Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
But a dog party?
I can’t believe this is my life right now. If this is rock bottom, I’ve hit it. The band is playing the riff for “Who Let the Dogs Out” for their sound check, their amps crackling as a Golden Retriever by the lake howls along like it’s the lead singer.
There’s a bobbing-for-bones bucket over by the gazebo, where a soggy Bulldog tries to dunk his entire head in.
On the dock several feet away, the dogs race off to dive into the lake, water spraying everywhere as a lifeguard—the host’s boyfriend, I’m told—watches the dogs like a sentry. Next to him sits a take-one-slash-leave-one basket of dog toys.
Pretty sure I even saw costume changes for the canine of honor hanging on a tree. I turn to Juliet. “Bagel is going to be wearing a vest later. A vest.”
Juliet arches a brow. “And this bothers you because you hate vests?”
“Of course I don’t hate vests,” I answer.
“Then what’s the problem, Sawyer?” She holds her arms out wide, gesturing to the most over-the-top dog park ever. I bet this would put dog parks in Beverly Hills to shame. “You’re a dog person.”
“Yeah, but I’m not a dog person,” I say, sketching air quotes.
“Please. You run a dog business,” she counters, calling bullshit.
“It’s not like this though,” I grumble.
“Sawyer, are you seriously complaining about a party? You need some fun in your life. Especially today,” she says, gentling her tone.
She barely has to remind me why. I signed the papers mere hours ago. I drag a hand through my hair, as if that’ll get rid of the sting of selling the home that I once shared with my fiancée. “When you said fun, I thought you meant Skee-Ball or pool.”
She tosses her head back, brown hair spilling down her back as she laughs. At me. Definitely at me. “I didn’t mean a round of pool. I never mean a round of pool. And your attitude proves my point—this is exactly what you need. Something light. Something delightful. You don’t need to hide in a darkened man bar and grunt with the other guys as you shoot balls into holes. You need…” She slaps a hand on the bar. “A Paw-garita.”
I’m not sure I want to know, but against my better judgment, I ask anyway. “What even is a Paw-garita?”
“Who knows?” She sets a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “But whatever it is—you need it.”
She’s so earnest and supportive, like she was earlier when she arrived at the empty house here in Hayes Valley and walked through it one last time with me. My shoes had echoed across the floorboards of the home I’d shared with the woman I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with.
On the front porch, Juliet had refused to let me go to my hotel room to work on my plans for business expansion or whittle away at my to-do list as I prep to move to a new town in a couple weeks. Nope—the order of the day, or really, the night, was a party.
I hate letting her down, so I’d said yes. Maybe that wasn’t my brightest idea. I sigh and scrub a hand across my jaw but try my best to let go of this knot of tension inside me. Hell, it’s more than a knot. It’s a steel ball. It’s not Juliet’s fault though.
“You’re right,” I say with a decisive nod, then ask, “Two tequilas?”
“One for you, and one for your attitude?” she asks with a smirk.
I look to the skies. “Why did I say yes to this?”
“Because you know it’s exactly what you need,” Juliet says, poking my chest as a late-May breeze rustles and the scent of something a little cinnamon-y tickles my nose.
I turn toward it, and…
Nope. Not tonight. I don’t have the energy to flirt. I came here to suffer through one paw-themed cocktail, not get blindsided by a woman who looks like summer in a dress. But fuck me. The woman walking toward the bar is gorgeous. Red hair is piled high on her head in a bun. Freckles dance across her cute nose. Bright, curious eyes sparkle with interest as she peers at the chalkboard menu, a little pink purse dangling on her wrist.
I can’t tell what color her eyes are. Green? Maybe hazel? I’m not sure, but I want to be. My gaze strays down her body next, savoring the way that white summery dress swishes as she moves, showing off strong legs and hinting at a strong body underneath.
When she arrives, she looks straight at the bartender and says an upbeat, “Hello,” right as an elbow lodges into my side.
“Ow,” I mutter, then snap my focus to my sister.
Juliet smirks. Tilts her head. Then clears her throat, catching the redhead’s full attention. “Hi! I’m Juliet, and this is my brother, Sawyer. Some party, isn’t it?”