Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
The second the door swings open, the first thing I see is Salty, the platinum menace, skidding across the tile in a blur of muscle and attitude. Pepper howls, launching herself into a headlong collision with her brother. The next five seconds are pure chaos: barks, snorts, and the slap of two Frenchies ricocheting off every hard surface.
“Thank God you finally got here,” Jay says, but he’s grinning. He’s dressed like he walked out of a GQ shoot—gray slacks, black shirt, sleeves rolled just so, hair perfect, even indoors. He has his signature tortoiseshell glasses on, the ones he wears for absolutely no reason except to look smarter than everyone else. He notices Poppy and instantly turns on the charm.
“Hello.” Jay focuses on Poppy with laser accuracy. He offers his hand, and Poppy gets flustered and goes in for a handshake, except Jay turns it into a full hug. “You’re way too gorgeous to be with my ugly ass brother.”
I wedge myself between them, tugging Poppy back to my side. “Fuck off, asshole,” I warn, low and direct. “You look just like me.”
“Not true,” he argues. “I’m way more handsome.”
I roll my eyes so hard I almost sprain something. “You wish.”
Jay ignores me, obviously, and turns all his attention on Poppy, who is busy trying not to laugh. “I’m Julian, but everyone calls me Jay.”
At that moment, Salty and Pepper decide to launch into another round of death-match WWE wrestling. There’s a wild tangle of Frenchies, all teeth and snorts and pure chaos. I grab Pepper mid-lunge before she can body slam her brother into the wall, but not before both dogs let out this high-pitched, ear-shattering scream like they’re being tortured.
Jay sighs dramatically, running his fingers through his perfectly styled hair. "See what I've been dealing with? An hour of this, and my neighbors probably think I'm running an underground dog fighting ring."
Poppy grins at him, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners as she watches Salty's wrinkled face and bat-like ears twitch with excitement. "Salty's adorable."
“Thank you.” Jay smiles at her, then gives me a look over her head that says, Not bad, brother. Not bad at all.
I grunt and drag Poppy tighter against my side, just because I can.
Jay winks at me, then mouths, “Don’t fuck it up.”
I roll my eyes hard. God, he’s annoying. “We have to run,” I tell my brother. “I promised my girl a Maple’s cinnamon roll.”
“Pepper is going to shit in your favorite shoes if you leave her again,” my asshole brother warns me.
“That’s why I chose Maple’s.” I lean down to slip Pepper into her harness and hook the leash. “They have outside seating so she can come with us.”
CHAPTER NINE
POPPY
After I eat my weight in cinnamon rolls at Maple’s, we head back to my apartment to introduce Pepper to Moonpie.
When we reach my door, I hesitate, suddenly nervous. “Okay. This could get ugly. You’ve never seen Moonpie meet another animal. She does not play well with others.”
He shrugs, like the prospect of an angry, possibly homicidal house cat means nothing to him. “Don’t worry, kitten. It will be fine.”
I unlock the door and brace myself for the impending chaos. Moonpie is already perched on the back of the sofa with her tail flicking back and forth like a metronome. Her pupils blow wide as she zeroes in on Pepper, who immediately struts into the room like she owns it.
For a second, they just stare at each other. A full-on, high-noon showdown. Neither moves. Pepper snorts. Moonpie blinks, slow and ominous. The air is so thick with animal tension, I swear you can see the cartoon lightning crackle.
Jack bends down and offers Moonpie his hand to sniff. The cat ignores him entirely and slinks to the floor, her fur standing up like she just stuck her paw in an electric socket.
Pepper, unfazed, trots straight to the food dish and sniffs it. Moonpie’s head whips around so fast I’m surprised she doesn’t get whiplash. There is a beat of silence—then all hell breaks loose.
Moonpie hisses so loud it echoes in the vent above the sink. Pepper just snorts and, with complete disrespect for the drama, starts eating the cat’s food. Jack tries to intervene, but Moonpie launches herself onto the counter, knocking over the cereal box and my favorite coffee mug in one deft leap. She comes up behind Pepper and takes a swipe at her face.
The paw connects. Pepper freezes. For a split second, I’m terrified this is going to end in blood.
But then Pepper does the unthinkable. She swipes right back, bat ears pinning to her head, and lets out a warbling little howl. Her paw connects with Moonpie’s shoulder, and the cat spins in a circle, shocked as hell.
For a full three seconds, nobody moves. Then, like two prizefighters who suddenly realize they’re evenly matched, they both just stop and look at each other, mutual loathing replaced with something like… respect?