Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I lifted my face to the sun, letting the warmth soak into my skin for a minute. The muted sound of music drifted in the air, and I frowned, tilting my head, unsure where it was coming from. It stopped and I shrugged. Dad was probably testing some new speakers around the pool area, although usually you couldn’t hear them this far away. I pulled off the sweater I had wrapped around my waist and rolled it, tucking it behind my head and leaning back against the boulder, breathing in the fresh air deeply and letting the week drift away. I planned to do nothing the rest of the weekend. Hang around my little house, do some laundry, sleep in tomorrow, and hopefully poach dinner off my parents. I was sure they would be grilling something delicious since my dad loved to barbecue. Maybe if I was lucky, he and Maddox would have decided to use the smoker and do some ribs or brisket. I’d luck out with dinner and leftovers.
Another sound met my ears, and I sat up as the music started again—faint, but it was there.
I began to stand, freezing as a big golden retriever came into view. He stopped briefly upon seeing me, then his tail began to wag and he jogged over, his tongue hanging out. He greeted me with a low woof, standing in front of me, waiting.
Unsure, I held out my hand, and he sniffed it then came closer, head-butting me gently. I patted his large head, gazing into his gentle amber eyes.
“Hey, you. Where did you come from?”
I got another low “woof,” his tail wagging furiously.
“Are you lost, boy?” I asked, running my hand over his long back. He was well cared for, his coat shiny, his eyes clear, and it was obvious he was well-fed. He was strong and agile.
But where had he come from?
I ran my hand over his neck, but there was no collar.
A flash of light caught my eye, and I looked toward it. It came from the bluff. Mr. Owens’s place. I looked down at the dog, who was watching me happily, not joining me in my concern for his misplaced whereabouts.
Obviously, someone was at Mr. Owens’s place. Maybe his daughter had shown up. That would explain the music and the dog. I huffed out a breath in irritation. How irresponsible not to keep him on a leash. He had wandered down here, but he could have walked off the bluff or into the water. Someone could have picked him up and taken him. He was a beautiful, friendly dog.
I shook my head. “Let’s go, boy.”
* * *
I made my way across the rocky shore, carefully scrambling over the damp stone and moss-covered areas. I cursed my sandals that slipped at times.
“If I had known you were going to show up, I would have worn sneakers,” I griped to the dog, who followed me, his tail wagging, not at all bothered by the treacherous stretch of beach. He loped and sniffed, returning to my side every few moments. We reached the overgrown path leading up the side of the bluff, and I eyed it speculatively. Had it always been that steep?
I shook my head and began to climb. Twice, I stumbled, once going down hard on my knee. I cursed under my breath and wiped off my jeans, muttering when I discovered a hole in the fabric.
“Dammit, I liked these jeans,” I muttered, but I kept going.
The music was getting louder and clearer. Garth Brooks was belting out one of his catchy tunes, and I could hear the sound of a saw being used. Work was being done on the house, and I wondered if that meant it was going to be for sale or we would have a new neighbor.
As we got to the top of the bluff, the dog raced ahead of me, wagging his tail. I stood for a moment to catch my breath, and he stopped, as if waiting. I cocked my head to the side, studying the large black truck in front of me. It was familiar. My stomach clenched as I moved toward it, recalling why it was familiar.
Intense fire-and-ice eyes came to my mind. Strong arms and a wicked, passionate mouth that was possessive and gentle poked at my memories.
I rounded the back of the truck and stopped, the dog sitting down beside me.
There he was.
Hunter.
He didn’t see me at first. I didn’t interrupt him.
He was too busy dancing. I was too busy staring.
His jeans hugged his ass. His T-shirt was stretched tight across his back and arms. His hair glinted in the sunlight.
And his hips moved. Gyrated. His torso bent and swayed. His arms rose and fell with the beat of the music. He sang, his voice rich and deep, his feet and body keeping perfect rhythm with the song. He spun on his heels and froze. Our eyes locked and held.