Total pages in book: 203
Estimated words: 199654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 998(@200wpm)___ 799(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 998(@200wpm)___ 799(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Yep. Definitely need to fix this fence. She slipped through a two-foot gap in one corner of the yard.
“Bailey!” I call.
She looks over her shoulder at me but then chooses to ignore me, putting her nose to the ground and following along the riverbank.
I don’t have a back gate; it’s something I’ve been meaning to add so I can make use of the river without having to hop my fence.
I climb the fence, throw a leg over and shift mid-air so when I land, I land on four paws.
Fuck, she’s small. She’s a couple hundred feet away already, nose to the ground like she’s tracking something.
She spots me, stops and howls before giving up whatever she’s tracking, now running as fast as her short legs can carry her to get to me. She’s whining, excited to meet my wolf. That spark in my chest swells as my wolf licks her face. She yips excitedly, bucking and then pouncing with excitement before circling me, sniffing me, then pouncing and landing on her belly with her ass up in the air wiggling like she wants to play.
I regard her and I guess I don’t return the playfulness quickly enough because something catches her eye and she’s off and running, heading between two homes a few houses down from our place.
She glances over her shoulder and yips. She wants me to follow.
I follow, letting her explore but staying close.
She crosses the road between the houses four and five homes away from our place to go south and I don’t like that she doesn’t look both ways before crossing. It’s okay, I’m directly behind her, and just as we’re halfway across the road, Riley is traveling this way on his motorcycle, so I shift to two feet and wave.
Rye stops and frowns, looking at Bailey’s wolf, who stops and sniffs the air. Erica is on the back of his bike.
She covers her eyes at the sight of my nudity.
“Bailey,” I tell them, covering my crotch for Erica’s sake.
Rye’s head jerks back in surprise.
“Oh! Oh my gosh!” Erica claps her hands with glee and Bailey’s pup startles and runs, frightened.
Erica looks horrified.
“Don’t sweat it, Erica. Her wolf just needs to sync up with her. It’ll happen. Later, guys. Better catch up and keep her out of trouble.”
Riley’s laughing as I shift back to four paws and catch up with her as she trots down her brother’s street like she knows just where she’s going, stopping every so often to sniff something. A lamp post. The fire hydrant. She picks up a stick and carries it in her mouth the rest of the way.
When we get to Grey’s house, he’s on the front lawn with a garden hose, talking to his neighbor Claire.
Grey’s eyes pivot to us and he frowns for a second before he watches Bailey’s wolf run to him, drop the stick at his feet, and jump up, putting her paws on his legs.
I shift to two feet.
“What the fuck?” Grey asks.
Bailey’s wolf changes her mind about saying hi to her brother and moves to the still flowing hose and puts her head under it, drinking it while getting drenched.
“Language, Greyson,” Claire, who is about seventy-five years old, berates.
Ironically, Claire is known for her potty mouth.
“She showed up last night,” I say. “Mating evidently triggered it.”
“Triggered what? Who’s child is this?” Claire asks. “The scent is familiar.”
“Bailey.” I gesture.
Claire frowns. “Bailey?”
Bailey’s pup backs off from the hose, shakes the water off, sits, and pants, looking between us.
“Bailey,” I confirm.
“I’ll be damned,” Grey says. “Hey, Squirt.”
She throws her head back and bellows a cute little howl. “Awoo!”
Grey cracks up.
“No synchronization whatsoever,” I say, “though I’m sure that’ll come.”
Grey squats and pats her head. “Congratulations to you two.”
He tosses the stick and she runs, grabbing it and bringing it back. As she drops it, she yips before she starts chasing her tail.
“Yes, congratulations, Jason and Bailey,” Claire says, looking down at Bailey’s crazy little pup who’s caught her own tail and is growling at it while it’s between her teeth.
“Thanks,” I say.
Bailey’s wolf suddenly pounces in the opposite direction, running for the flowerbed bordering Grey’s house, getting her face into a giant spherical pink flower with loads of petals. She immediately sneezes, then follows a fat bee for a minute as it goes from flower to flower before we all watch her put her nose to the ground again and head down the road toward the park.
“Later,” I say, shifting back to four paws and following my mate through the park toward her parents’ place.
***
“Don’t think anybody’s home, Bay,” I tell her.
I’ve shifted back to two feet after she’s walked the perimeter of the house. Neither of her parents’ vehicles are out front and the front door is locked. I try the kitchen door and that’s locked too.