Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 131387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
She squinted at him. “You that former SEAL who trains dogs?”
Wait.
He’d mentioned special forces.
But…
He was a SEAL?
“Yup,” he answered.
She wagged a black kid leather glove-encased finger between us. “You two an item?”
“No,” I said swiftly, at the same time Hutch said, “Nope.”
She brazenly looked Hutch up and down. She then did the same to me.
After that, she noted, “I don’t know which one of you to ask if you’re blind.”
“He’s training Tonks,” I told her, and as if Tonks’s name being said gave her permission to let loose—and in Tonks’s mind, it did—she trilled a woof and added a short howl.
Mrs. Matthews glanced at Tonks, stating, “If you say so.”
“He is,” I asserted.
She fluttered a hand in a line in front of her. “Whatever.” Her hand dropped to her side. “Now, those Waco whackos mess with you again, I want you to call me. I’ll send Mark, Brooks, Ellis, or all three of ’em out here to make a statement. This cabin went unrented for a full eight months. Unacceptable!”
She said the last word loudly, and Tonks agreed with her by releasing a yodel.
“Everyone local knows all about them,” she carried on. “It took an out-of-towner who didn’t know those nutjobs were living over there to find a tenant.”
“You should have told Mabel,” Hutch said.
She gave him narrowed eyes. “This isn’t a required disclosure.”
“You still should have told her,” Hutch pushed.
“Excuse me, son, but how was I supposed to know they actually were Waco whackos?” she returned.
“You probably shouldn’t call them that,” I said carefully.
“I’ll say whatever I want,” she shot back. “Though, I wouldn’t call them that if they didn’t pull that stunt with you.”
She had a point.
She glanced at Tonks. “You got the dog because of this?”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“Smart girl,” she mumbled, and I had no idea why, but her words, her approval, made me feel amazing.
No, I did know why.
She was wild, I didn’t know her very well, but I liked her. I even admired her.
And one could say I was a girl who had not grown up with many positive affirmations.
Nor many people to admire.
“So!” she stated crisply. “You look okay. You know to phone me if something else should occur. You have a dog, and you’ll soon have lights and a camera. For now, I think that’s all we can do.”
With that, she swept our way, but I stopped her by asking, “Do you like sourdough bread?”
She halted on a low-heeled pump, looked to the bread, to my face, and asked, “Is that homemade?”
“Yes. I have a starter.”
With that, she turned to Hutch and declared, “Boy, I’m thinkin’ you’re just plain loco.”
Hutch said nothing.
She might not be young, but her hand came out faster than my eyes had the ability to see, and she snatched the bread out of my hold.
She tucked it under her arm like a football and proclaimed, “I’m leaving.”
For a second, I didn’t know why she proclaimed that since her trajectory to the door already did, until she stood immobile at said door.
I heard Hutch make a low noise in his throat that could be humor, or frustration (knowing him, I was betting on the latter), and he walked to the door and opened it for her.
She didn’t say thank you.
She just walked out.
Hutch and I stood at the door and watched her go down the steps and make her way over the damp earth to stand at the passenger side of the truck.
She allowed approximately two point five seconds to pass before she bellowed, “We’re going!”
Two goon-like young men loped out of the forest to the truck.
One opened the door for his grandma and helped her in, and when I say that, I mean he mostly scooped her up and deposited her in her seat.
He got in the back, Brooks got in the front, and before he pulled out, he peeled his four fingers from the wheel in a kind of wave to Hutch and me.
Hutch didn’t move.
I waved back.
They headed up the drive and disappeared.
“That woman is a bona fide hoot,” I said.
“I’m gone,” Hutch said, and he walked out onto the porch.
I quickly adjusted myself and the door so Tonks couldn’t make a run for it.
“See you tomorrow,” I called.
He didn’t look back, but he did lift a hand over his head and flick his finger out.
God, this guy.
I closed the door.
Tonks howled.
I looked up at the loft and wondered if it was time.
“Want to meet your sister?” I asked my dog.
Tonks glanced over her shoulder at the loft like she knew what I was talking about (she probably did, dogs had sensitive noses too), threw her head back and released a variety of husky trills I was hoping meant “yes.”
“All right,” I muttered nervously. “Let’s give this a go.”
I headed up the spiral staircase.
Tonks came with me.
We both went to the bathroom door.