Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 190(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 190(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
I needed a bit of liquid courage. Beer isn’t my first choice now, and it wasn’t then. Still, chugging it back while chewing a piece of gum made the taste tolerable. My friends would make fun of me, and I’m glad Amos never figured it out, or he’d really have given me hell. Now that I’m older, I stick to my tried-and-true rum and coke.
The minute Trey made his appearance, I put my plan in action. I stood away from him but within watching distance. He’d glance my way, and I’d give him a flirtatious look of my own, and when he followed me into the woods, I knew the white crop top sans bra, tight black jean shorts, and my long dark hair loose did exactly what I wanted. I close my eyes, tipping my head back on the headrest in the beat-up farm truck and taking a deep breath. Memory lane and I should not be having a walk down past streets we’ve walked many times before. I don’t have time or energy to dredge up old memories. Sometimes I wonder if it’s even a good idea to look at Trey and his stupid handsome self, never mind talking to him. Instead, I’ve been a big fat coward and run the other way anytime he’s nearby.
“What the hell?” I lift my head. Pulling over on the side of the two-lane road is a surefire way to have someone stopping and asking whether or not you’re okay. There isn’t anyone in front of or behind me, though. Nope, there’s a dog walking on the side of the road, looking back and forth. Which can only mean one thing: he or she has been dumped. Tully warned me she’s been seeing a new trend of animals either being dumped on the side of the road or abandoned behind her vet clinic. Today just so happens to be my lucky day.
“Damn it all. I don’t have time for this today, and Amos is going to kick my ass with the menagerie of animals I seem to be collecting.” I put my truck in Park, leave the keys in the ignition, and look for a towel, shirt, or jacket to wrap around the poor dude’s body. Usually, I wouldn’t worry about what I’m wearing and not wanting to get dirty. But today, I’m on my way into town to meet up with a friend. We’ve kept what we’re doing close to the chest, worried that we’re putting money into a project that could potentially backfire. Amos has no idea what I did on the side in college. Only one friend knew what I did during my downtime. Throwing pottery is my passion project, and there’s no way I’ll ever tell my older brother he was right, and I was wrong. No way, no how, not now, and not ever. Amos wanted me out of Arrowleaf. I put my foot down so many times telling him he’s wrong and I didn’t want to leave. It wasn’t until Amos left after helping me load, off-load, and set up my dorm that I broke down and admitted to myself that I made the right decision. Of course, a few weeks later, I questioned every single thing in my life. Luckily, I met my now best friend. We stuck together like glue, and another plus is she only lives the next town over from Arrowleaf.
I grab a blanket that looks like it’s seen better days and slowly climb out of the truck. My midsize SUV stays parked at the ranch unless I’m going somewhere like the grocery store, dinner, or to meet Genevieve for our weekly girls' night out.
“Hey, buddy, what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” I walk slowly toward what I can now tell is a male dog. He lets out a whimper, cowering while also going back on his haunches. It’s clear as day he’s scared, and if I were worried that he’d attack, I’d go back to my truck to call Tully. But since I’m able to edge closer and the only thing he does is start to roll over, I stretch my arm out, allowing him to sniff me before pushing him further.
“That’s it. You can do it,” I keep encouraging him, talking softly, hoping to gain his trust. It’s then I realize he’s a Border Collie who's completely caked in dirt and mud. His ears tuck backwards, and I’m wondering what has his hackles raised when I look over my shoulder.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath. The poor boy scurries backwards. So much for gaining his trust to pick him up and put him in the truck. The whirring of an engine settles in the open air, then one cowboy boot hits the pavement, and I’d know the figure anywhere.