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)
Right when I’m about to introduce myself and assure her I’ll take care of keeping her up at night, minus the whole wanting to do that in an entirely different way, my phone starts ringing. Once that damn thing starts, it doesn’t quit.
“I’ll work on that. I gotta get that. Stay here for a minute.” Between work and the absentee dog walker, I need to figure out what’s going on, get dressed, and take Scout out for the second time this morning. I’m really going to have to look for another place to stay, one with a yard, if I’m staying here longer than the short-term six-month lease I’ve got at the present moment.
“It’s fine, really. I was on my way, anyway. I guess I’ll see you around, neighbor.” She gives me a slight finger wave, and I say fuck it; the phone can wait another few minutes.
“Wait.” I take a step closer, my hand reaching out for hers. She tilts her head to the side, a small smile playing at her lips.
“Really, we can do this another time.” I drop my hand when realization hits that maybe she likes this cat-and-mouse game.
“See you around, neighbor,” I toss her own words back at her, take a step back, and watch as she turns on her heel, bag swinging in the air. And when she walks away, it finally sinks in exactly what she is and isn’t wearing. She’s in a two-piece bikini of some sort, with a string at her neck and back, putting her smooth skin on show for me to look at. Her hair is thrown up in a ponytail, which moves back and forth with each step taking her further away from me. My eyes drop to her swaying hips, and when my gaze lands on her ass, the bottoms work in a way for a man’s pleasure. She probably doesn’t even realize it. With each step, the fabric gets pulled in deeper, and I’m left with having to bite my damn cheek in order not to do something stupid, like call out for her again
It isn’t until she looks over her shoulder and winks at me that I do what any red-blooded man would do. I let out a low and slow whistle, my top teeth pressing on my lower lip to form the action. What does the fox of a woman do? She throws her head back, lets out a loud laugh, and continues on like business as usual.
I noticed the scar she had on the front of her leg, as well as the one in the back, and the slight limp. It makes me wonder what the fuck happened to her and who the fuck could make a woman like that have scars so deep. However the woman herself, she’s like sunshine on a cloudy day. Pure and full of happiness. It doesn’t matter that my dog messed with her sleep. She could have been pissed, left a nasty note, or taken it right to upper management, and so many other things.
Yet she didn’t.
Once she’s out of my view, I head back inside. She left me a note; it’s only fair I do the same. But first, I’ve got to put some damn clothes on, figure out who the fuck was blowing up my phone, and take Scout out for a walk.
“What’s up, bud?” I say in the form of greeting my dog when I clear the doorway. You have to be fast on your feet, shuffle them in order to keep him from darting out. And he’s in this new stage where he likes to hump shit—your leg, a toy, the arm of the chair or the couch. It’s fucking endless.
A loud baroo is my greeting. When I snatch my phone off the counter, I notice it’s not the dog walker or my work. It’s my mom. Scout follows me through the house, and while I’d usually have no problem giving my mom a call back, I’ve got a lot of shit to do before I can leave for work. I unlock my phone, pull up my messages, and send her a quick text.
Me: Everything okay? I’m in the middle of taking care of Scout, and the dog walker never showed up.
Mom: Yeah, call whenever. Just checking in with my boy.
Me: Will do as soon as I’m in the truck.
Mom: Love you.
Me: Love you, too.
I respond in between stepping into a pair of boxer briefs and throwing a shirt over my head. By the time our messaging is over, I’m completely dressed in socks, jeans, boots, a baseball cap, and am back in the living area. I jingle the leash to get Scout’s attention since he moved back to his perch on the chair near the window. He does a few spinning circles, and while he does his thing, I pilfer through the junk drawer in the kitchen to find a scrap sheet of paper and a pen. I’m writing a note to my neighbor, one I’ll leave at her door, and without a name. I don’t want her to know it until I can hear it come from her lips.