Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
I roll my eyes. “Seriously. Are you following me?”
He scoffs. “You’re not that interesting.” Then he tips his forehead across the street to another coffee shop, Edge & Plow. Because of course there’s another coffee shop across the street. “Early bird and all. I got up at five AM to write. I had an idea. So I ran with it.”
“Wait, let me guess. The hero breaks his dick during sex?”
“Wash your mouth out with soap,” he says, chiding me.
“Come on. You’re the king of writing we fucked till we broke our arms sex scenes.”
“But nobody ever suffers from a broken dick in my books. What do you think I am, the world’s meanest man?”
“Possibly,” I say. Then I nod to his phone. “What are you going to do with that?”
His smile is evil. “No idea but this is gold. The big, bad wolf sweet-talking the little dog,” he says, then tucks the phone in his jeans pocket and adjusts the strap on his messenger bag. “Also when did you get a dog? Were you going to keep it a secret? She’s fucking adorable.”
Like a proud papa, I scoop up the little blond creature, scratching Gigi’s chin. She lifts it higher as I pet her. “She’s Ellie’s dog,” I explain. “Isn’t she cute?”
“Here are your drinks, Gabe,” the barista says, then her smile widens, like she can’t hold it in. “Go Mercenaries! I’ve got my lucky hacky sack too!”
With a smile, I rap my knuckles on the counter, then stuff an extra bill in the tip jar. “Keep kicking it! And thanks for the Mercenary love,” I say as I set Gigi back down, then take all three drinks carefully. Once I turn the corner, I set the water cup for Gigi onto the sidewalk.
“Spill,” Axel demands. “Who’s Ellie?”
I’m not one to kiss and tell, so as Gigi laps up her drink, I answer him simply. “I grew up on the same street as Ellie. I ran into her again. There you go,” I say but that barely covers who Ellie is.
She’s vibrant, outgoing, and a sex kitten.
She’s kind, thoughtful, and caring.
She’s easy to spend time with. She’s dirty and flirty and honest.
My heart thumps harder just thinking of my woman.
Axel clears his throat, then points to the dog, who’s finished her water. “You’re walking her dog, man,” he says as I bend to pick up the paper cup and crush it. I stuff it in my back pocket so I can toss it in the recycling at Ellie’s house. “Ellie hardly seems like someone you ‘just ran into,’” he says, sketching air quotes.
The dude is perceptive. But I’m not ready to let on to Axel that he’s right. Not sure why though.
“The dog had to piss. Of course I took her with me,” I say, trying to keep my answer simple.
Trying, but failing. I like her damn dog too.
That’s fucking confusing.
“Dude, just admit you like her,” Axel says as I walk toward Ellie’s house.
“The dog is great,” I say.
“I meant the woman. It sounds like someone has it bad,” he mocks.
I grumble, “Goodbye, Axel.” I’m just not ready to deal with the someone has it bad level of feels.
Or any level.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Axel says. “Though actually, you will be getting rid of me soon. I’m going to Europe in a couple weeks to do some more research for my next thriller.”
“I’d say I’ll miss you but…”
“Fuck you. You’ll miss me. I’ll miss you, and I’m not afraid to say it.”
“Fine. I’ll miss you the tiniest little bit,” I say.
We shoot the breeze as we walk the rest of the way to Ellie’s house, and I’m grateful he doesn't press more. I don’t know what I’d say, or if I could even articulate why I feel like she’s my woman.
When she can’t be.
She just fucking can’t.
When I reach her home, I say goodbye to my friend. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Have fun with the…dog,” Axel says with a wink.
Flipping him the bird, I head inside, cups in hand. Ellie’s pacing the kitchen, her phone pressed to her ear. Brightly, she waves at me. Evidently, she’s excited to see me and the dog.
My pulse skitters. I smile back at her as I unhook Gigi’s leash from her harness, careful not to spill the drinks.
The dog scampers over to Ellie, whimpering happily as she dances on her back legs like it’s been thirty years, and not thirty minutes since she’s seen her person.
It’s seriously the cutest thing. Especially when Ellie bends down to pet her. My woman’s wearing yoga pants and a sports bra, and I like that outfit a lot.
So much it’s scrambling my brain.
“Yes, Mom,” she says into the phone, then pauses. “No, they haven’t called again yet.”
Another pause.
“I still don’t know what to say if they want to interview me,” she says with a sigh as I head into the kitchen and put the drinks on the counter, curious who she’s talking about.