interested. He eagerly eats it up and yips for more.
“Are you allowed to have pets?” I ask, guilt flooding in that I made a quick decision without consulting her.
“As if Reid could tell me no. His son is married to my bestie,” Clara sasses, reminding me of how she earned the nickname “sass” as a kid. “Besides, if the beer bros can have a fake mechanical bull in their front yard, and Maggie over there can have five hundred cats, I think I can have the bestest doggie in the whole wide world.”
Her neighbors are strange, but I like that she knows them all and feels at home here. Back in New York, I didn’t even know my landlord’s name, much less my neighbors. Everything about that place was cold and impersonal. Here, it’s warm and comforting. Again, maybe getting fired was exactly what I needed.
We spend the rest of the evening making our dog/human gingerbread cookies, only stopping long enough to run to the pet shop to grab some supplies for Frosty.
“When do you go back to work?” I ask once we’re settled on the couch for the evening, one of Clara’s silly Christmas Hallmark movies on the television. “Frosty and I will be lonely without you.”
Hearing his new name, his tail thumps against Clara’s arm, but he doesn’t wake up. Since he’s not a young pup anymore, the day has finally caught up to him and he’s exhausted. I stroke my palm over his back hoping he feels loved even asleep. It’s sad he lost his owner.
“Monday,” Clara says with a sigh as she hugs Frosty to her. “I’m having fun this weekend. I wish I could take a longer break.”
She yawns and leans her head against my shoulder. Because I can’t help it, I lift my arm so she can snuggle against my side, and then wrap my arm around her. I nuzzle my nose against her hair, bathing in her familiar scent I’ve missed so much.
As we watch the movie, I admire all the decorations we put up today. The place looks like Christmas puked all over and I love it. Nostalgia hits me right in the gut.
“When are you going to go see our parents and the kids?”
Her question has oily guilt sluicing through me. It makes me feel like a sicko holding her like she’s my damn girlfriend or something. Clara is my stepsister. We share family. Fuck.
Still, I can’t bear the idea of letting go of her right now. She feels good glued to my side with our sleeping dog between us.