Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Earlier today, true to his word, Dean knocked on my door before sending a quick text asking if I was back home. I’d done my usual laps, feeling really good and relaxed afterwards, only to think about the kiss Dean left me with, and then I got hot and bothered. I was able to shower, make myself come a couple of times, blow dry my hair, and be somewhat presentable by the time he came over.
Only for him to kiss me even longer, his touch lingering, and when he muttered a few naughty words in my ear, it only made me want to climb him like a tree. And that was only my greeting. When he left, he upped the ante, and I practically begged for more, to which he told me, “Soon,” and kissed me one last time. The palm of his hand cupped my ass, his knees were dipped, and I felt him at my aching core. Needless to say, I’ve been in a state ever since I first laid eyes on him.
Since Dean left, Scout and I have gone on three walks—one before dinner, one after, and now the one we just finished. His nose has been to the ground in between the rounds of business he had to take care of. Luckily for me, Dean forewarned me about needing the bags attached to his leash, or I’d have been scratching my head on how to do clean up his dirties in the dog park area of our apartment.
“Baroo, ba-ba-baroo!” Scout lets out a howl the moment I put Dean’s spare key in the lock. I bend down, take off his leash, and he darts through the area.
“I guess this is what your dad meant when he told me about your zoomies.” I pull my phone out after locking us inside and walk into the living room. Our apartments are set up exactly alike, only flip-flopped. Obviously, our bedrooms share a wall, and our living areas face outward. The way it’s set up is ideal, really. We rarely see our other neighbors on the opposite side of us, at least I haven’t.
I unlock my phone, hit the record button, and get a couple of clips of Scout running around in circles. He’s doing some crazy moves when he takes it upon himself to jump from the floor onto the couch, then rushes to the recliner before he lands back on the floor to repeat the process. You would think after a thirty-minute walk, he’d be tuckered out, but clearly, that isn’t the case.
Me: I think your dog might be overstimulated
I attach the video, move toward the ninja dog, who has immediately stolen my heart, much like his owner, and take a seat on the couch while he goes through this spurt of energy. Scout howls, scratches, and paws at my hand. He’s relentless until he gets what he wants. He’s lucky he's cute. Dean says he’s a mix of some kind of hound, and the more I look at him, the clearer it becomes that he’s part beagle. It’s the other half I can’t put my finger on.
Dean: Damn, he’s on one tonight.
We’ve been texting back and forth. Dean has asked questions, like what my new job will entail, where I lived before moving into my apartment, and I’ve done the same. I had to tell him about the accident and my leg for him to understand the reasoning behind me finally spreading my wings. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t need to, and I’m glad he didn’t. He also didn’t push for more information. All he said was, “Damn, you’re a badass, sweetheart.”
Scout leaves my lap, goes into the kitchen, drinks some water, comes back with his tongue sticking out of his mouth, lip tucked into his gum line, and has what I call the derp-derp face. I lie on my back, and he takes that as his cue to jump up and weave his way up until he’s lying on my chest. It’s a good thing he’s a little guy, barely weighing fifteen pounds, or I’d have a hard time breathing. I snap another picture and attach a response to the text.
Me: He’s been good. Now he wants to snuggle.
“I guess I should be heading home. You probably want to sleep after all of the activities today.” I rub his head, and his nose burrows into my palm.
Dean must not be in the bucket working tonight because my phone buzzes almost instantly. He works as a lineman, and right now, he’s on a night shift schedule, one he didn’t mind before rescuing Scout and meeting me.
Scout lets out a low whine, obviously not liking this idea one bit. Well, me neither. I’m having major regrets about telling Dean I’d leave Scout here by himself when I’m next door alone.